Tuesday, February 2, 2010

I found myself in the backyard , waiting for the Chinese food to arrive, I am standing under our big tree, there use to be two they cut one to build my cabin n and now its only this one that sits in twilight . its like a painting , the whole thing, Mary is on the roof, she looks at me , so proud, I found my way up here !!!her back ground is orange and blue , a band of clouds fly to the east they look like ships sailing trying to beat the sinking sun, The green forest that stretches forever behind me is only a hedge between neighbors and it hits me , the whole thing , everything that is not me , is what makes me, like a mold , I am all that is not !!! , This old dead yard is my church , it turns green when it rains , it has it own miracles, this small patch, printed on earth is my comic book. I turn the pages , or are they just seconds beating against the void like a drum, the nothing that gives birth to all that there is.

so the breeze that is filled with voices, sings to me, the story , always sweet, the earth after me, lets play cards, sitting here, listening to the ghosts.

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