And it wants so badly to go on. The evidence is everywhere.Spring bursts forth.The walking man looks for evidence of life.The grasses push up below the branches that pop with new leaves and flowers.The bugs and birds awaken.The stars rotate around a point in the sky.The moon tucks away as the sun pushes all the …
And I have a strange optimism when I read my own words. And when I see my own flowers pop up from the soil. And when I capture a world with eyelids closed and white noise and a distant humming sound puncturing the peace.
Books and books of sprouted thoughts, screenplay starts, sketches turned paintings . . . Does anyone think it’s real? Certainly not me. I can smell the pages burning. Letters to a far off wizard. Someone who knows me better than the self. Someone under the dying. And the dying is a recreation for some. As …
As if to couple,it would be my job to overwhelm you with a washing worship of sorts.Not a job as in work but a job as in attentive service – a commitment to doing something ever so small well.An effort to understand everything wanted by your body.A tumbling over you in play and sensation exchange.And …
There’s a smell of last night’s fire in the room. A skin forms on the top of hot coffee, and it flexes with twitching geometric lines as breath changes the pressure of this small space. Man and the coffee skin are coupled. The action of lungs becomes the action of the shifting lines in the …
