Tuesday, March 09, 2010
And so I again simply separate the coffee grounds from coffee maker.
Days round square meals of insight, inspiration, and beer.
I know the knowledge is less than luck.
I lunch with fate sitting behind me, back to back, our eyes watchful.
The dreams unsettle themselves, and we whisper in the predawn glow.
Stories from the brainstem, from the heart passing blood messages above and below.
The darkness is a drink swallowed and left buried within us.
The day lays flowers before us as stones, marked and self marking.
And what does it mean?
It means you ask such questions.
It means you answer in attempts and flights of folly.
It means we laugh when all else fails.
It means pain and lessons and moresons and fine ways of defining inside and out,
The included and excluded, the food and the excrement,
You, me, other, elsewand.
Let’s mellow with Mars returning direct, and we’ll see if Chuck Woolery can get his mouth fixed.