a perfect cup of coffee
an equally apropos mug
push scents up & swirling
towards an infinite form
of horizon; these lines—we make up:
with eyes, make sense of all;
these angles… perspectives
pulsing… crossing: swing
upon ropes of binding
particles from see
to shining sea
Thick molten snake’s coiling and crossing across the southerly valley; unraveling, thinning, through misted coastalmountain ranges as Luna reaches her silvered sliver higher — still. Night spreads herself blueinkwellblack and traced in filial veins of light—driving.
Not a living camera can capture her images, in justice.
God, I love days of feline fancy. One day without work and school is cancelled on account of a greater plan. My time spent hopping along the border of writing my final and whimsy; swimming lapses from laptop to showers head, stopping the bath to perfume my feet, shaving other places twice is nice. Apple lotion and dressing upon the slow crackling hearth because we can’t afford to clean our ducts and the crisp winter is breathing through our walls more efficiently than the generally dominant streaming days of light shuttered out.
Christmas tree lit because my family crashed across our living room floor, down comforters and body pillows tiding them toward Earths Happiest Place and I haven‘t unplugged (their night lights) nor quenched their fire (both) casting fire light shadows jitter buggin our adobe holiday cave. Using extra q-tips after baking chocolate chip cookies. Making a 5-course breakfast spread lavish for the special guests arranged fresh by revolving pots of coffee and silver-needle tea with wild-flower honey.
Holding all of this moment solid in mind. Forced moment strings of benevolent Nature, perfections of being, informing us through coincidental nurture that the universe is built and spins in our favor, despite our timely, linear, indoctrinated resistances.
Wrenched reminder that a kitty is built to preen and nap while dogs must gnaw and rebury their bones.
I wish we didn’t need a heart to live he speaks…
Because I don’t ever want us to die—he says with sudden tears in his eyes.
How do we die?
i’m not sure… i’m still trying to figure that one out.
Is it because we get sick?
sometimes, or old… i think our thoughts just go somewhere else, is all. like when someone goes and you can’t see them because they are away, but you still know them.
I don’t ever want you to go away…
While I am gone
I will look for a way
To honor time well-spent together.
I will build you a book of why
And, fill it with them
And you. All
Utterly piercing moments will be etched
In panes of glass…