Journal # 04.08.15

I was thinking about a friend, today, when thunder gave us a taste of the sky. Frozen water burst upon impact. The fragments bouncing around my feet on the porch. I stood at the threshold. Lightning gave me a sense of the sky. Torrents of rain. God was it sacred! I was thinking about a lost friend of mine. The storm soon passed overhead, and I lay myself down and cried. Softly to sleep with my little black and gold tigers sprawled out on the blanket around me. How come we lose our way with one another? I was not careful was I?

                                                  Look what damage was done. The clouds made magnificent drawn across the sky. The depth. You and me - we sounded so good once! Now we are haunted like a train whistle you hear far away, and you get excited thinking it's coming... but really is passing away.

Oh how we become lost to one another, when we are not careful with each other. I can see us all across the years. I cannot touch you or bring us close. The space between us - vast as the rolling thunder. The aperture getting smaller. The portal closing in. The emotional upheaval still swirling somewhere like a phantom. The hail as hard as rocks, pelting us now. God it hurts. There is nowhere to hide out there. My tears turn blue. Flashes of light spaced further apart in a darkened day. The streets are empty.

                             Would we patch it all together through these flashes of light? Seen and in an instant gone? How does that kinda love survive? Oh look! What damage was done. How we become ghosts, when we are not careful.

a symphony in G-minor (with snails)

She rocked back
trusting the chair
leaning
far back
and far away

deep into forests
where light and shadow
play

spinning yarn
spun forth
through her fingers
spinning time
through her mind

the crescent cut of wood
at the base of her rocker
cut right into tabby cat's
tail

outside god
cast water into stone
hail

electric cat nails
dug into hardwood floors
nine inches
deep down
where termites sleep

the yarn
began to spin
backwards now
wrapping itself around her

she was lost
in thought
trusting the chair

the spirit of her
long gone lover
conducted the scene

the yarn
the rocking
the chair
the cat
the nine inch
nails

and now steamrolling out
on the flat hardwood floors
a band of notorious garden
snails