don't go. don't collapse, i'll collapse. my presence depends on you.

the air feels stricken with grief. 
i say things to hear how they sound. 
i regret saying some things when i hear that sound. 
i don't like the sound. it isn't what i want to say. 
i want to say the same thing
better in a way. 
my nature comes and goes. regardless,
i have to keep a record,
of regard, i imagine 
i do. fear stopping. you can't take back a note 
once it's sent. 
if it is not received, no matter.
maybe you can say something else, 
say the thing you wanted to retract 
was just a footnote. 
anyway you have to count on some grace,
a little sympathy these days. 
it's always been the same way, these days. 
look at the insects 
gathering manna 
in the fall, feel inside the need 
to gather in too, 
gather in the need, 
prepare the grief for grief,
store the sun for winter, it may be weak,
it may be naive, yet you
try and prepare for hard times 
or death. you love. death makes love,
you can't store it for winter, 
prepare it for hard times,
hard times are coming, love
is already here. in another way the air
feels 
stricken with love.

she was stuck in the sand in the heavy wheelchair with her pup getting wild and nervously nippy. we used to see her dwarf roommate all the time with another dog, murdo, and then we didn't see her roommate and we saw her walking murdo in the wheelchair and the last time the murdo peed on mister's head, so i was kind of avoiding her, but now she's stuck and another girl's trying to help and her dog's barking tied to a pole. we got her on solid ground after a struggle, the machine heavy sinking and the dog jumping. she was standing behind the wheelchair and needing the support and trying to back herself up while holding the dog and i stupidly suggested she step aside so we could move it, and the other helper said she was deaf and couldn't walk. but she seemed to know what we were saying and signaled thanks. i think she's mute but maybe not quite deaf. it's hard to help without words i think, but then i think maybe words wouldn't make any difference. i'm glad she has a dog and can get out an i hope she doesn't get stuck again and i hope our friend her roommate and murdo are ok. 

you think about the transformations in mind and body a person may undergo and it's stunning to feel the impact, and i feel abashed at my small complaints, but it's all a mystery.

we saw that stiff couple with the sedate black dogs we lately encountered horridly on the island coming north as we came south and felt furtive even though we already intended ducking into the chain linked no-man's land to picture the cold-slowed insects waiting for warmth and the stiff couple stiffly conferred and went around the foot of spider bridge to give us a wide circumspect and continue north with the their same funereal pace resumed and i climbed up this limestone block to watch their backs get smaller.

kids.  if you are out trying to be free and walk your dog in the park and you see a po-po lurking ominously don't react automatically out of fear and assume the po-po is a motherfucking asshole. just ignore him. what if a po-po is lurking omonously in the park sez putyerdogonaleash? say ok and then dawdle and wait til the motherfucker leaves. if the motherfucker won't leave, wait. if the motherfucker approaches you, put the leash on. wait til the motherfucker leaves. take the leash off the dog. look in all directions. the motherfucking po-po may be lurking nearby. when you see the park is clear of po-po's, lift up your heart and sing, and walk light, like you were born free. 
kids. remember too when you exit the park, cars do not hafta stop for you because they are more powerful and can threaten and even kill you, like the po-po, and the po-po don't care, they don't stop cars who don't stop for kids and dogs. don't believe the old slogan, they are not here to serve and protect, they are here to act mean and control you and your dog.
i bid you peace and illicit freedom in the park and safe passage on the scary streets.

i had a little book was given to me
and every page spelled liberty

all my trials
soon be over

there is a tree in paradise
and the pilgrims call it
the tree of life

all my trials
soon be over

but it's too late, my friend,
too late,
but never mind

all my trials
soon be over

if religion were a thing
that money could by
then the rich would live
and the poor would die

all my trials
soon be over.


traditional

i had a lot of dreams, lenticular dreams, night clouds disappear by morning. somewhere under the horizon there's a constellation of lost dreams. but i woke thinking of nick drake's pink moon, none of you stand so tall, pink moon gonna get you all, pink, pink, pink...pink moon. and i listen again, and i feel the constellation near.