Mmhmm

I saw this beautiful sunset today. It made me think of you. I wanted to tell you so you could see it too.

I thought of you. It made me smile.

...

Waning Gibbous

I know it isn't the time. The moon is in a different phase now. But looking outside, I want to see a waxing crescent. Full of simplicity and beauty. The only time it seems that you can see the whole thing as it is. People want full. The brightness has its perks. But to see the moon hover over the earth... as one of its own. Growing, not diminishing. The end is not the beauty, but the possibility of it. And it will. But I want to be there for the journey. That is what I wish to see. Some say wait it out. Others say find something else that amazes. But nothing, since I first saw it in college has ever struck me so. I'll stand with those who wait. And watch. Prepared with whatever is requisite.

Just a Kite

They ask me what I want...
Want for presents now they say
Well I can't think of much except
One thing on such a day

I want something that flies around
And rubs against the cloud
That isn't born there
But borne up inside of heaven's shroud

Where everyone from miles around
Could stop and look and chime
"Paps must out, fly-in about
He does this all the time

It's like his favorite thing to do
Much better than before
He's much too old for what once was
All up inside the floor"

But see the thing is I have thought
Of what a thing it be
That I could take and fly outside
Way up above a tree

It's been with me for years and years
The hope to go so high
I've aimed before my lone to go
Now, no. I'm not sure why

I saw a kite that morning
When I looked out past the fence
That's cute, I thought a child's toy
For times I've gone from hence

They're problematic and erratic
And can't be made to go
High in the sky, no matter why
Or how you tell them so

You've got to wait, conditions fair
And right, the touch of wind
And if you're not tenacious on
Your kite-fly will rescind

And that is not to mention all
The hassle once it's up
You've got to watch it 'oh so close'
No time to fill your cup

Can't let go or tie it up
So soon it can decay
From where it is so high above
And dive into the clay

Yeah, they have their own temper'ment
The wind they fly 'long with
It's not all fun held in the song
Go Fly a Kite's a myth

Then buzzing up above my head
I heard the whir of blades
A man across the park I saw
Remote in hand, donned shades

Now that is cool, I stared upon
And wished that I could steer 
Quad-rotored and auto-controlled
They're better every year!

A sleek and unmanned craft above
Can lift increasing weights
And capture pictures and full views
Of moguls grand estates

And they don't need attention to
E'r' last detail of flight
Their closed loop paths and z-transforms
Make for a stable flight

In fact they even don't require
That someone stay and mind
Just tell them what you want them do
And kick-back, soak, rewind

Stability is what they are
It's what they're meant to do
You aren't there for them you know
They're solely there for you

I gazed, admired and looked on
The man, with heightened itch
I've got to have one and the best
I've just to find out which

But then came crashing to the ground
A kite of some old man
He briskly walked up to the kite
Caressed it with his hand

He looked with care upon the kite
Untangling its strings
And reinforced its spine and edge
And wiped dirt from its wings

"You know a kite's a funny thing
It has a mind its own"
He smiling said, returned to fly
His words pierced with their tone

Himself he walked back with his kite
But he was not alone
I looked back from this man to that one
With the fancy drone

And contrast to my mind became
As stark as day to night
The stag there with his trophy drone
The pop, his simple kite

His kite was not the child's toy
That n'er would play in time
It were a soul, both free and new
Each flight as it would climb

It hadn't flash with gyros fast
Or stabilizing rules
Just wings and edges, nose and tail
Mocked oft by jaundiced fools

Truth, you could not command some thing
And watch to see it do
In fact for it to stay a flight
The flyer must be true

True to the kite and let it fly
And guide the string with care
Not 'gainst the kite but per its flight
To keep it in the air

And chance it comes that wind may cease
And to the ground will crash
But kites, though simple, are robust
Unlike downed drones to trash

Wipe off the dirt, replace a spar
And make a stitch or two
And that old kite will fly as good
As when it once was new

Except the fact that maybe it
Can reach all better height
As flyer learns the kite's trademark
And enigmatic flight

The kite will fly itself a flight
Distinct as its winds blow
The flyer, part, all fascinate'
As anchor down below 

The old man with his kite aloft
I saw there through the age
A simpleton to shaded men
But with his words, a sage

I want myself to have a kite
And not some spiffy drone
I want to watch in awe, uphold
A soul that's not my own

Stale Gone Sour

...yep. All hallows eve... You and I are going to have a talk one of these days. We need to come to an understanding.

So give it room to breathe. Room to live. Room to awaken not again... but all things new.



Ps. Christmas is in a month and jingles bells don't sound so bad after all.

The Longest Pause

I pray it's not a stop. I don't think I could take that. It's weather I haven't seen in all the years since the beginning of time. Four, to be rounded. It's times like this you pray for spring. But spring rarely shows up early just because you want it to. The winter must be waited out. It is cold. It is dark. ...but the truth is that it has it's own beauty. Quiet. Time to think. Time to make tracks and see how amazingly they get covered by white. Like they were never actually there.

 And the bleaker the winter the more welcome the spring. A warm forgotten friend who invites us to open up and learn again to breathe for enjoyment and not just survival. Don't worry. Spring has never failed before. It may be long in waiting. But spring will come...



Won't it...?

Beware the Swimming Rat

Sit down kids and let me tell you a thing or two about being stubborn... because I know a thing or two about it. It's a friend you don't want. Kind of like a caged up animal that always keeps coming back and eats your popcorn just when the movie is getting good. It dissuades you from what you really want. It reminds you only of yourself and yet it will breath your own air if it can. It is the tandem driver who will drive you into sundry shrubbery every time. Why? It feels nothing and fears nothing. It cannot change and it has no desire to do so. It lurks in dark corners and sunbathes in the quad. It will convince you that the world alone is in chaos. And it doesn't smile at the passer-by. It's a dark little rodent, not a massive whale. People just think it's a whale since it has fins. And is impervious to water.

So don't pick it up at your pet store. Its loyal company is a facade. It's viscumin hardened. And it'll get you in the end.

7th Run

Does it show I'm getting better? Or that it matters less? No. That can't be it. Kneeling on the blanket with two cups of tropical pine lets me know that's not the case. It's more than I could have hoped for. And yeah, I didn't have my glasses on. And that was my fault alone. Forget the closed door. It opened eventually. And came out. Slowly. In a skirt. Or otherwise.

To think that time away was something I thought I needed. No. Just a change of heart. Chips and bricks set aside. Just one more chance to dive into the bushes. Just one voice.

You can choose to be lost in the woods... but I haven't chosen that in a while. Not with someone anyway. But there I am. You can't chuck choice too often before it'll chuck you. Like 4 men down a mountain. Not that that was the problem then, but in one man's mind it was.

A distraction? No. Medium fries and a water. Without the fries. A wrench. Segolily. Better than owning everything as a king. What is it like on the inside? Is there fire there? Or darkness too? Regardless the fact is that the cat is running around now. Someone has to want to pick it up. And that'll likely only be an animal lover.

It isn't a well. And Alfred isn't who you're looking for. Something deeper. Something far more profound. He wants you to find that. But not like you're thinking. Not just so that you can go to Harvard and add greek to your name. No. It's homemade lemon meringue  in a box. Not possible? Why? Because you've never seen it? Well. He hasn't either. You can love brussel sprouts if you want.

The only man that passes. And the other learns. With patience and such. A tie? A bond? If not then really no. But if so don't deny it. Fix it. Hunt it down. Into the forest. Find some frogs. Make a fire. Set up camp. And never leave.

You're Thinking, Huh?

What do you do when no one is looking? Well... sometimes I jump fences. Or shovel sidewalks. Or burn cardboard houses. Or walk on stilts. Or dance in my car. Or get hit by a bus. Or shoot a half court shot. Or wait for the newspaper. Or rake leaves. Or throw very small rocks at windows. Or enjoy the sun. Or wish that 11 was closer to 7. Or image ways to paint a bike pink in a tree. Or watch people. Or open my soul. Or cut my toe nails. Or sit and stare. Or wish that maybe October wasn't a month. Or bag a job. Or wait for the year to end. Or buy a cattle ranch. Or fix my hair. Or eat a turkey. Or pet a dog. Or wait until dark. Or sit on a couch. But I almost certainly am not thinking. That doesn't happen.

Morning Has Broken

As I slowly come into cognition the emptiness swells in my gut. Until it fills my whole being.

...It's another day.

Superstition

It used to be a friend you know?...  the thirteenth. Better than any other said I. Well what do you do when your friend runs over you with a bus? I mean, yeah... you probably should have stayed out of the street like your mother said instead of listening to your father. But what do you do? Especially when they then stop and back over you again. Hitting you twice doesn't fix the problem. Even if it is in reverse.    ...touche.

Complaining isn't the point here. Ten days have done that. Friday, I still love you. I'm the only one you know who doesn't buy that crap they sell. You know that. I'm sorry I ate your animal crackers. Please forgive me?... and we'll find a way to the center of the candy corn. Together.

Drop Out

No, it doesn't sell. But possibly because the others know to save their money. And take a ride in the rain. That's why we have windshield wipers. That and for beatings. To music. And such. Because shoes are fine and all, but there's a lot more to check out than the dirt and the rocks. Some really good stuff. Bo Jangles and kind.    Maybe Val is right. We still don't have it. But at least the most of us don't go back to the alternative mints and gumballs on a cupcake. Don't get me wrong, it looked real nice, but the real reason was lost thanks to sideshow and his friends. Oh yeah, we can all go to Patagonia but the thing is some of us are scared of bats. And mice. And violent shakings of the earth.
Yeah, it's a rock to the face. But think about it. Not the multitask, no. The ability to be there. And there.

So don't.

Unfortuitously Different

And incapable of spelling. Inculcate and other such words in french. But you know...? Not half bad. Not even half of half of that. And not due to the fact there's no birds in the bush and no moon in the sky, those things are there and present as a Mack truck on your toes. But it's not the same. They waxed and washed Gina. And it's a change for the poor old girl.

So a good question. And though sometimes I think the answer no, Often it turns that it's yes instead. Not just a buck. Or standing up straight. Or forgetting to slouch. Or pushing... whatever that might be... A change. Small. Simple. And anything but.