I will invite you to dance

dance

.
.

It’s the last day of November

my morning starts with coffee
like so many others
or so I imagine
I picture an enormous army of people sitting
drinking coffee
trying to wake up

I like early mornings
I like the quiet
I like the light
Things are somehow more easily seen

shift to the right

beat the drum slowly…

The bare truth is
we’ll never have wings

Comfort can be found in the most banal of images.
People find themselves most easily in the mundane.
Perhaps routine and familiarity are the easiest
and sharpest
things in life.
I find some images too compelling to ignore
and find myself in them more complete.
But could go on forever about symbols….

There are few tricks of rhetoric that are truly useful

I won’t convince you of anything.

Shift to the left

play the fife lowly…

If the mission is truly to be understood,
that’s simple enough:
This is me. I like the sound of birds.

I can’t say I give a shit about that.

My mornings start with coffee and my head begins to open.

Comfort can be found in the most regular of things.
Circles, squares, stop signs, bike lane symbols –
People get pissed off if you scribble randomly all over the paper:

cannon miracle, my forefather ate the hummingbird,
while the band played a swing
swung pinnacle. Yellow knives cut just as well as
grey beavers. Leave the rest to me. Go fuck a donkey.
Lalalalalala hahahaha pffffffft
silence. echo. silence.

I heard the lightning.
I felt the truth.
I can taste the moment.
I can see your point.
I smell the injustice.

Shift to the right

play the dead march…

Let’s linger a while on
wide open fields of grain.
I wonder at the horizon.
I always look to the edges.
If I find a field, I wonder where the body is buried.

Let’s linger a while on
the deep dark ocean.
All I can think of is the shore under my feet.

Let’s linger a while on
reading words.
Perhaps it should be eating words.
We eat words, grow from their sustenance,
absorb their qualities, whether we like it or not,
become what they say, what they tell us to be.
We get drunk on words of love,
become sick from words of hate –
or is it the other way around?
Your diet: fate form lust anger

Let’s linger a while and
reread the last line.
I can’t trust your eyes so –
Your diet: fate form lust anger

How is possible to be so wrong about so many things?
Born that way, I guess.
How do we turn a screw?
Arm wrist hand tool?
No –
screw.

How can we be so wrong so much of the time?
It feels good.

How do we tell the truth?
Mind mouth words?
No –
we don’t.

Shift to the left

as you carry me along…

I will invite you to dance.

Perhaps you will take my hands,
perhaps put your arms around me,
perhaps stand at a distance
and shift to the right….
shift to the left….

I will invite you to dance.

For we are born of motion,
in motion we live,
even those of us who cannot move
are moved.

I will invite you to dance.

For I cannot show you anything.

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