snow nearly covered

weber’s silver legs,

the grill cover

is topped

with a snow hat.

waking up at 7 seeing the sun at 9

riding buses in the the early morning

overhead lighting indistinct humming

snow melting for weeks

i talk now quite a bit, there seems to be listening.  there is snow, and sweaters and time to read coming up.  

2 

sososweet

i learned tired
and pushing through
more me

of fingers touching
embracing
all the l’s
until
there is no doubt
between
2 people

who what?make a page
look
soso
sweet

——-

onesy memory

i too stopped briefly by
a snowy wooded lot walking
this evening

the whole scene
lit up like a diarama
and frozen

for sometime i could tell
the ice was thin
but crispy with

freezer burn.
i realized this evening
in the snow

that i was wrong
to you
and have been wrong

with the world
swinging my fists at
beautiful peaceful

scenes in the snowy forest
constructed from memory
out of cardboard, glitter

and glue.

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dark deep and lovely

i was young, then spring then summer, then i was young again.

i was young, then spring then summer, then i was young again.

i feel summer slowly moving out the back door as i watch the sunset on the porch while i seeps the last pbr bought with the last of the change from summer work.  i loved you summer so much, you make me mad for more life, and more swimming and more hiking, and jumping and running and bicycle riding, and sunburns.  and maybe this marks something important, i can never tell most things important until i ease down the road a bit and glance back… i just love you long summer days.

resurrection mary was not seen near or in the firetower… sorry to report

  • July 18, 2011, 9:08pm

          1 note

resisting the urge to continue walking into the forest and forget.  i turned around after an afternoon of crawling and scrambling and frolicking with a lover and another friend up and down rock formations at the top of a peak somewhere high up in the montana sky… trying to remember me, the myself person of i and ego and partly id i suppose is this repetitive act of reconsidering all the notions to which i cling.  i know these things for sure:  i am a flawed piece of doodoo, i try to keep this in mind every second of the day before waves of defensive arrogance batter my fragile self; the search for self has been futile, its much easier to fill the cup with stuff around me than to search for the thing given no details;  i love adventure, and will probably wander endlessly until my lungs and or legs give me no more steps.