The incredible displeasure of hands pummeling my body like the angered currents of the sea. like a forgotten shipwreck have I allowed certain dischordant recollections to sink to quiet floor of things seemingly irrelevant.

I am dumb?!.numb?!.bitter!.?stunned!?.
Aging &Alone& Restless.
A Victorian Faint.
I do not make sense.
In a l o n g drift of thought
transferred to trace.
I compare my dribble tracings to others and break a small sweat which quickly passes. Like internal blushing .My thermometer turns on itself so acutely. Outperforming any virtual simulation, one could not hide it.
Adrift I love that word. Letting the gray thick coiled up matter in this head of mine be like sea foam. The dinghy that sets out in the bay is knotted to the dock but there is plenty of slack.
Unlike the others' who's seafaring tethers are like shibari, attachment made into art.
It is like a sand mandala. Sometimes I impulsively blow it.Left to watch the twirling pinwheel colors shine and sparkle which like any simple mammal, does please me.
Differing so from the wind that blows, but one with it still, the back hand heavy slap and soft curvaceous, dammable water.
A swim in the right frame of mind is as thoroughly meditative as holding a new born child pacing and bouncing and singing to the heavens, "It is now!".
For whom does one make such statements?
The night is now truly an oncoming love. Whose gait draw a mixture of anxiety and readiness.
I deny that fact as I do so many others while writing into the magic box then on to my magic hot rain egg. Finally relinquishing to my night crawl over to a soft pillowed corner eeking out a balance of coolness and warmth.
Into the echo chamber of darkness and solitude. A winding staircase of voices and faces many strange and unkind.
A night ninja for a night ninja waiting it out for there own peace, making the air too sharp.
In such a tense moment it is easy to make light or heavy of everything.
I am juggling like this all the while.
Thinking deeply on the superficial.
Worrying about not worrying and so on.

I am starting this up again 9/23/11

It's the season I say,
My season in more ways than one.
From the ancient vedic scripts to the definitive moment today when I stopped
to let myself have this life without regrets.
To live free of regrets is like diving without an oxygen tank.
You realize, oh yeah I may not make it back...
Should I go check out that wild peachy coral maze? Or briskly fly back to my comfort?
Can I find a random air bubble? Perhaps inside a whale or tortoise belch?
Speaking of such age old beauties, the rubbery, flubbery, mother ship whale and
the ancient, jet packed, slow yet steady tortoise
-OR how about those slickery, fierce, one and only Porpoises ahhhhhhh???
Let me tell you,
those haunting eyes hit me, like staring at your mother sobbing.
as if discovered in a magical cove of mythic design
a moment of ordinary oneness.