2021/6/14 #poetry I don't cut the trees. I wouldn't dare. But they do get cut, and when I happen upon one, freshly sawed, the smells are quite arresting. Some are so intoxicatingly delightful that I must remain, unable to pull away. Deeply affecting, and subsumingly luxurious. No noxious perfume, no contrived mask of fragrances for a room, no bakery concocting its own elevating aroma can compare.
2021/6/12 #poetry The sun. The Sun. I live under the Sun. I spend time in the Sun. I play and laugh and run. It's really kind of fun, but I'm often burned before I'm done. I try my best to shade the rest of my skin that isn't clothed. Even so some rays get through and I end up overexposed. The Sun, the Sun, can't live without the Sun, and I'm certainly not one to say it isn't lovely. The Sun, the Sun, it lights, and warms, and runs the timing of the days and seasons. The Sun, the Sun, no explosive, bomb, or gun can ever compare to its power.
2021/6/11 #poetry Going outside every day is not that easy to do in my current abode. I could easily get out-of-doors but that wouldn't put me in the 'outdoors' so to speak and even so it is still comparatively more difficult than leaving a simple house. My plan is to make it easier for myself somehow. I think that having to change clothes really does increase resistance significantly. I think it has to do with how long it will take from the time I think to take the action of stepping out the door to actually doing it. Any preparations, especially ones that will initially reduce my comfort, are barriers. I won't have a problem tomorrow since I'll be meeting someone at an appointed time. When I'm on a schedule the reverse process happens, instead of counting forward from now to leaving I must count back from leaving to now and that creates a plan and action steps. The benefits of going outside are really amazing. Even for a few minutes. It changes how I think and feel. I think that it is worth the effort, especially here in this apartment above the trees and devoid of internal or external greenery. The few trees that are visible out the windows are certainly a lifeline but don't give the impression of a natural setting. Oh, what a backyard can mean. I used to have one. It was a place to be outside that was easy, almost effortless, to get to. The patio here doesn't quite do it. There's no dirt. Some in a planter doesn't really help. Still nice to go out to the patio, but I couldn't rely on that as a dose of nature.
2021/6/10 #poetry A pocket full of memories. Pages filled with glyphs, angular characters, encoded sounds. Meaning unlocked by years of education, indecipherable otherwise. The meaning isn't encoded in. The meaning is in ideas expressed as encoded patterns of sound represented by drawn shapes they are encoded into. Meaning is imposed upon these shapes, by minds that hold the ideas, during visual inspection.
2021/6/9 #poetry Everything you need, right where you need it. That's the dream. Ice cream, custard, in a cup. How do you know when you've had enough? Like a child who will eat candy until they throw up. I have an infinite stapler. I think that it is a good thing to have. It can't staple as many sheets together but it can go forever. So there. Maybe I should get out more often. It's not easy to pull myself away. Like a bandaid. It's better if I do it fast. I wonder how long it's been since I took out the trash... Slipshod and slapdash. Yesterday I got some cash for a cable, because I was able. Oh, and I had a wonderful time on a table, massaged by two women who are very capable. If I'm frank I think I took a trip to another dimension. Took awhile to get there but then off I went! Took awhile to come back too. Now THAT is something I should do more often.
2021/6/8 #poetry Well, it finally happened. The curtain hanging out the neighbors window, in strips and tattered threads, was brought in. What does it mean? For years the curtain has been trapped outside, the mold stained window closed on it. Rain seeping in to color the bottom of the interior portion through capillary action. Recently, crows have been tearing at it as it flittered in the wind. I would look on and think that in a few years it will have dissolved away; crows, rain, sun, and wind eroding it to the last. Now the stained curtain is still displayed inside the window, and the wall below is colored dark with grime and growth from where the curtain lay, but the sight of a decomposing fabric, the frayed flag flying as a reminder of universal decay, is no longer there. The memento mori gone, the city seems a might less derelict. Did the owner wake up to their squalor? Did they die to have their mess cleaned up by someone else? Perhaps they just had a concerned visitor? Maybe the window needed to be opened to clear out some smoke. I doubt I'll find out.
2021/6/7 #poetry Coordination, quite a complexity. So many pieces, so many points. Considerations, attempts to capture everything. Anything overlooked? Won't know until it's over. How about conflicts? Breakdowns? Changes of circumstance? Is planning even possible? Seems amazing that it ever works. I'll take the chance and spend the effort. What else can I do? Keeping the goal in mind and adjusting as needed to stay moving to the target is the only way. Even giving up or in is a goal, fulfilled one step at a time. One day, perhaps, goalless, planless living can be my way. The skill of thinking only ever of the present point of action is a prerequisite. Working on it.
2021/6/6 #poetry Steps to producing writers block: Write a sentence. Tell yourself it's a bad sentence. Delete the sentence. Write another sentence. Shake your head and think that this sentence is no good. Delete the sentence. Write another sentence. Stare at the sentence. Read the sentence and then grumble in disgust. Delete the sentence. Write the first sentence again. Decide that it still won't work. Delete the sentence. Think that there's nothing for you to write. Think about other things that would be a better use of your time than staring at the screen and waiting. Think about how much easier it is to type words than it is to compose them. Start a sentence. Bemoan that you can't finish the sentence. Give up and go do something else.
2021/6/5 #poetry Inspiration can feel so so very strong. Love expression interest clarity concentration. It means to breathe in, and it is within that it stays centered. It expands, and encompasses from there, within. When it hits as such a powerful wave, becoming lost in it, swept away, is hard to avoid. Who would want to? Avoid a balloon ride, the chance to fly? Be buoyed up above the din of petty concerns over, well, everything else and bask in the shining sun. Say no? Not likely.