WE BROKE BREAD

Inside,


When



I am

Far from

Your face



It glows,



A catacomb



Of lights

Always clear

With Love



In Sight.

YOGA CRIP

Two hands



In the sand, man

Breathe out empty

Downward facing Rand

With all your benefits



reach.



A Lover wants to heal a

Healer left to save, to mend

This breach between what here

Spread eagles and the seagulls crave and



preach.

Sim Sum

Sim Sum

for the next one


Would you help me to find

one deep breath?

I'm creating someone to do everything for me, pretty much the way I'd be doing it myself, you know what I mean.

When you understand I will know it by watching you noticing everyone's perfect hands, the safety of their cuticles.

You're blowing your nose right after the most stirring part of Sundays sermon hoping no one will notice how skillfully you have chosen to rotate your printed thumb inside the nostril so as to utterly clear the cavern of any unnecessary debris... while genuinely considering what it might have been like for Peter to be addressed by Paul like some jamoke' from the wrong side of the neighborhood.

You're picking the spinach out when they turn away.

The untrained attendant-me will have everything in hand.

The cane pole on the old dock ready for Bluegill to bang... now!  set the hook... oh, we lost him.

The axe you squeeze on impact so your hands don't buzz right off, especially at 5 AM, gloves off, frost holding its own around the elephants leg of a Beech tree, don't get distracted, man.

I knew a guy once who had a chunk of chipped off Cherry, stuck him right in the eye, I'm not kidding.

More soap, right from the start.  Why not?  Taped edges flush with the wood trim before you paint, otherwise... well I don't need to tell you.

That much cream because it's afternoon and I guess I never realized.  You want a cup of coffee?

The newbie will know how much

Salt and sun screen and what to do with the dust cloth and whatever it was I was never aware of until I was aware at least as much as one can

be while still being blown into the fray, not God, no still not.

Jewish mystics envisioned a loving being who inhaled

in order to exhale the world into existence, again and again.

Hearing My Neighbors Gun Practice

Outside

in the sun

I awoke

startled

at how

bright yellow finch

are able to

scatter so freely.

[true story: After speaking the words "gun practice" into my computer it translated "God practice"... Discuss.]

Other

We think

It would be best

If you would

Simply

Be your self

By your self.

Saturday Morning

2:25 PM

I cannot possibly

get by if

I cry each

time bluebirds fly

away.  Still, I

will look for

them.  I will

love each one.