can't see how solo cups interfaces with baby on the floor but it does...baby is good..talking, 'hey dad' in gaga terms..such a great season of light to be around this one..any child of this age..one on sunday..wooken dogs barking it is their child..well maybe the one here they protect by their presence..to believe in myth and lyric at the same time..granddaughter my ayah..lyric..attains it..let's project her with that power..I'd not felt it but it is there...she goes lightly from my room as though there were no fairies in the world at all but they'd become children as she is, floating within the light of their own spirits, this one a screamer does she not get her way..and tapped to be the singer in the band that is yet to come, because she will control that fierceness with the power of belief because her father will teacher as I have taught him..we did not make the rules, but we know what they are..
a set of phoenics within the relevance of our accepted code..today the music of the holidays begins for next week is tanksgibbin..in turkey talk there will probably be a surfeit of them although I'm possibly inclined to be the one left in the station waiting for the next plane or bus...or whatever gets me home again I'd like to travel freely but my autoexecutor state is taken up by hellos from families of which I am a part and where my heartstring is plucked..bling..hello...some of the mountains I viewed from the plane's window were actually true gold because this is earth and where the story jesus as the son of god originated and when we go to the other parts of our solar system that will be what we know first when we get there..he came to us to let us know he'll be in charge of the entire operation from a far corner where not a feather on any bird will be disturbed..and still my hair is falling out..like woven threads of human gold it sparkles like silver on the brush..and I wonder did I weave it to do this or am I getting old? nah...a corrupt visual basic program no doubt because today is the day we we birth the solar captain..who will go solo ever after as leia is no more..
and the song cycle worked because on the sea the fish is caught in the hands of the master fisherman...what did he say, be fishers of men? yep..he said that...anyway, he always speaks through me like that because I am a theologian of the new age..stood in front of the white house, all that...was at the Moratorium...knew about the origins of Adolph Hitler and the neighbor's dog..all in one..elaborate? how about embroider on the truth and learn the proper stitches to complete the tablecloth of grapevines that must account for the exploding blackberry soda/beer that had too much Yeast..
well, it might be poetry or it might be the cracking longing that is being assauged by my being here with the baby son of my daughter and her husband...that might be it and living in the gallery space that is my studio..as if it were a museum..paintings everywhere...and do I write my artist husband who was at the Corcoran as though the association of an art school was really something to aspire to...well It hought so..and so would a trip to Europe be but how could you do that had you never had a comission although I had a teeny one from the George Meany center for seventy five dollars and now I've got a mean George that snipes me as though he were really a sandpiper and I was on his beach, scaring him up sandfleas and his voiceover was tripped up by the presence of...sigh...there's were the song cycle of the Hopi comes into it..the sand in the wind..fly away...leave that one grain for the bear and the deer and the coyote and the wolf..and let my little sons wear the headdress wherever they are..and dance it out with great joy that we may never feel again this longing for such closeness with a spirit that abides within us and keeps us free in our minds and hearts always..and so we may never know why it is that things happen as they do, for they are retribution for a dark path...
a set of phoenics within the relevance of our accepted code..today the music of the holidays begins for next week is tanksgibbin..in turkey talk there will probably be a surfeit of them although I'm possibly inclined to be the one left in the station waiting for the next plane or bus...or whatever gets me home again I'd like to travel freely but my autoexecutor state is taken up by hellos from families of which I am a part and where my heartstring is plucked..bling..hello...some of the mountains I viewed from the plane's window were actually true gold because this is earth and where the story jesus as the son of god originated and when we go to the other parts of our solar system that will be what we know first when we get there..he came to us to let us know he'll be in charge of the entire operation from a far corner where not a feather on any bird will be disturbed..and still my hair is falling out..like woven threads of human gold it sparkles like silver on the brush..and I wonder did I weave it to do this or am I getting old? nah...a corrupt visual basic program no doubt because today is the day we we birth the solar captain..who will go solo ever after as leia is no more..
and the song cycle worked because on the sea the fish is caught in the hands of the master fisherman...what did he say, be fishers of men? yep..he said that...anyway, he always speaks through me like that because I am a theologian of the new age..stood in front of the white house, all that...was at the Moratorium...knew about the origins of Adolph Hitler and the neighbor's dog..all in one..elaborate? how about embroider on the truth and learn the proper stitches to complete the tablecloth of grapevines that must account for the exploding blackberry soda/beer that had too much Yeast..
well, it might be poetry or it might be the cracking longing that is being assauged by my being here with the baby son of my daughter and her husband...that might be it and living in the gallery space that is my studio..as if it were a museum..paintings everywhere...and do I write my artist husband who was at the Corcoran as though the association of an art school was really something to aspire to...well It hought so..and so would a trip to Europe be but how could you do that had you never had a comission although I had a teeny one from the George Meany center for seventy five dollars and now I've got a mean George that snipes me as though he were really a sandpiper and I was on his beach, scaring him up sandfleas and his voiceover was tripped up by the presence of...sigh...there's were the song cycle of the Hopi comes into it..the sand in the wind..fly away...leave that one grain for the bear and the deer and the coyote and the wolf..and let my little sons wear the headdress wherever they are..and dance it out with great joy that we may never feel again this longing for such closeness with a spirit that abides within us and keeps us free in our minds and hearts always..and so we may never know why it is that things happen as they do, for they are retribution for a dark path...
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