where he cannot carry his whole sphere or circle
with him, not bodily, but atmospherically.
I ate fresh wild
with my fingers
for the first time.
Raking moss in the dingy, a large bodied
spider
came up my leg
to stay dry.
I tested my sunglasses
with a crowbar
on a ladder,
prying burnt wood away.
Somewhere in the valley
cars VROOM and ZOOM around a track
so we, hear in the garden
engines rev.
A train rumbles by
on the other side, east
just shy of the foothills, blue mountain
railroad.
All I can say w/ this place is RESONANCE
it\’s the sound bound
of a GONG
…or the dinner bell.
These times & transits – in a space between –
give the sense, where I can see,
I am living
prophecy.
Rusty blackbirds rustle in the bamboo.
One is dead, the rainbow glistening
off the sheen of it\’s
blue black feathers.
it\’s been a glorious day,
despite consistent cloud cover
full of the promise:
Activities of completion
harvest day, csa!
transition winter to spring
and green re-emerges
i float on a sea of it
drawing plant portraits – a
come union rite
stop, for in silence it is heard
mullein _ i feel i have, developed w/in me, this
natural ease
being connected, assimilating the
gesture of a plant
we become one
through inaction, let it be
conversing w/ a wise man
i sense what he is handing me
pieces of conundrum,
big one. i honor his messages
time for peace
walk, in meditation
over sacred spaces
i tread through fields
along the wide mowed path
and divulge into forests.
This time traveling deja vu
washes over me, here
surges, spirals, multiplies and it\’s nonsense – all
Nonsense, but true.
anyway – this peace…
i can feel it in my fingers
flowing through
currentsmy blood dances along
in its wake
energy, buzzing pulse, natural euphoria
like when i float upmy body sings
when i can feel these things
i\’m growing wings
to fly!
Space Case 
That blackbird that was found dead in the bamboo thicket- we identified it as a Rusty Blackbird.
LikeLike