Falling In A Stream

“What if we killed somebody in Summer?
Throw them in the Prairie.
If you don’t let things decompose, things won’t grow.”
Not that there’s anything wrong with that of course.

For shelter, man will turn to any cave.
For food, man will turn to anything he can chew.
For love, man will die with Life.

Time is communication.
We speak and think
In riddles of cause and effect.
An hour is a day, to say today.
My life being nothing but your memories.

Does consciousness cancel out experience?
Does choice kill instinct?
What is it that our feelings instruct belief?
How does our belief countermand the instinct?
And how must instinct rule anyway?

These are the questions of the self aware,
The way of the focusing stare,
The self same manufacture of Self,
The wristwatch and the welt.
You feel, you’re felt,
Like lions to the tiger across the Velt.

I guess,
Perhaps I can’t find the patience for Prose.
That’s the way it goes.
Like it so,
Metaphor, simile,
like as with me.
I love my father.
I love Traci.
The mountains and the sea.
And oh boy, their rock slides and hurricanes,
Rumble and blow.
Break your house every time.
But still we want to build up and surf down.
I fucking think it’s fun,
The other and the one.

I like blogs and information fog.
Scripture from recycling bins.
Love in cyberspace.
The love of life.
Yet Life must grow.
So Love must ever learn.
Not to be stern.
You sea.
You subtle darling of the afternoon Rounds,
Circling round us.
What’s the fuss?
Sometimes there’s storm.
Sometimes I use contractions.
Shit this beer is good.

I see my feet.
I know not where to stop
The Laces in my shoes.
Blues.

Outside the Ocean.
The depth in,
Insane insanity rolling sacrifice.
Sound soul life seeing right life, said.
And Desire dinning on the side.