this morning i feel... dim. Sort of here, but sort of not, and certainly, most certainly, confused beyond any and all description. But that's okay. Life without it would be, well, too easy, perhaps.

I just don't want a re-run of Black Summer. And, oh, she looks to be an interesting one, if it's this fucked and it's only April.

Alas, i just wrote a poem, so here goes! Not one of my best, but just a little rambling lament that seemed appropriate for this hung-over, windy Sunday morning. Be safe and stay smiling, reader, and enjoy this last day of your weekend.

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as it stands

4/3/05

we’re all living with those borrowed minds
in the shadow of stolen lives
with a courage endless the winding road round the world
red thread against the blue heart –
if only we’d throw open our colored shuttereyes
and spy its light!
feel it land on our skins and wash us
like the springtime sun
realizing that if the well were poisoned
its water tainted and tinted
from crystalline clarity to a
dyed hue of confusion
that what draws from the earth
is
always
water
and that
like the courageous highway
never ends