breathe out...............

it comes to a slow screeching halt amongst the ashes of the aforementioned storm, words are not fit, lashed to a failing body, although able, a reckoning of the slow failing of health and wealth as crutches, ease of movement was once a drug worth fighting for, now could easily
be drifting out with the tide, out of the illusion of control, as if there ever was such a grip, luck, more like lust, pacing the planks watching the frost fade into water into the fog coating this last wintry day of 2011, thankful for all that is here and all that is to come and all that has been, the new year can bring promise of new love, new life, new way of living, a shrugging off of the tattered identities that fit so comfortably, but hinder growth, that is all that i could wish for
in this gray lit kitchen on an afternoon full of soft son snores and scratchy throats, a prayer for the living, a prayer for the dying, a beautiful wish...........................

spotlit fingertip..........

an emphasis on drama, maybe to stress the importance, maybe it is important, maybe there is nothing better to do, boredom has won the day and having filled a plate, can be passed around to be enjoyed by all involved, a long awaited for evening must be coming, there is no other explanation, or maybe this is the evening, the ground opens to take back or spew forth, equalizing the score, unequivocal, uninterrupted, unintended, there will be no night..............

a storm from within............

the forefront of forgiveness will be forgotten when time heals the salt in wounds, self infliction, sustained nihlistic impulses, a voice of reason in the wind. whispers of violence, pure but not clean, innocent if not acted upon, and then autumn rose from the listless days with a beautiful fury, the likes of which have not been seen in these parts for some time, the story has yet to be written........

coming up.............

not this thursday, but next thursday, the last thursday as far as thursdays go in october, this will be happening, free beer, come see................

ardea herodias..........

from here to there is a few more feet, an extraction from the head of another onto wood, a commission, a fine time had by all, now back to the grindstone..........

honey badger scrawled on a windshield is not art...........

but i am no expert, and for that matter why would anyone care? the trappings of class unrest are peeking around various corners of the country, and who could really be surprised at their arrival? the time has come for a change, although nobody in the narrow focus of the media has any ideas, therefore the protestant ethic will manifest itself in busy young hands and random acts of destruction, even if the "artists" are unaware of their motivations or maybe they are?...........

return of the dragon.........

the dredging of time, act of god interrupted additionally, stools still in woodgrain dream, delerium, lazy eyes breed uncritical mind, soupy slop on the forefront of every night................