The filter of lights through limbs is tendrils of thoughts bidden in & out of my eyes, like a fountainhead or saint to cover my back.
The most feeling I could ever covet thru relationship (the I & I perspective) is me & the trees.
Not because they are sentient-reflective as if my life is conjured, but because I am (sentient).
Though you have established the drama, whose actors (you & I) are destined to leave the script by & by for only brief moments, otherwise our finesse is left to that which cannot speak back to us, and in this silence is where we find self-actualization.
The gray of night, painted spiritually true, muffles the contours of trees making them black scaffolds, with flutters of wings playing tricks on us,
as if the architecture of vista-scape would be policed by lights shed only from activity we conceive in the natural day of interplay,
shadows obfuscated into the density of grasses, urban animals abound, including us, breathing the better air--our eyes have turned to plants!!
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Wait/It isn't so great/Since you learned karate chop chop chop chop chop/You're walking machs/And I'm just swimming in the slop slop slop slop slop/You wave your wand at me/And make me dance flip-flop flop flop flop flop/I want to sing for you/And make your head go pop pop pop pop pop/The Inuit man/Had not so much a Caesar/He had provision/Say/You're spraying in the windy/And I'm just pissing off off off off off/I'm literally deaf down here/From your canned philosoph soph soph soph/Softly can you hear me/Through the sucking of you quaff quaff quaff quaff quaff/I'm Thalassocracy/And you're just Romanov
-Frank Black
has nothing to do with the post, but man can the dude write. i suggest you pick up his solo album "Teenager of the Year"
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