Blossoms rustle in the wind
Crocus bright and thistle blue
Lilac, myrrh and hyacinth
Summer's bow to Autumn's rule.

They wave farewell to memories
Locked inside the season's sun
A sad serenade in the jasmine breeze
The end of all that we'd begun.

Though the noble myrtle strives
To make its stand in breezy shade
Quick are the years that span our lives
Like the winds that pass this glade.

The Summer birds now sweetly sing
Yet Fall clouds fill horizons blue
Harbingers of Winter's sting
And the end of dreams that we once knew.

It is destructive to let an obstacle consume you,
so that it bears its teeth into you,
and imbue its venom into you very being.
Think of it as a transcendent cherry blossum.
It is frivolous to sit and dwell on one blossum,
just because it is lacking in areas such as color, shape and size.
And to spend all your time trying to amend that blossum,
until it is perfected.
It is better to leave the blossum be,
and go on to another,
for perhaps that one is better and more tasteful.
But remember that even if that too is found uneasy,
there are still more blossums to chose from,
and not all will be so horrid.

Underneath my skin, in a corridor of void occupation
I am blindfolded, threaded along the tracks of my mind for yet another time.
Blisslessly awake, and I wanted to disclose to you;

   It's felt like days since I knew you.

Never took you in to be a collection of pages, raveled with things gone unspoken.
I was always so curious of you and the letterings scripted across you
and I'm sorry that at the time, my eyes were so weary
lacking a voice of clarity, to speak to you with the words that you've so deserved.

the pictures in your eyes were something that always sent me to another place entirely,
sailing alongside you, a snowglobe that had passed through to the summers.
You, just as those golden linings in the clouds saw it fit to decorate my memories, your reveries
always evoking me towards a warmth that I held so dearly.

I never noticed that you were thorned, just as I.
And so things went amiss quite fast, just as they came
Hesitating too much to let myself fall forwards, together with you,
sense veiled with all the things that were tethered to my spirit.
Living in between the sobriety of this circumstance and the fingerprints that were left behind.
within the tides

   it had felt like I'd known you.

Swimming, while we dreamt of flying together. To the moon and back.
Later do I remember the horizon, the water below me gleaming, beaming down to the things I thought I'd known.
but by then, all that I had besides me were those obscured stars
and I realised that the sky wasn't all that bright without you,

   and it had been forever since I knew you.

The elapse of time, evading these clocks of mine.
Little porclain angels whispering to me from afar,
without a trace of my voice remaining.
As those pages of yours go on without me,
As the blossums continue to fall for you,
in the distance


And I didn't know,
how someone like me
could ever know
someone like you.

minutes wasted watching new persuasions
souring convincing arguments, rhetorical
contestants pitching sound bites and blurbs…

Earthian watchers sit quiet.
World stage, all accept any role.
All expect daily bread and easy tests.

Thinking if all those actively opposing using
clear common good sense, no bogus science
the use
of exectutive authority locally, we
are using believe as the verb, action
here, at once, we in an agreeform
that makes beliefs facts…

zoom out, take and look, take and use
colloquial subconscientific
impression, Earth whole,
a very costly photo
taken as free,
you see
granted us all under constant instituted
biological functionality and usefulness laws,
ethical stores of mores and lesses held true
where by weights and measures are kept,
sacrosanct things we believe we see
SETI code exemption nodes,
brains born
with Shelly Berman humor
moral insensitivities equivalency cert

"Spinach, right there, on your bicuspid."

Arbitrary decision
possibility never considered,
then we all laughed if off, now look

what are your private default mode cycles
doing while you wonder if this
is a waste of some better mind,
used to be imaginable as ours, we form

information known shown worth,
no time is lost time sought for,
all time is used in reflecting

get it, general value open market,
init
----------------------------------- got a second?

So, reader, there is an off ramp,
about twice the price as getting off
here… but it ends with these lines,
as in these days we do magic in lines
bright or dark, novel times, no denoument, nous
curio uses. … ever as we live and breathe

and think, this is a good thing to do do today.


Watcher, what of the night?
- same most days
All is peace as yet the night
is half a day away, or more,
as all our days are minutes more
each morning earlier
each evening later,
this time of year
cold dark night winds, wet with dew
sweat dried from working class few
who continue duty as background

custodians, ever holding imbedded
motion picture emotional reminders,

Kit Carson, childhood role model--

bind these phylacteries between
figurative eyes literally blinded
by eye service attesting right use

of holy gnosis as old as first known
towb
beauty, seen, even in mind, alone,
beauty is reason enough to go on,
ra'
make more beauty, as peace, felt
sense, scent as from blossums
in Canyon de Chelly

- evoke tears, the scent
- knowledge of beauty
- and adversity, so more alive
- than knowledge of good and evil…

peach blossums, sum of all fears, evoked
memory banks for war stores, whys

Kit Carson, childhood role model--
-- he burned the ancient peaches now
    he has streets named after him reminding

old mourning grieving broken spirits wailing
at the memory
from the blossums
on a breeze
used,
to leave be gone, days unbeknownst
worths
sought to revalue
uses
of all lost time ever sought
lost wills and tested mental umph or oomph,

try and try and try again, if once
you know you have
seen it done, you have
known the value placed once

on a dime, imagined, designed, curiously,
as magic as mythos allows allusions to,
without the mythos
behind the artists logic,
the worth, the weight
of a symbol conveyed,

"Whose image and superscription is this?"

My dime's a magic Rockefeller dime.
Family heirloom
in a local once

1916 Silver Dime
Liberty, the spirit's image
for art's sake, what's that thought
causal agency granted symbolic worth,
free to wonder if it does make sense
when one of my kind,
grows old and unproductive,
a useless thinker, thinking next
common value worth estimation offered
puts it in scale, one nine billionth, times you
adding a step, on from off, but stepping on,
not instep, onstep one,
we in step reformed
a higher perspective, the edge is farther,

the bottom is, too.

Look at us, thinking.

Look at us remembering seeing Earth,

the lifeship storing all life's reasons,
in one system of time and gravity

free, no
fee for knowing, pay me, sahib, I say
fi phi spinning an attempt at peace
foes call impossible, no place
in space and time, for such
a mind as we may imagine
a ****** stupid reason for war,
called for, to confirm certain core

teachings etched into heart tables
during long hours in prayer and fasting,

all nighters coding concepts into precepts.

Morning,
Sunshine,
Sing it Donovan, Ai
my life in Southern California,
easy on so many levels, each step
consciously aware for the first time
in my slightly luckier life than average
I know februarius mensis means
"month of purification,"
- spring cleaning chore install
must have made some social sense,
as lent is said to in High Church Circles.

As the hermit with the mind of Christ,
and the abiding promises as truth's used

to make the peace I abide within, stretched
freely in all directions
from a made up point, once,
my story starts from, daily,
and so on, spanning decades, in leaps,
saccades, laughing good medicine,

good mokus, bon chance, lucidity
preventing stumbling, smooth

operator, tumbling concentration, delving

deep into mind as defined, discerned, sorted

shall we say, mind is the medium in which words
work, we say mind me, and we, polymental poets

perceive our training draining virtues from us,
during precept to perception recogitations, we

receive our self exception, you be you, me, me.

We, be this third mind in the bubble, not mine,
nor thine but ours, and ours alone,

nothing in here but us, boss

ain't nowhere to be found, go look 'round.

We perceive access
to more information indexed
using persistent Y2K hardened information timestamp
metadata cross coded
with GPS and wind mapping,

alrighty, then. Cohere.

The Jim Carrey ringtone, signifying Dadaist style
cost to get it,

probably a joke. Medicine.

Fixative for flakey excrement used to plaster cells
in an Irish prison I saw documented, once.

I----------------------------
in the novel, it is Roosevelt on the dime.

but, not on the ones used to improve
the historical face of John D. Rockefeller,

genuine business school role model,
with entire character development courses,
generating Masters Theses every three minutes,
vertical supply chain lobster stacking driven
one-up-manship, longer vessles wille
zur Machts, navel prognosis,
floating point level like
Bucky on my brain,
reset
Classified conformation confirming faith
con-science, with acknowledged uses now
reasoning inquiry
into the most subtil query old men pose

Why at all, why anything, unless

big reality holds all the others accountible,

what is the meaning of this, is any curio aware

watcher, old and good for nothing, just
filling a role, NPC, looks like a lot of people,

invisible, mostly, after 75.

These we use to keep the peace,
easy gig.

I imagine joy
on a warm February day
is and
is timeless, instances one may say,
should all my days be like this one
as well as being as this was, like no other.

In the little things, you always notice
that you noticed,

but always after, ever, once begun,

its difficult to weigh time in days.

Try this, common internet English, is
a current lingua Franca, however,
there are tricks letters use, coughing like
gh. Ghost double letter effecting F sounds,
ghucking phine clean speech minds, niggardly
"sordidly parsimonious, stingy," 1560s
breadth
of bubble diametrics holders
on certain long
out grown paradigms,
old slide shows
from the potter's house,
revivals of old magic lanterns interpreting
shard recitations from broken vessles offered

for shame, for blame, for being told to believe,

I was born in sin
and shaped in iniquity, and only ever met Voltaire,
in words he said he might not agree with,
while being dead, while he was alive,

he invited me to converse with him, in story,
as any may imagine all are authorized to make up,

as any worker with colors paints impressions
abstracted with a will to make the joy or dread,

bright or dark, novel times, no denoument,
nous
curio uses. … ever as we live and breathe

and think, this is a good thing to do do today.