the story of ways and means

the first part is knowing it's time to write and when (the how comes later) and then letting slowly inside your throat a rising take place a great brewing of images and senses that beg to be unfolded, deflowered, engorged.

once the simmering comes, it's about letting it slide slowly (as if drawn by gravity) up and out of you like submarine crews from the sea: this is about being open enough to let it happen.

we are not all colored like rainbows. we are not all predestined for a solar-system life, but palms spread upward can carve lines where mountains stood.

so with the opening comes the receiving (not the getting there is no getting there is only a reception of a fragment passed, an object floating through the long, black of space and then bending toward you)

and once the line opens it's up to you to catch it as it falls catch it before it falls to the floor and returns to sand and you're only left with "i was trying to get this across, i was trying to..."

2006-04-15 | 9:29 p.m.
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