Worry stone

worry stone

Evensong. Gravy. I am not in charge. There it goes again. Like a line. There is distance. Ringing. In my one good ear. The sight of you. Making it ok. For now.

Gladness and good times. They are things you don’t believe them when they say.

There are careful words.

If you stay with me. Don’t go out. Sometimes you just know it isn’t right. But you have to listen carefully. I am listening right now. Yes, there is a difference. It is keeping it alive.

Opening. There is no more time. Underline the meaning. It’s ok to wait.

A piece of me. Meatless and green. Overhanging the garden wall. She put them in the right order. Don’t interrupt the rhythm. There is something wrong here.

Look out for the outside. There is inside coming in again.

Don’t forget to breathe. Even words need a break. Spaces are places. It’s not for nothing. But I saw it.

Waiting for it in the greenhouse. Hot tomato.

The river sense flowing torrent mind believing spirit dream. I am now an animal. This is my best side.

Keep it moving. Nothing to be seen here. Move along. It is loose and so are you. Going into the lake with your clothes still on. Taking baths in the sand. There’s a land that I heard of. There are dreams and they’re full of people I don’t know.

When there’s no expectation. Don’t reverse the engine. Lights reminding me of angels. In the dust.

Divesting. Quakes on the side of the mountain. They were all surprised like they were not waiting for it. But they were. It was just forgotten like the time it was your birthday or some other thing.

Spelling words in between the dust and sand and the water flowing underneath. In your veins. In your bones. In the distance sound of ringing in your ears from a week ago.

Dogs are barking in the night.

Getting hungry in the garden. I am understood.

Drawing it with water. That means paper is the soul. It’s the gesture. In the case. Everything is different from the sense you’re making. With your pencil.

This is satisfying to the soul and the feet. I can feel my skin.

Looking at the page. When it fades, it’s for real.


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