One of my just keep your pen moving blurbs that could almost be a poem
Sept. 9, 2002
If I rearrange the letters I can sculpt new words & how delicious it would be
to take power over my own blue will.
I could create a gorgeous vision, chant chocolate in the only moment that is a cool boil.
And with a tiny stare see past my crushing ache, trudge out of the sad sky & dream no rust.
See I am in the forest wind where the air moans true. See I am on the sand where the ocean lathers often to the sun & it did. I can hear love & fill my needy mind. I can breathe hope & answer the winter scream in the only moment as puppies do.
You who are there in the wind moaning true.
You who are there on the sand breathing hope, words chasing rain, eating fog, whispering candidly ~ speak to me.