Posts

guus you're daddy now!

It will have all been said now. .

the hard stuff

It’s the grass, you don’t notice but it’s uneven. The life under a tough sun. It’s been too easy to lie down, not take any of it. A smoked out clarity as well. And loud music always carries in these times. Fire sits inside the wood, but it dies at some time. There’ll be time, risen in air, breath of desperate ages. For knowledge, you can still go there. How I found out is skin, and underneath. Nerves flower out bare need. Sun sits on the air. A day slowly wears and is moved by turn. Clouds don’t need to know. Raw being which moves. Welcome to a new overlay. And out there the valley knows nothing.

to dream whenever lights go

We may be afraid of need the very sound of the portal between the ever and this reality. Perhaps you feel there’s something jerky about the music inserted at horizons though it once had been sedated. Perhaps the trees will stand willingly sounding strange wind-up notes like strings as midnight specials to remember, again.

birds, falling

Below in passages, the shadows are shuffled The moon was full but now discounted, falling What are the benefits of living underground If I touch your breath will it release me Sand replaces sand, and water …? The birds fall out of the valley Perhaps it’s because I’ve become excess The freedom to empty your mind has gone Careful even laughter is falling Some days just holding up Oh my beloved grass, you are like the sea Within the ear lies the difficult pearl The crow becomes a small episode See how stars waver before falling

listening ...

Métropolitain (includes a poem by Boris Vian) - Emmanuel Santarromana Olé - John Coltrane Plays the Blues - John Coltrane Le Pas du Chat Noir - Anouar Brahem DJ Kicks - Daddy G

off the street updating

I've added a few things to some pages at off the street .

Into blue

Blue lifts from the horizon fish hide in the eye of the sun. Travelling back over, closing. The dark water's mouths whisper at the bow white songs. So wave cuts story in green sea, cross currents. Salt stings our vision oil spreads surface with shadow slippery, memory's taste. Journey sticky with scale pattern shaded with weed. And always moving away.