Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

one small step
and then another
and another
we think
each day brings more of the same
but look closer
observe
and notice
those tiny details
that weren't there
yesterday...
evolution proceeds slowly
but it proceeds
leaves behind
presses on
a book
with an infinite number of pages
turned
one by one
read them...
read.....

exact words from a friend
thoughts travel the airways
bigger than we think

we think bigger
because our friend
is always the best word.

aftermath of a stroke -
storm damage:
tiny blind spots...
occasional buckling of a knee...
a slight unsteadiness of hand
crabbed penmanship...
but mostly...
preternatural awareness
of things that can go wrong
with this aging carcass of mine

and so the jam continues...
life
(I once told my daughter)
isn't too unlike a raft trip
down a river
you can paddle and pole
steer clear of rocks
make camp on shore
but in the end
the river takes you where it wants
I've just shot the rapids
had a minor stroke
and now
the water runs smooth again
some of my gear got wet
but we'll just see how it goes
we'll just see
what's around the next bend
just have to wing it
just have to jam

sasha confirms
life after stroke
a new doorway

revolving doors
with calibre

the trigger of ammunition

touch is the bend in the water

home a state of mind

home
untidy, a little messy
but mine
a stack of books on the desk
the week's newspapers piled on the floor
awaiting Saturday's trip to the dump
the bed unmade
the floor unswept
but a clock ticks quietly on the mantle
the dog sleeps in a patch of sunshine
the dishes washed and drying in the rack
my home
home
it's good to be back

good to read
warmth travels jam thread
breath of relief

poets come and go
some we get to know
others live in obscurity
jotting down gems
on tiny scraps of paper
chronological pieces of mind
in shoe boxes,
thoughts of a woman
daze gone by, and bye
time captured in ink
for possible dissection
rainy day rummaging
looking for who we were

.

between the hills
romulus & remus
suckled upon meaning.
a small chapter of absolute value
in words expressed capturing
the free spirit of life.
sometimes before and since
similar words and stories have done the
same. sometimes unwritten.
'just' lived.

mr kren said something like the
'exceptional of the ordinary' recently.

this has eyes. and sees. and says.
and speaks. of its own place and way.
and is wonderful.


.

jam
gently spread
on the warm bread of a fresh day...
pain-free at last
lower back finally with the program
lingering numbness, but hey -
I have become
comfortably numb...
peeled off that heart monitor
returned it to sender
two miles this morning
with dog
up brigham hill...
sat in the sun
reading the papers
next up:
first proper shower
in two weeks
oh yeah -
this jam is sweet indeed
sweet sweet jam

body returns home
sleep patterns agree to visit
hugs to self

they come they go
people
thoughts
they weave their quilts
entangle with the neurons
patches of color
mix
shapes in lava lamps
psychedelic dreams
walk with concrete stick figures
passion lies in possibilities
of all that is consumed
you like strawberry jam
I like orange marmalade
one day I taste yours
one day you taste mine
and one day
we stir them up together
in just the right proportions

strawberry jam
vs
orange marmalade...
tomato
tomahto
all the same
we each bring to the table
something unique
like in those spy yarns
where each agent has a piece of information
useless in itself
but in combination with the others'
brings revelation
I'll write what I know
you write what you know
and together
we'll know more