Jackspace

Morning rain splinters my head.
Hours of dread.

Rain runs down my face
as tears of disgrace
put me in my place.

But it is well that I feel this. So that I might not make the same error twice. Pay attention!

OK, things are sort of going at a fast clip these days. Summer seems to be here to stay. Madison has emptied out. The trees are full again, birds singing and flower scents wafting in the breeze. This is one of the best parts of riding bike to work every morning is the daily dose of scents and temperatures loosely based on your proximity to one of the four lakes.

Halo and I have been having some rather terrific discussions about things in general. Seems the season has an affect on everyone and it’s so nice to see everyone full of energy these days.

Running up the street here shortly to meet with darling Violet. Hang out for a few, catch up with the day, and share a few nice moments. Sounds like she got some sun today.

I wonder if I can get a job where I can either have a sunroof or retractable ceiling?

“I just dropped in to see what condition my condition was in.”

Sal in NYC sent me a song he converted to MP3. He created it on his synthesizers.

Oh, one day you will arise,
reach into that bureau drawer, feeling around,
sleep still in your eyes. You’ll feel that plastic brush against your hand,
heart starts pumping just a little faster. You’ll grab the bag, and in one swift motion pick up the lighter and pipe nearby, and put everything next to you on the covers (you’re still sitting in bed).

Gaze down into the bag and pull out a crystal-laden bud, about the size of your hand. You pull off a little chunk and since it has never had a seed in it, you pack the nugget into the bowl. You raise the bowl to your lips, and with your free hand pick up the lighter. The two sort of junction at your mouth where a ‘flick’ sounds and suddenly there is light, you inhale short but fast tokes, and the nugget begins to glow while a milky-white resinous smoke is pulled down from it.

That first taste hits you like a train. Your eyes are beginning to redden. Psychosomatic responses give way soon enough to the real McCoy. Ah-Yeah, here it comes now.
Rolling down your throat,
your lungs,
fast into your bloodstream.

Gravity increases.
The world softens.
You keep toking . . .
the birds actually do have rhythmn . . .

toke toke toke . . .

Fall down into the grass forest amodst the brown undertones and bright green shades of ultraviolet. Down here things are big. You see that from the way the sun glints off each cell. Here natural patterns are revealed.

Reflect back now. Gaze back through the years, the weeks, the hours. Those moments in between. The eternal instant. Stop. Go. Be.