walked and edger.

theres that fine line again. reared your sexual sense and let me know a little too much. you were gone and still are. figured eights, close but god damn so far away.  just a funny notion of being and amongst. call it casual, knocking on big nerves glassless window. the pain a sill, deep of shards and left for slivers. who's gonna help you out, tweazer, razors, and all the other "z" words that resemble and sway with word play. "dance me to the end of love" edginess enjoyed. life encompassed as the equator. heat sensitive and double duty, free yourself from those lost and lately days. shared high fives just cause any confusion is unnecessary, one world right now. gary snider started writing about mountain missions.. getting there.

you are your own binge.

fully charged, suited up with wheels turnin as to where, go on as gone. the most simple form is spontaneity. nestled comes from nest, stagnant as ever for me here and now. i must move in order to keep alive. im missing an entire direction, west is too wet to roll, and theres still roads that need turned on and ridden down. offered, always offer and solo is almost always better. one world. unless linked up with like minded. to tell you of whats out there and give up spots would ruin the key of spontaneity. the topic as subject. deflected then dialed. no gods no master. you are your own binge. fall in line with the rest and resemble a deflated being amongst the other waifs.

time to buy another map. moonlight at midnight and in the delta, turning anew.

iron and ore.

incredible complexities disuguised and as feral as that constant chronica-logical disorder. lights out. soulfully simplistic. ill fly its ease, fairly decent.  cameras capture it all.  wanted to say wanted to strum. years back i said with ease "just one sunset" and walked away from everything i owned towards some beach. a deserted island fit for falling. my own private idaho

the horn in the intro to the temptations, papa was a rolling stone.

echo on perfect, hey mama… some insight sold and still for sail. set out upon footsteps.

shuttered and should

Suppose vs should

A recent crested moon arose. A dance around legitimacy, tarnished? no and never. A ritualistic exposition vs another meandering way of life. Determined and blinded, following the right. A heart beat skipped but back on track towards that map, still gone,  still thrown out the window.

Deflated a should vs suppose. Time slipped straight thru my fumbling thin fingers and rightly passed me by. Like a mad dash of 70s mercury going down some scummy bathroom drain after a broken thermometer shattered and left the poison debris up to gravity. Decided right then and never id always give it my all. as if it were really an option. Purposefully and uncommitted to a lonesome crowded mind field. A deliberate disguise to cloak the masks worn by all. I wanted revenge. Full blown murderous revenge. But then I think of Ashely Williams and how I've given up on wishing her the worst. That woman nearly killed me for a text message. With her car and in her car. This isnt about her though. It's about the one that pieced together her young heart, hand over fist handed it to me, nourished it needingly and promptly decided to simply quit watering my soul. I fell victim to a girl I thought I felt a woman. There were still issues and I never even knew her hand writing. An everlasting impossible participation. Los Angeles looks small from way up here. I'm leaving again and it is just that, small. A general misfortune for possible personalities. I could open my mind but... What fun would that be.  I've had good times but soaked in blood, some sweat but never a tear. Common ground is with those closer and I need to thin that circle. With age it's grown perfectly. Adjusted a few trends and I'm out while she wants in. I understand and I support. My best friend a person I can't connect with. Left for the dogs, our relationship, and it will never be the same. It's how it works. So I call to it, this message, a letter perhaps. I find it, black fingernails and all you're still bit a nervous cure to an unborn disease. I thought you an elder. I thought you as in forever. But alas, another world has opened up and full advantage is being taken and I'm the one, left and leaving.

nov 2013

mushrooms.

Unleashed and There's magic inside. I saw the depths of the galaxy tonight as I laid in the middle of this far away and forgotten fire road. The trees danced a little sway while the earth kept her steady turn. I watched o'ryans belt come overhead and kept a steady eye.  I found another secret on my sleeve and made a wish upon a defunct star. There's magic in these hills and you're not too very far. The fires burning out, the last walking stick has gone back to this very air. The embers creaking loudly

words went up in smoke as written to the beat of this dying fire. 30 miles west of lake tahoe in february. with sacto steve and moose. they're asleep and I'm on mushrooms in the woods. dirt bikes and recently in touch with simone after 12 years of radio silence. feb 1st 2014

deafened, pulled, deflated.

Set ablaze the last of the wood. To break down and toss in the stick in which I leaned on for so long. So long. The flames dance along the side where I once kept my hand. For balance and the sun is so far from coming up. It's the last minute of today. A day in which has been one hell of a ride. You're not here to watch the fire burn out with me. I'm learning to live a life with out you. I still get choked up with the thought of you.

Creaked. You should have seen the tree. Set ablaze and provided first balance then warmth. To end the day with this and with out... Just more miles to keep running. Stories for someone living another life unbeknownst. I'm out here and words could never describe what were doing.

written nov of 2013.

go on as gone. flying high. you know how i feel.

Remembered. Decembered. I forgot it all and left to leave. The time up was without and there never seemed a better escape. Echoes bounced off walls, echoed. Two scared eighth graders. The drive behind is still there and as incomplete as the road you know, it never ends like a sleepless night married to two sunsets.  Benched the sun and watched words form. A slow ease into some salt formed pace. Held on intently, tightly, and discovered. Conversations that never took place hung like that proverbial carrot. Shared space not dejected, always invited. Action awaits. Walked in synch, talked in synch, walked in synch. Reread everything, scanned for viruses, and late for work. The alarm never sounded, just some birds outside of my window, listening to me wake up. So many questions and how ya doin? Yea? I'm on to you. From up here, beyond the land lies asleep. What was that smirk after all?

bill withers. who is he? oakland, calif.