my Heart
pushing and pulling my blood around my Body
my Body
getting me from place to place on Planet Earth
the Earth
hurtling terrifyingly or barely inching through the Universe:

A vessel
in a vessel
in a vessel
in a vessel.

Thus passes the glory of the World...
This is the way the beauty of the Planet Earth transpires,

and fantastically I am a fractional part of it.

beautiful cold lake
soft purple and grey mirror
a boat and a girl

The Sadness is setting in...

I want to say,
how Friendship is reality, and Ultimate,

and how we never really get what we want,

but that we can adapt, in the space of millions of seconds, to changing environments,
and altered circumstances. Evolution is a process that takes a lot of time.

And what I hear
is
spaces of silence with
many thoughts that
remain
concealed

in a mind full of other thoughts, important thoughts, difficult thoughts, wonderful thoughts, clever thoughts, and undeveloped thoughts.

I'd rather be a catalyst for growth, than the stasis which hinders and stifles it.

Paint all my walls white,

let there be only one room, with only one door,

let that door open onto shining summer sun, buzzing insects, shimmering parking lot, well-maintained soccer field,

let kites be in my dreams,

let tomato plants sit in windowsills,
let them grow wildly, unabated,

let there be a bed,
and sleep,

let canvases fill with colour,

let there be walks too early in the morning, and too late at night...

Now,

let not there be nausea,

arguments,

unfulfilling work
nor work unfulfilled

let there be no jealousy,

let there be neither frightening nights alone in empty parking lots
nor
selfish walking back-and-forth,

let there be not timelines,
and deadlines,
and traffic lines
and linear thinking--

No,
erase the lines, and

let atoms and atoms be next to each other, like how they are, anyway,

let me be the same as beautiful white tile bathroom wall with warm shower and tiny, wavy-glass window through which I can see green trees and black telephone lines,

let there be permeation,

let there be love.

I walk home under trees who don't realize
what the season is;
a sunny summer day in November,
buttery clouds on a bright blue sky,
who can blame them,
that some of their leaves are still green?

I want to retire the left hemisphere of my brain,
just as I retire into these sidewalks and
become part of the green green grass and
the black telephone wires overhead.

I want to forget I ever knew language;
I want to unlearn.
I want the full appreciation of being,
and to know without knowing that I am a
being of energy, constantly flowing in and out of
everything around me and everything which comes into contact with
me.

I want to lose the "I".

More to say on this later.

your thoughts explode outwards, becoming the expanse of empty grey prairie before me and i am at the brink. deny me, tell me no in as many languages as you know, but i see you. i see your mind. i see it how no one else can, this you cannot deny, no one has my lens. i possess not the lens of your desire, but of your objectification, your Othering. if i could prove their existence, i might scream at you, how dare you deny my rights to my own voice, how dare you silence me. on the other hand, i scream only into the blankness. fury wasted on that which cannot feel and cannot respond. because god help me, i love, and i love you. i will writhe about under the sickening convergence of sharp red ink on Rilke, my flesh, gouge it with words you don't even understand, how can you talk about language like this, then how can you maim it and allow it to exist, so cruel, you scar its face, just put it out of its misery already... but i keep it, i show it secretly, i love it because i can see underneath its bloody scars and i converse with the beautiful you about its meaning. pathetic tears welling in my eyes, me telling my friends about the things i cannot comprehend-- how can i expect an explanation, they are just as dumbfounded, and on what they think is my behalf they oversimply with, "he's just being a baby" words words words things i cannot understand but THIS is what i cannot understand: that someone could take love, Rilke, and write on you knowing that i am bound to say NOTHING when i want to say, while my eyes are starred with CAPITAL LETTER HANDWRITING and winter drives sleeping snowdrift girls your mother's food red horizon lights and finding blue lines white studio waving through seethrough windows elevators cranberries no consolation prizes, Don't you remember...? mercy, mercy... do i deserve? that word races around my head every day now, and friendship, i do not know it anymore, do i? who would believe me? i am told i put my money in the wrong stocks, it was just a scheme, and now that i have lost everything i will know better for next time. please no... i can see you cradle my face in your hands, and for the first time i really believe that i was deceived. maybe i was just stupid, and mistook what i saw for something else. tell you the truth, it is getting harder and harder to feel... we can run across the world but my questions persist and they will find me no matter my location, my frame of being or state of mind. with a little terror, i can see the cycle of Samsara turning yet again; a girl and a bed, who cares it matters not what colour the eyes or what length the hair, in spite of myself i put up a hand and insist, "please!" on her behalf. this is maybe the only real place where hate may arise-- did not i always tell you yes you try yes you are good-- maybe then this is the only place from which you can break free to achieve Nibbana. but does my Wheel repeat, too? from my point-of-view, of course this does not seem so, different is different and different again, but maybe the only judgment i should trust is yours. after all, we're one Person. maybe this is why i won't call you by your secret name, make you take back all those awful things you said, make you beg my forgiveness, make you recount every untruth and make you make it right; i would be on my knees in front of Us. what's more this is not what i want. i won't get what i want. not from you, anyways, never have. because i think you don't see Us, i think you just see you, and that person this person this that them they relative pronoun demonstrative pronoun pronoun pronoun noun noun noun over there and far away hundreds of thousands of millions of billions of trillions of femtometers between you and everything else. prove me wrong.

colours pour into me.

i feel closer to you, like no one could understand me, momiji, except for you...

but you're leaving me, kouyou, drifting down, whipping past my car windshield, or smiling up at me from the sidewalk. why aren't you mournful? must i despair for both of us?

why else should i get up in the morning and drive drive drive, make quilts, drive drive drive, make cafe au laits, drive drive drive...

Joshu's Dog says mu, autumn leaves play blue from Cannonball and Davis.

fall fall fall

don't go... i love you.

" Solitude and silence teach me to love my brothers for what they are, not for what they say. "

Thomas Merton

'lo, Puck,

that we might take a walk, and you can give me a sip of something that will make me go to sleep,

even to forget,

to sleep to dream,

that I might live forever,

because dreams are what make us immortal.

I cannot believe that dreams end... I don't, except I wake, and who says waking life is the real photograph, and dreams the negatives?

Aren't you a little hopeful, a little afraid, it's the other way around...

Enlighten me, Puck, with something garnered from years of drawing breath. Everyone keeps telling me how much better life is (or "sweeter", if you will), because it ends. I cannot agree for the reason of relativity. I might have agreed at other times, but again not because of relativity.

happy

birthday

clouds.

nimbus birthdaius gauisus