thread

sunday lays me out sprawled in my great red throne- everyone should have a throne in their own home: a place safe for rambling thought and dribble dribble of the gibberish between the sense, the little madness, the quiet breeze across your face that touches you through your dream-time nap and calls you to cry out in joy head leaned back and sighing slow and perfect sighs (room temperature: majestic) and perfect for just one hour, then more.
restful, i fell into that careful but wonderful sleep that happens on only the finest afternoons and woke (on the innerside of my dream-lids) and looked up to see a woman there casting a shadow that had lines so perfect as to draw tears to the eyes of any adonis out there and so i (feeling more than just a little kerouac) whispered to her "hey now, aren't you just the finest thing that ever happened to an old key-tapper like me..." and slid back into the sleep from which i could wake- feeling the long thread that draws the lines from her to me and me to the next great gray fellow with blonder hair than i and the sad sucker in the bar-corner and him to the lonely lady in the apartment across the way from mine and smiled---
wonder-world and it's charms so often break my brow and this is one was one will always be one of those ways days tidy little details about this cold cute world that i have fallen so far so far into love with a little truth laid out here for you a few drops of wonder and awe into your cereal bowl and then onwards i like all the others up and out and away so fine was this life through all it's slow days and long days and hard days and wet days and all the other ways i can mean the things i mean (however they float outwards....
waking (or sleeping if your crazy-thought happy), i sat thinking how fine this jazzy little life is and sent a little love her way in the only way a madcap like me can...outwards, in every direction, forever.

2005-03-28 | 7:49 p.m.
0 comments so far