today i no longer loose confidence in my self
today the path i started when i was four will
begin to be paved with solid stone pried from
the earth, churned up from the earth
formed after eons, housing the building blocks of life-
today i arose upon sinuous wings and rode the currents
as deftly as an albatross all be it still young in years
yet flight is no longer a mystery and direction is irrelevant.
i am all ears, eyes, hands and heart!
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Sunday, July 4, 2010
june twentysixth 2010
06/23/10
Even though it's merely on Greyhound, it feels good to be moving across the vertical plane.
On the road! Cashews, dried mango and semi fresh cherries are my travel fare, and my Kalamazoo bred Gibson RB250 circa 1970 is making it's maiden voyage with me (- i really need to get this thing insured.)
This is time to heal, Dallas will be the Maelstrom, Fort Worth the Gateway, and Weatherford the Last Outpost and Lipan... Rest.
Milana comes on Friday and so too hopes of progressing through the unlit corridor and again into the Wood and on to Open Country.
the City, even Austin, takes it's toll, there's grit on every street and the cars have it for
breakfast, so too do the drivers i suspect. and in Texas the Sun beats down to remind us of
Trees and Water, although some only think Air Conditioning.
My phone is off and i won't know what time it is until i get to Dallas.
Salado is sleeping out of Time; an anachronism on a map, outwardly hiding things like the
the Interweb and Plasma T.V.
Even though it's merely on Greyhound, it feels good to be moving across the vertical plane.
On the road! Cashews, dried mango and semi fresh cherries are my travel fare, and my Kalamazoo bred Gibson RB250 circa 1970 is making it's maiden voyage with me (- i really need to get this thing insured.)
This is time to heal, Dallas will be the Maelstrom, Fort Worth the Gateway, and Weatherford the Last Outpost and Lipan... Rest.
Milana comes on Friday and so too hopes of progressing through the unlit corridor and again into the Wood and on to Open Country.
the City, even Austin, takes it's toll, there's grit on every street and the cars have it for
breakfast, so too do the drivers i suspect. and in Texas the Sun beats down to remind us of
Trees and Water, although some only think Air Conditioning.
My phone is off and i won't know what time it is until i get to Dallas.
Salado is sleeping out of Time; an anachronism on a map, outwardly hiding things like the
the Interweb and Plasma T.V.
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