1.0
Category: Creative Nonfiction
Literature
Parçigal’s Tao
She’s clumsy. A rushy bumbler who tries too hard and cares too much. Still, she managed/s to be ineffective. She had just been here so long.
She forgot other people could not tell right away.
And so, she had raced in and embarrassed herself with a bit too much gusto, in front of her new acquaintance/s.
Or, so she assumed.
She wanted him to take her dancing, places where real players made analog and live digital music they converted to other mediums afterward.
In a room where people were still allowed to smoke.
Even when they choose not to.
It would be loud, crowded, and their lungs would hurt the next day.
kool cat
Shifting Sun
Parallel curves.
The flower on the stelé was gone by the time i passed it again.
I replaced it with another wildflower.
A triad of complementary colors.
A bit of red.
A coy bit of red.
The last of the spoils of fall’s autumn.
The Hard Swallow
The hard swallow. Sometimes it feels good, sometimes it challenges.
Sometimes, it hurts good and proper.
At times, it just aches.
The taxidermist did a fine job.
Time cost. Moment to moment. What system of valuation do we use to assess our own choices?
Incremental, linear.
Exponential.
Scales of magnitude.
The red queen nailed a few posts into the ground.
At the last peg she told Alice
“Goodbye.”
Illywhackers once glib and smug now understand how
[frightened] and [scared]
are not the same.
Yet, no price replaces and no dream undistills
the realization that contrarians can be cowards.
The burning sun rises as my moon today.
A boudoir of meditation, breathwork, bareness
And open-secrets.
A saucer of milk for the feline.
Love split in two and i say i keep it with others.
The pitfall is when you need them to share it back with you on a busy, misunderstood day. Better to share it than to hoard it, but there may be
No blame, no
fingerbanging guns.
Is this when what was invaluable
becomes valueless?
The deer does not worry for the hunter.
The deer worries about all hunters,
categorically.
A test woke the crow
I find laces.
I re-eyelet the hiking boots.
I pressure wrap my ankle.
I try to walk around the block before going to the trail head.
The sleeping crow vanished.
In lieu i find this.
Same crow?
Who knows?
Asleeping Crow
And the plane went
straight up
or else straight down?
Restlessly Peaceful
A stroll.
Quick and fast like.
I saw a big moon.
I passed two cyclists.
One asked me, “How did you get here?”
“I walked,” I said.
I saw a fault indicator.
It did not indicate if a fault had been found.
Once around the Block
A swollen ankle following a trip in the forest.
I hurt it dancing.
Curious night.
I espied two bees.
Too quick to capture.
I sat for a few moments
This was the ground below
The yellow wild flowers across the way.
The planted, multi-color behind me.
I curious shape situated in the middle of the across the way.
A heart n the sky.
The sky broad-stroked.
Blooms i have been anticipating.
1st i have sceene.
Slapped By The Sun in the Forest
The sun shocks the forest today.
What looks like white flowers turn out to be hard rays of light slapping against the greenery.
Just dots of rays slicing through.
Strange yellows descend into the green haze. White Light.
Heat of the summer begins.
Before
(The shaded stele.)
After
Someone wore a white sox.
Bugging flowers.
Buzzing flies and humming bees.
Hiss and Hush
and you can creep right up and observe.
Who went here? I w/o/ander.
The visual heat of the light makes it easier to see a thing by the shadow it is
casting.
Roots reaching.
Balling out and into.
Creating
A lee.
Shelter and cover.
Shade being thrown over you.
The cottonwood graces those spiderwebs which are so finely spun they are only indicated by the cottonwood snow.
Flight caught from above and below.
A containment of water.
A o O 0
A circle almost completed.
Ferns shade a shallow empoolment of liquid.
The evaporation will be affected.
Effect of dissipating one state of matter
into
another one.
Water Moving.
Water Still.
Re-
fleck-
ting.
A very tiny rabbit hole, unless you are tiny.
Light falling on water
Hidden in the corner.
Glassy separation not frozen.
Inching.
To the edge.
These are the chambers.
There are levels.
Of a ladder.
Alice says.
Four out of five days a new mole surfaced only to fall asleep
Again.
Again.
Again.
Not-again.
Again.
How science can be lyrical.
Effie’s Dream Notes
Effie keeps a notepad @ her bedside w/ the intention of recording her dreams while they are still fresh. It was a challenge to remember about it when she first began. But, after nearly a decade, she did it involuntarily, it was a natural bodily function.
Like
Blinking.
She had to remind herself just as much as she had to remind her heart to beat.
She records whatever seems relevant in that boundary dynamic of sleepfulness and waking.
Unsleeping;
she does it w/o intending to do it. Reading back thru what she wrote, it was as tough as though
it came from a stranger’s pen
is some other than her own pen.
is not.
Many times, recently, her notes were statements of facts; assertions of knowledge gleamed from some ungnown authority. At first, it was always descriptions of the dream itself.
Now, it was only the revelations reaped in the dreamscape.
The most recent revelation.
Effie is Emory. Emory was Effie. That was before Effie graduated high-school
and Emory went to college.
Forest Down: It snowed Cottonwood
Canary-ied.
A yellow monarch on
bloom flutters-by.
That is not random light, it is a worm
suspended by a satin string.
Spinning mid-air.
Center-stage
of the path.
Is that a good or a bad day for the creature?
Hanging by a plant,
pint and a praeter-prayer.
One branch a’loosened. Snapped. Remaining.
The bark of a
tree’s tread. Rubber meeting road-air.
Veined loam.
Detritus.
Vitriol.
A feather/s lost is no
clipped wing but
Bird might have gone
down-y.
I well-aged pair of companions.
Purple seeps in.
Light hangs in
almost-rainbows.
Gone before you can even blink.
Driven snow around and on the ground.
Guess what this is?
This is a trashcan with pollen on it.
Pretty, no?
Unsheathed
And pitted.
Sheared.
A dragonfly found dead, yet posed by nature.
Before that, another’s wing was clipped.
It must not fly now, should it live.
A drag.
This is a w/hole in the ground from above.
The above is actually a rotting tree, cut in half and lying on its side.
You know what this is, right?
Have you ever tried this?
Write something.
Wait.
Then,
read it and weep.
Giggle with me?
The forcefield is too big. ‘Cause, it used to have to be, possibly.
Not anyone’s fault.
We can always blame
No-One.
Or bang (bang).
During our REM dream states.
Not in the same environment ampersand; now, the forcefield is energetically askew and effing with the universal grid?
How ostensibly ego-centric to think so, no? Yeah?
What?
Compassion for self.
Self-hatred was that wall that enabled self-preservation.
- i hated myself for hurting/you hate yourself for hurting;
i do not hate what hurt me/you do not hate what hurt you.
What hurt me (you) did/does not hate me
(you).
It is that silly and dumb to hear aloud from this fool.
How to answer the question: Can you truly say ‘no’?
Giggle.
Try to say what you mean when you answer that one.
Howl I
(can)
howl.
This is not deliberate confusion.
But, sure seems confusingly deliberate.
Rejoinder?
Indulgence relative. Just do not hurt people.
Three reasons I love a timely, kind laugh.
Apparently.
- see 1. above
- Authenticity under austerity becomes through sincerity ?
- It is not that you pay for what you get; it is that you get what you pay* for.
*we ain’t just talking currency/wages, folks.
It is okay to admit you are enraged at a potentially outrageous situation.
Enrage is your ego yelling.
Outrage is your heart yelling.
Your heart only yells when others suffer too.
Being enraged and being outraged is possible.
Being enraged and ego-maniacal is possible.
What a drag….
….that i cannot get over myself until I admit that I cannot get over myself.
This is silent howling.
This is giggling.
This is authentic, at the least (
Right
exactly now
). Are you over yourself already?
What are these sighs that I imagine?
Whose low end groan comes down the cans?
Speculation: A song that can end itself and not just fade out.
Humm.
Written Whence Who Gnosis
Complete the sentence?
(di un corpu celestial) foscate a lumero da o (…)
Cadence and rhythm
Cadence and rhythm
Two things that remain
In my refrain
Time and time
Lost
again.
The Nature of the Forest Today
This is juxtaposition
This is not syncretism.
Chains trying to work in nature.
Snake espied. First thing.
Black
&
Sea Foam, cool green.
Longitudinal and kindly striped
safe.
Per se.
Feedback on me.
Otherwise, the robin in the rain makes better company currently.
Such a saucy fellow.
Showers always made
him…
…wait for it.
The sky confused and
confusing time changing.
Protective turns opulent in opalescence.
The beauty of opening.
The beauty of splaying.
Time-resistant skin.
Elegant rhinosarus-dermis.
Still moist, somehow.
Meets the confusion of curves.
Collective noun style.
In ever widening circular cases of you, ewe.
In you.
You in.
I hear you, here.
Look at you bellowing, pretty thing.
Cottonwood seed absorbs in its resonant, spidery remains.
Arching in ecstasy.
Boughing and bowing
Bowled over.
Divisors.
Create foam.
Some tire so completely
they resurface on their
backs
and asleep.
Three such gents just this week.
Suppose it makes the fly’s feast.
Do you remember meeting here?
Where tree grows out of
stone.
Dog esshit or esshinola?
The buzzing of the approaching nearing the a’spread.
Alit on the globe.
Buzz, you say?
Humm, is what I say.
Also, Howl.
Late Night Con-side-ration
He asks me: Do you know the distinction between ‘conceal’ and ‘reveal’?
I ask him: Is it a con-, rev-?
Gigg
Ell.
Balance & Proportion (News After Rain)
Wary berry blooms protect their own.
Just because bizarreness manifests does not mean it is unfriendly.
Though sometimes I relish your impatient sounding voice of exposition.
Giggle.
Who ever said it would be easy?
The last bit of seed supplants itself, even unto the blacktop of ass-fault/y/.
. {Hopeful} .
The early days of summer are the dying days of spring.
Seedlings waiting to naught-be
In
Vain
And take true blue
Root-
Ed.
Dead leaves from other tomes fallen and caught by wooden paper and branches
wearing white, kid-gloves.
A lady’s fingers.
Lady-fingers. Fingers hanging down and reaching up.
The gate entering the wetland and off-leash area is lush today.
A coyote trotted before me two days ago. I thought it was a German Shepard.
He grinned from ear to ear.
The heron appeared twice.
Humid and water-heavy.
The colors hang incorrectly correct.
Let your spine chill or feel your own fear.
Impeccability in being over time without attempting but always trying.
Hail.
The crane that reaches after being broken.
Its own feathers have become moss it may molt then eat
Regeneration of self.
If you want to take a tripe trip.
Drink the swill and see the seepage of the col(our)s’
Saturation.
Oil from the trails from shimmering slugs.
Nautical foliage present like rocks that move on accord of their own.
Forest coral corrals.
The summer eyes of the serpent peer in protective ampersand near-maleficent passion.
In through the nose, out through the nose;
In through the nose, out of the mouth;
In through the nose, out through the nose;
In through the mouth, our through mouth;
In through the nose….
Juxtapose and toes.
Shower riffs and drips
Hot
Then cold
Water
Diabolical
Pendulous.
The twist of a circle
A lobster boiling in a shower stall.
Slow breath
From the shudder shock of
A sure stock
Maverick
Unmarked.
A’howl at a new moon.
Like everytime
But, anew.
Getting the feels
At every hint of the new news.
Tell your aunt you did what you said.
Made
Got
And slabbed before anyone else could grab.
Shake and look you in the face.
Where’d you get the notion that a sea is an ocean?
WrittenCasey 