January 15, 2012

• story time.

  because there are times when the olive institution green pills get at me as does the lack of internet…ouchage not outtage it’s time for a story…. and a hug.

    hmn, where to go who to do and what the hell is for dinner?…..

   

  I know!

   

  softly fluttering

  clumps not lawn’s carpet dancing

  the wind stirs the grass

   

  there is a carpet of innocence – that is a winter snow.  the memory of mute sky and snowflakes dancing like a innocent confetti before the eyes.  Isolation over a cup of hot cocoa looking out upon it all.  Feeling the warmth cheated from the scene that should otherwise be.  that warth is a hug.  the scene is prairie timeless yet caught in its changes0 be it from a warm truck on a drive hither and yon- or for some sometimes the view out the parlor window.  There is a symbiosis of feeling and thought that is us wholly within a private scene.  us, yeah right me, you, seperately at one withour thoughts expanded to a scene before us – no matter who else happens to be about.  this is the truth of an alone across empty.  this is harvest a dim memory.  this is- yes, just is.

   

  piercing this moment is that warning of another voice that says no matter the words- please beware of how soon the surroundings however large trap us into the smallness of doom ever around.   a stupid thought really- did you enjoy your hot chocolate?  I mean duh, if you didn’t you’d not continue to sip at it subtly smiling.  you know too it’s a subtext that i ask not for the hug around you but that you share with me again a little of your thoughts.  and hey now i feel you slipping gently away in the waves bobbing you the island away to a never seen again.    i wonder if you’ll punish me for breaking rudely into such a moment reverie or just echo the feeling desolation around.

   

  there is seemingly nothing around but alternating freedom andor empty.  the sky glows a hollow grey. life is everywhere rabit visions to a hawk chagrinned at the slimmest of picking now.  the feeling of how dare I be seen here in the winter of circumstance…. it’s a living.  the scraggly wood post fence speaks of a story of trying to hold safe something we know is there or is coming and yet how useless this barbed wire is…you’d swear more of a hassle to you than that of the big ones lumbering about. the rabits unphased, the mice at dis ease over being someone’s dinner squeek! against the unjustness of it all. the children simply brush it asside- this fence- and romp whatever left of the space set aside now violated and trampled.  but now i suppose the fences are too much of a bother to take down.  what’s done is done.  whatever silliness came of it.  the point remains respect this little scene mine knowing so few never do i bet even you want to romp within the pleasure of it- this place set aside but that means hopping the fence and risking the ruination of the image- the pressed clothesready to be torn just enough to show that trampled worn look- whatever it is not put together.

   

  but think yourself to the scene.  join me into a lil moment to worry someone saw us oooooo! such a sin.  what were YOU doing ooooooo I know all about that.  so what shh lets go!  hibatchi on me back.a grocery sack of goods. a tarp, a blanket or two. maybe even a thyermos should I’ve been lucky …okay,maybe two one for hot cocoa and one of tea. one for us you see and one for me.  I too am that kind of greedy.   the silliness. yes the silliness of my offer of a moment stollen from whats about is to set up camp and this dinner shared from whats about. grasing on the sights. grazing on the goodness stolen from winter sleeping. a white death about but some call that innocence.  look around us at the tracks we’ve made

   

  feel the fate blow.  behind a flimsey blanket or three it’s just you and me willing dawn to take a moment longer to arrive.  saying good bye to a moment is a sweet lament.

   

   

  • 10:49 pm
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