recurrent nightmares

[still.trucking]

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every time that dream comes round
bound to cover a little new ground

bring it on

[still.trucking]

Design
writing design
I heard what I said
I call my bluff
Huff and puff
Breathing a chore
walking a pain
night closes in

I take a deep breath and hold it
and let it go
Breath in
such a trip
the most fun I have on two wheels

Over the edge
My edge
not yours
my dark sea
my lonesome valley
my fears

I will not fear to close my eyes and try to sleep
with or with out this mortal coil

If I can't sleep
I need to be awake

and If I can sleep
I need my dreams
good or bad
the ones I repress
I will dream again.

I have driven miles in my sleep
my worst truckers nightmare
the dream about driving a truck

I don't have PTSD
just a contact high.
a believer who has not seen
yet believes

the battle of breath
of life and death
the struggle
the clinging too
one more inhale exhale
practice not breathing
a new way to go
lighten up
I don't want a fork lift
pall bearers please
just six skinny ass poets and musicians
to haul my ass away

push comes to shove
life to death
free will to consciousness
gravity to ground beef control
Houston we have a problem
asphyxiation

let the good times roll
again

[the mingo]

Let 'em live wild and free. That's what my coffee cup says all the way to northwestern Nebraska with cream & sugar & if there is room for only one leave the cream & bring the sugar. Wagons Ho!

[still.trucking]

It is desolate wind that blew my life away. Books and pictures, childhood souvenirs. Most of all the friends and family I miss.

Tonight I think about books that got away

Proust, The Remembrance of Things Past. I read and read it over the road till I lost it.

I would lay my cheeks gently against the comfortable cheeks of my pillow, as plump and blooming as the cheeks of babyhood. Or I would strike a match to look at my watch. Nearly midnight. The hour when an invalid, who has been obliged to start on a journey and to sleep in a strange hotel, awakens in a moment of illness and sees with glad relief a streak of daylight shewing under his bedroom door. Oh, joy of joys! it is morning. The servants will be about in a minute: he can ring, and some one will come to look after him. The thought of being made comfortable gives him strength to endure his pain. He is certain he heard footsteps: they come nearer, and then die away. The ray of light beneath his door is extinguished. It is midnight; some one has turned out the gas; the last servant has gone to bed, and he must lie all night in agony with no one to bring him any help.

So many long nights, sleepless and painful. Grist for the mill.

Another book
I can hardly remember
>Comparing the Hebrew and Greek concept of time.

Lost it around 1980 and I can't find it again. I think it was published by Norton.

The Jews with their historical religion, the Greeks with their historical science.

What am I doing with my life these days?

Just breathing.
Such a sweet occupation.

[mtmynd]

What am I doing with my life these days?

Just breathing.
Such a sweet occupation.

breathing is said to be the first step,
then you consciously breathe, deeply
inhale thru nose - exhale thru mouth
deep... deeper... deepest down you go
exhale slowly... rejuvenation of body
soul thankful, spirit awakens... you are
alive... alive... alive...
fuck that death
spit shit in its eye
no time for that
we'll all be dead
much longer than
we were alive
live deep
breathe deep
think deep
live deep
breathe deep
think deep
all else comes after
all on it's own accord

((how u doin', truck?))

[still.trucking]

thanks for asking my empty minded friend

I am getting by
still holding my own

[mtmynd]

having an empty mind is much easier than keeping an empty miind.

yer welcome, amigo... the day is hot, currently 87 and rising, and the air feels a bit more humid than i'd like, but who am i?

just finished some backyard work and i'm going to have some chicken enchilada leftovers that Soo put together after a refreshing shower and then, who knows? a nap sounds mighty fine about now.

take care...

[still.trucking]

"time the unbending deserter
it leaves you only the now"---the Spinoza of Baltimore.

I watched the weather this morning
gray dark gloomy sky
more rain
I was so happy for a little while
till I found it out it was the forecast for NYC.
I wish it would rain here.

For forty days
I will float away
to another shore
maybe Norway or Scotland
someplace where the seasons change
not the monotony of the seasons here.

My tomatoes are not doing well, I may replant them.
Today.

[stilltrucking]

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