mumbling to myself aloud, in public. at times it is embarrassing, but it is as it is.
I know you're expecting art!
It is here, but interwoven / embedded with cyber residue of life.
Saturday, November 12, 2011
blue is the color of the day
blue tape marking studs to find later when Sheetrock hides their anchoring grain away, blue boxes (one more to go) to ensure code compliance, blue sky while porching it under the daylight's celestial vaulted canopy with my dad, the blue glint off my new galvanized ceiling fan installed, again blue glint off the blur of the chain turning saw my dad wields. blue. all this blue gives the illusion of leaps and bounds forward on the hermitage home front. reality is it moves forward beyond slow, it yawns like an open cavern of dreams yet to be lived. i am slow to move, slow to rise and I sit at its edge and hear the deer graze, the hawk glide; I sit at its edge and smell the pine and oak canopies rustle in song; I sit at its edge and caress the brittle grasses bend; I sit at its edge and consider stirring but instead sit still. I don't expect shyness to fade (though I mask it the best I can), I don't expect the naivety of believing people are profoundly good to dissipate (though I have become quite wary), i don't expect to wrangle multiple tasks or roles at once (though I get overwhelmed as I try), I don't expect people to be other than they are (though sometimes it hurts), i don't expect to not laugh again (though I oft cry), i don't expect decay to ebb and slow (though a nice thought), I don't expect to not be grateful (though I get clouded at times), I don't expect to forget (though I know I will).
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