November 2014

Sonoma Meanderings

Sonoma. Jacuzzi. A day alone. Meandering romanticle. TIme unconstrained. More than enough to start seeing the simple as fascinating. Lonely yet story. Indulgence, bringing to table my ancestral lobe/love of lingering and tasting, getting drunk off works of grape art, inky and of the earth, of the seasons, of man’s mind and nature’s rhythms…If it’s union be ideal, it is perfection, for it is a song to come home. Does that bottle, that is, the energy within that glass holding, does it bring you homeward?-(in the large sense of the word)-Does that song? Does that girl? Is it a whispered breath of salvation? An intimation to the soul’s weary bones? A recollection of sufficiency and safety and glory in imminence?

These Thoughts…

These thoughts are supposed to be enigmatic….that’s poetry…it stirs your depths by words and leaves your logic breathless; releasing you from the mundane, monotonous, linear logic back into the playful, colorful, infinite possibilities. Poetry is a release from words by words.

Thought #10

I’m convinced that the universe is a song and that there is a rhythm to it, and the secret to living the dream is to Center into the flow of that song and make that rhythm the rhythm of your being. Om.

Like Glory

I keep hoping that the next flower tastes like Glory

Nebulae

Nebulae