'might as well' or 'why wait'

dieing to tell me?

well why can't you make it? I need for you to beat this out.
I need for you to make this work while its winter.
You can't live there longer than he can.
and i'm out of complexity. one subject and then a verb.
am I to begin stealing for you? mementos and tidbits of time filtered through the most current audio in jack mounted to my right. So I spark with every breath in. new concepts approaching in the approach. holding a mirror up with feeble weak armed gestures. I'm not asking for much, but I should. slurred, dull eyed and anemicly ambient.

all at the same time. rise to know more than you thought you could. you have the stretch with in reach. more minutes than miles, jerk from your stop. trust in that which fuels you deeply. hit the crescendo with momentum, follow through. boil it down to one. Tap my tears streaming with level 4 rapids. Keep current the electrical force from my well paced socks. I love

Evan in New York

He stood there with jaw on concrete, amazed by what man has been able to accomplish. neck craned as if he might see the top or crisply see the point where they stopped. No such luck. the crowds brushed by pushed on by the tradition of being rushed. destinations would not be reached today. all time would stop today, and that was exactly why Evan was here. He looked for the lockers he heard of down below but it must have only been created out of convenience. How else could an untrained prophet explain the darkness that lived, oozed, eminated from this place.

Evan took the string of glass beeds from his Grandmothers collection out of his pocket. His awe, combined with the bustle, got the best of him. The beeds were nocked from his hand. they hit the floor with a clatter that only Evan found ear shattering. Having broken free they scattered, not unlike a billiard trick shot. Every sphere found a pocket secret or otherwise. Evan was unsure of how he would find the high place. Just as his heart hit bottom he felt the light hand of hope lifting him from the frantic search to reclaim even one of the beeds.

Once again he was standing but this time his eyes were focused staight ahead. the glint of his path glowing brighter in front of him.

"premi" or "oh so small cute"

weary but well
as has been at every request
subtle distraction...the door gently shuts with click and tap
I project to far so I get blinding nowness,
(I greet my crooked red friend)
funny freedom
I am bound, as I desire, but where is what the weighs the wonder.
hits at this helium heart.
shifted but always advancing upward.

punctuation punctuation

to write and re-write
about the good fight

and will she even see this mental neon
click-ity-clack click-ity-clack
breaking my back to stay still
breaking my will to stay filled

release the mosquito stew.
or brew it up into tea.
we need a physics brand accelerator
to steady and all ready, trying to translate

הלב שלי שמח לראות אותך

plans to take the hills
yet none to get out the door?
neon flickers failure
and faster
Call my Master
save me
my clouds need clearing
felling a fantasy forest
pruning prudent and practical.

scrap composting to soak soil with new life
Yes scorch this earth to regrow with Your newness!
petty is pretty (oh so very pretty) yet more beauty is promised.
Not that I seek the reward for myself, but I wish to qualify and point others in His way.

'lessthan three' or 'more than me'

is it wisdom or cowardice?
this "plastic on key" approach.
arms length deliberation, deliberate in end prevention.
black and white squares shelved in favor of blue prints
keeping yellow cautiously caged, lest fingers paint sans focus
blurring a trip wire.

rethink.. regard. (Unsurety
said squares are untrue. pit stops and road trips
typical yet my mark or The mark,,,
unsettled!
drawn with ink expired pen. all lines understated on paper.
only pulp depressed and starved for contrast.)

rethink.. regard.
reinforces the question in order of its asking
is it wisdom or cowardice?

Lars oh Lars your pink sweater inspires!

center in boom
every influence edging out the next
brush beats chisel in every epic
resist the rep and fall to its exact intention
jousting this pedestal in an empty arena, I opt out
journey only just outside the door of my heart
callous caught by brush in the way the chisel fails
meager membrane of former brick class cell wall
I keep seeking sense when I should cease and surrender

a plod

energized by the color of the sky, he takes note of the atmospheric changes. the rain begins to lightly tap out the chaotic rhythum of a jazz drummer upon the leaves. Natures strobe begins its slow increase to eleven and peace slinks into the corner of his mind...as if the storm outside needs to be balanced by his mindset.
the jazz amps up as the wind alters the tambour and tempo. sleep delayed, though not by fear. Fear is not found in him easily. No, he is sprung on by sorrow, the stench of stagnation. the build up, like plaque, causing corrosion of inspiration and inspirative moments. no...sessions! over whelming voices of lateness seek their well worn footing.

Finally FINally they slip as if on oil. timing is, for the most part, beyond us. He'll plod for some time, but plodding prescribed is perfection pending