swimming eyes laughing
underwater gulping clean
kindness over me




Such a sad day
I interviewed for a cemetery grounds keeper position in rememberence of today.



I Think It's Going to Rain Today
Song
by
Randy Newman
1968,
Song was
covered by many artists, Norah Jones is this one.

Broken windows and empty hallways
A pale dead moon in the sky streaked with gray
Human kindness is overflowing
And I think it's going to rain today
Scarecrows dressed in the latest styles
With frozen smiles to chase love away
Human kindness is overflowing
And I think it's going to rain today
Lonely, lonely
Tin can at my feet
Think I'll kick it down the street
That's the way to treat a friend
Bright before me the signs implore me
To help the needy and show them the way
Human kindness is overflowing
And I think it's going to rain today.

https://youtu.be/8YcerSbxEWo?si=vyJPlcCs7krjZOR1

What a waterfall is like to a river
Is What a black hole is to space,
everywhere is around us.

trying to find their meaning for existence
humans can escape their earth body's mathematical precision,
Search the sky by a seance.

Using a ouija board to ask, who is out there?
spirit offered me the use of it, as my body, like a pencil lead is falling away
onto the paper space in writing.

I am automatic following movements curving inwardly to know, what is in
here?
The known alphabet disappears
Mysterious math takes over
to try to explain read or reason.

between these layered skin equations, the lines
I observe time moving - faster-
As I look backward
events appear to be moving away from me, and the farther time is away from me to record it - slower -

moving outward toward a point
called the event horizon, the events answer
back with a single signal or sigil.
everywhere is around us.

" Salong ! Chipley ! "

frocked higher and higher
  turning bluer than blue

  The last thing you complain
Is Who's knocking on your chest
Like a poem making it through
  Life didnt have a better end
than the One Chip Challenge.

Direct me
However dense various images overwhelmed my sixth sense
My little finger sparks and
Second natures tap.

Whose ***** is she,
someone stands on the corner,
influencing the planets with her sign
did **** take a hit?

pain. take care
sweet heart
deliver to me inside me hurts

The names of plants are plenty -
incant and hope in chemicals
the ground to rise or give up.

Messages are soon delivered on trains
We are the World
her horrible tragedy is over,
And what minerals selling
points to the plot,
In comedy.


The scene photograph
peirces me in these pictures
wheels white and soundless
A good show in goldleaf
, and know little else-
for i am alone in her theater
without her,
Just me and my pipe,
now, simply existing;
a heaven on earths i do not care for.

Time in Doses too little
Love my libel on his word,
just asked in my bible.

I'll be someone's lesser,
now, firmly believe in pain
wandering begger
and blindly pulling off
all that I've gathered inside
A hypodermic needle.

So long ago and far away
to the frosty night
I traveled on that pipe
so far to or from
When it will begin

carry a tune,
caligraphy,
darned socks
we're all aboard and
A Northern wind
Spirit gifts us.

Horrors
were just time spent quilting
A train pulses
its pillow smoke
as she hushs the neighbors to sleep
along the tracks
Erased the last few yards.

her beautifully closed eyelids
meets next to each stop
Steam rises up to my nostrils
as pulsing dreams
I was
Loved once in traveling
in those pillows that gather up on the down thrusts.

We are the world as theives
to old pipers music,
notes inside the body
of these discordant tunes.

as everyone else doses
Gotta get me that final letter
stopping by your grade A
doped up next to my F
Noone has asked me to do better.

I offer up in small devotionals
All my HOLISMs to their Almighty Vigils
  as a Creed
In vain hope that These credits work
  as kryptonite.