Believe the monkey with the gun is not real reason to run.

Stand your ground,
and turn around, and cast a long shadow, as the sun goes down,

the life worth living lay still in the shade coming the other way,
as these rocks I live on glow a certain Baja rosy hue, impressive,
the way
peace remains, on rocks you return to often.

Choosing between long or short for the finale in the thousand
Dime Poems and Novel Mind Tuning Forks I have left here,
at this place in cyberspace where gifted witnesses of life,
appear to soar,
like eagles gathering to feast, while each leave a carcass,
some where, for late comers,
near the end. F' Art, art made by… I cannot imagine what,
could wish it otherwise, joy, empty or full, pulling in, or spewing
or spilling, all along the brim of our shared existance,

in these most interesting times, when no day is long enough,
and sleep is welcome, any time.

How do you come to accept
What you thought was the sun
Was really just a distant flame?
The warmth you felt
The light you saw
Wasn't real
Had you even felt warmth to begin with?
Seen light to come to such a conclusion?

I'd always used to prance in that light
Waltz and lay in its warmth
But when I realised it wasn't what I wanted
It wouldn't satisfy me like it used to

What is it like to stand in the sun's rays?
Have it pierce the deepest core of your heart?
Would the world around you need to change?
Or would you need to be out of it...

Floating, sinking
Reaching, receding
Closing my eyes
Wishing for
The warmth of the Sun
To reach the depths of my heart and
Emit a glow from within