Winter

Winter

What a weird way to experience this. . . 


Something forgotten : everyone has a right to life.


     no matter the purpose or value 


I stood outside
on that cool night
watching the clouds
caught in streams
of wind pass me by.
   

seams stretched
by tufted fingers
and downy swirls
layering, stacking
the only distinctions
being darker and darker

 
The pines stood silent and watched
as I watched the moon
open up the clouds. For a brief
moment, maybe more.
 

Luminous
as if the light
were a broom
brushing away the cloud
and confusion

Layer after layer—
yet, the moon shone
through. And I, the
    sentinel—
as if it needed an audience


the wake of clouds piling
  back over the heart-orb

sinking deeper into these
  inner layers

Fucking WordPress

For me one of the most valuable interactions with a user is starting a chat and seeing they are ready to jump off a ledge, early in the chat they’ll give you some sass, and by the end of it you have them thanking you and learning something new. Now they can go back to posting about mindfulness and the benefits of being calm.

Probably my Happiness Engineer

Thanks to Desiree F and Tanya T, my Happiness Engineers for getting me through my issue and helping me to learn a few new tricks. Now they can go home and relax and probably not think about ending it all due to their low pay and high stress workload. They deserve a raise.

Fucking WordPress

I had a poem for you today. It was quite fantastic, if I do say, but wordpress editor doesn’t seem to like the way I use to do things in order to get the most basic look I wanted. You know the simple layout I always use. So, sorry to say, I don’t have a poem for you today.

It’s either only a block paragraph or this…

What a joke

Tonight

Tonight
the Aspen is
clacking
in the breeze.
It’s very similar
to the nails of
a raccoon
on the branch,
shuffling leaves,
climbing limbs.

I hear it
because
I listen.

Orion’s Belt is robust
in the Northern sky.
Has the archer been
fattening up for the
winter?

These dandelion
leaves are
translucent
in the moonlight—
like my mind
and the river of
words that flows
through.

I’m sitting here taking slow, deep breaths, following the course of in and out, taking my breath as object of concentration, arousing concern, when it hits me, that I am my breath, a constant flux of in and out, so long as I am capable of sustaining this discovery and scrutiny.

The Conversation Artist

 

To be read in the voice of Charlie Sheen:

 

I’ve given up the writ-

ten word, given in to

the limitations and mirrored

reality. so that i can focus

on the art of conversation.

like me it leaves no trace

at least no paper trail

no more trying to be

published, polished

no more trying to be

what i think They want.

Is there any other art form

in this day and age that could

have a more profound effect?

A conversation can’t be

commercialized, and sold,

it’s not profitable, unless

you’re in on it.

A conversation is love

an art form that is

the truest expression of life.