Tuesday, June 7, 2011

The Trees Watching You

Sleeping in is the incarnation of what spiritual principle? The rooster's cry appeared to come from the west which was what finally woke me up. I am the law of attraction who meant to say manifestation. Destiny of any kind sucks.

Yet I began to see a certain wisdom in Corinthians, at least the early chapters. At this time of year, nobody likes a crow. I dreamed I ate wild blueberries alongside bears. Old friends walked up and down crowded stairwells, screwing their courage to goodbye.

A light rain began to fall. A chickadee stopped near the fire pit, a strand of horse hair dangling from its beak. Yesterday's prayer was interrupted by squirrels. First coffee, then we'll talk.

Friends divorcing and selling the sheep farm. We put on our gloves and worked quietly on the roof, stopping every hour or so for a drink of warm water. My daughter left a book out over night and a thunderstorm drenched it. I see a cross-shaped downtown in what I believe is Denver - or some city of high elevation - and am convinced I will meet Jesus there. Love is the answer.

I give thanks for all your commas. Harley Davidson mirror shades, a black leather vest with nothing on underneath, arguing with your hands - I almost steered into the trees watching you. Sometimes you don't want the sentences to end. A little light, some dice and a tickly feeling back of the throat.

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