This is a word pie

What a gorge in between these meetings,
the reality, the listenings, the sharing.
An ambient sense of laughter but only
sometimes when it rises through my lungs
to venture out into ether. Show me what
is capable. Stop me guessing.


Maybe ravine, blackened rocks to cook
on. Charcoal sticks write on picnic
tables. We was here. Before. Some
dream space created to show me something.
Not that thing, something different. If
I could wave long streamers in the air
I'd lose it. Dance the dream. Will
it get the point across or will I spell
it wrong? Maybe there is already a brick
laid down in mud, but it's shifting due
to extreme weather patterns. Winds shifting
west not east, bring sunshine to me. Move
my window fan. Someone's talking in the
other room. Muffled, I can't hear the words
but maybe it's a poem. Music is overlapping
it. It's mostly like this.

When I come across an event I know
someone else would enjoy I note it.
If there's a basis for friendship I
let them know. So the fake or unsure
stops me from sharing, meetings, listenings.
Almost a hurricane of shifting winds. Yeah
I've used this metaphor before. The same
contents, though. I am not an owl so
perspective/view changes all too often.
The eye, that's me for this point, I don't
change. Often I stay detached. I'll keep
a cool head about things. Rarely do I
say fuck this shit..cause it's not shit.
We are real people down here, huh! Wow.


I never told the story of being cheated
and beaten down. If you saw me then
you could probably tilt your head
and squint a little like dogs do to see
it in there. Squirming around my body.
Making little worm paths in the sand.
It is refreshing to know that is gone
now. Replaced almost, but not with the
same deal. What is there now is at least
real beauty of vision. I mean, maybe I
complain occasionally but it's great, man,
the best. Accessibility is the problem
but it doesn't have to be. There is
no sin in speaking. It comes back
to music, when a song is on that I
don't like I can skip it, but I don't
always do that. It takes a song that
grabs me and pinches hard to mobilize
the veto. It could even be a band
I enjoy, like REM. Don't go back to
Rockville is a song I skip. See, then
Regina Spektor comes on. Fidelity is
the song. I had hoped for that.

I don't hate, I'm no hater. I never
know what would happen to see them,
the two in the cottage who still
use my old curtains. But since my
face is pale and overheated maybe I'd
run away. It's just honesty or a
reaction. Sled riding down that slope
saved me more aggravated years. That's
the thing about love. The saying, "if
it ain't broke don't fix it." I have
no idea what that means.


After reacting I'd think about
a thank you plan. Really. It was
in everyone's best interest. Chosing.
It's chosen. I chose which level
to integrate. Which set of rules to
follow now because of what i've seen
before. That's the real pickle. Are
we emotional/mental/physical/etheric/
genetic/inherited people? All together
now. And which ones are we living and
creating on? Which point of view wins?
What gets cast out? It's life work.
Integration after cleansing. I'm
striving for that. We all are. To
love everyone in an open way having
respect for all the choices made.
But it's too big a concept to get
good at. Especially in a word pie.


What's a pie without a little sugar
on the crust? My hurricane shifted
after that last . Shake it up,
sit back, tear drop stew, tummy ache
laugh session, can't breathe, listen
louder, want, ache, desire, pretend,
sleep, nod off, just rest the eyes,
understand that this will continue
for seasons, detatch. repeat.