i hear the quail cry!

today:
the spider eats
a centipede
the dog lies down
upside down.
on a broken pool
my bald head feels crunch,
be cool - its only the fissures;
the mystery of the white sedan
every window open &
flying lotus
raging demon
dvd burner,
dirty brushes
painted knives
last rites.

somehow at this stage in my life the world has seen it fit to allow me the luxury of being a painter and that's about it. the machinations of life have thrown me a gift, something i should examine closely and not reject. i should pursue with all the muster i can bear this gift / time. it may never come again, and the feeling of everything being too late would be a great pain to bear. i don't understand how i have been allowed this, what grants me this freedom or if only i have granted it to myself, but at this time i have felt the enormous luxury of it and will try and hold this reception to keep something warm in the stomach of my body as i work.

i am quiet

to hear the world

i am loud

to escape my fear

in the darkness

i shake

& pray,

that love will find its way.