floret

know me
know me not. for i am
but a single floret you
cannot see when aerial
looking down on me
in this parade of
roses. love me love
me not

#katyamills

you could be compromised

I knew I could be compromised and I am, I am compromised, I would be a fool to think otherwise. My system. My physiology. My psychology. Compromised all the time. I do not mean the kind of arrangement like when I allow my neighbor's pomegranate tree to grow into my yard in return for being allowed to harvest the pomegranates. This is a choice. I am talking about events beyond our control. Solar flares from the sun creating electromagnetic chaos in our atmosphere. Medications which we must take for our medical conditions, which may compromise our systems which have to process them. Our livers have been crossed one too many times, perhaps our kidneys are overtaxed. We are compromised. I cannot just stop breathing the air, yet this morning when I step outside my apartment I can smell and taste the woodsmoke from one of two fires burning multiple thousands of acres just north of where I live. There are thousands of people north of here whose homes and very lives may be altered. We may all be forced into migratory patterns. Compromised. This is why I care.  Because what happens right here, or way over there in a faraway land, may be comparable, systemically, to a solar flare. We all feel it somehow. Maybe not now, maybe later. Do not ever think yourself too exceptional to be compromised, you could be compromised. If you look closely, you may realize - you already are.

The lost of lost weekends (revisited)

Lost of Lost Weekends

My friends, my close friends, my less than close friends, my new friends and old ones, the loved ones, the tough ones, the tests we endure, the balance of days coming together.  Then the sun rises, again, and you find one another, and stand by and cry and try to find the heart, and it comes so natural like a Lexus start, clean and quiet, eyes meet eyes in subtle surprise; the things unsaid, the weight like lead... falling off your shoulders. And now your older, and see it to contextually, in the texture of the connection, see? And the sublimation occurs, two hearts collide, energy synch dream! Friends seldom seen and then it's like a dream again. Seen again. But why so far apart? You fight it, stomping your feet til the dust comes up. The trust come up and recede again, like the lost of lost weekends -- a painful trend

left you wishing and crying for more, feeling the living and dying, feeling right down to your core. It hurts but it means something, too. So be there in spirit, you say it, you mean it! I can lose the colloquilism, touch the vernacular, turn it inside out and make it spectacular. This will work at any distance, like quantum physics, like a system. The charges we send us, like photons the light moves. The energy hits airwaves you catch on your itunes. The paradigm keeps shifting its tectonic plates. The dishes they fall on the floor we explore, find out what we are made of. The texture, the real thing, we thirst and manifest and burst on the scene. Listen and you may hear it. The tear. The salt. The water. So simple, like tide rush cool over your feet in the sand! The way we understand one another, like a sister, like a brother. This is a rush cause its true: your family is those who mean something to you.