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.

 

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Before

(The shaded stele.)

After

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Someone wore a white sox.

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Bugging flowers.

Buzzing flies and humming bees.

Hiss and Hush

and you can creep right up and observe.

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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.

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Roots reaching.

Balling out and into.20190611_1143126097203433938437498.jpg

Creating

A lee.

Shelter and cover.

Shade being thrown over you.20190611_1143295143255687532570050.jpg

The cottonwood graces those spiderwebs which are so finely spun they are only indicated by the cottonwood snow.

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Flight caught from above and below.

 

A containment of water.

A o O 0

A circle almost completed.

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Ferns shade a shallow empoolment of liquid.

The evaporation will be affected.

Effect of dissipating one state of matter

into

another one.

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Water Moving.

 

Water Still.

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Re-

fleck-

ting.20190611_1130525249225905770649695.jpg

A very tiny rabbit hole, unless you are tiny.

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Light falling on water

Hidden in the corner.

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Glassy separation not frozen.

Inching.

To the edge.

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These are the chambers.

There are levels.

Of a ladder.

Alice says.

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Four out of five days a new mole surfaced only to fall asleep

Again.

Again.

Again.

Not-again.

Again.

 

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?

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Hanging by a plant,

pint and a praeter-prayer.

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One branch a’loosened. Snapped. Remaining.

The bark of a

tree’s tread. Rubber meeting road-air.

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Veined loam.

20190610_135552700335058920421122.jpg Detritus.

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Vitriol.

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A feather/s lost is no

clipped wing but

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Bird might have gone

down-y.

I well-aged pair of companions.

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Purple seeps in.

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Light hangs in

almost-rainbows.

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Gone before you can even blink.


Driven snow around and on the ground.

The Nature of the Forest Today

This is juxtaposition

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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.

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Feedback on me.

Otherwise, the robin in the rain makes better company currently.

Such a saucy fellow.

Showers always made

him…

…wait for it.20190608_1223286458269038784145332.jpg

The sky confused and

confusing time changing.20190608_1224274722506816231746345.jpg

Protective turns opulent in opalescence.

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The beauty of opening.20190608_1233432986746953645709405.jpg

The beauty of splaying.

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Time-resistant skin.

Elegant rhinosarus-dermis.

Still moist, somehow.20190608_1237112307176480307766013.jpg

Meets the confusion of curves.

Collective noun style.

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In ever widening circular cases of you, ewe.

In you.

You in.20190608_1239068898421282927636058.jpg

I hear you, here.

Look at you bellowing, pretty thing.20190608_1240275914448220373648531.jpg

Cottonwood seed absorbs in its resonant, spidery remains.

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Arching in ecstasy.

Boughing and bowing

Bowled over.

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Divisors.

Create foam.

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Some tire so completely

they resurface on their

backs

and asleep.

Three such gents just this week.

Suppose it makes the fly’s feast.20190608_125309518728743505912448.jpg

Do you remember meeting here?

Where tree grows out of

stone.20190608_1257167777437464350210044.jpg

Dog esshit or esshinola?

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The buzzing of the approaching nearing the a’spread.

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Alit on the globe.

Buzz, you say?

Humm, is what I say.

Also, Howl.
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Balance & Proportion (News After Rain)

Wary berry blooms protect their own.

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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?

20190607_1210503923732410043798482.jpg 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.

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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.

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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.

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Hail.

The crane that reaches after being broken.

Its own feathers have become moss it may molt then eat

Regeneration of self.

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If you want to take a tripe trip.

Drink the swill and see the seepage of the col(our)s’

Saturation.

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Oil from the trails from shimmering slugs.

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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.

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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.

 

You Seeking That?

I cannot


me


I want to



Music hooks my attention. If ‘decent,’ it moves through my spine like currents.

Time changes.

Threaded to be unwound

Like a record’s groove.

Linear thread to unwind in the minotaur’s maze.

Did you bring your own thread this time?


Trying to attune to the ephemeral and corporeal energetic grid.

Doing in contribution, perhaps sight unseen.

Tao.

Tao of the mystic

Doubt everything and everyone

while

simultaneously

trusting people and things to be who and what they ‘are.’

Method of attempted peace and openness.

‘Parzifal’ notes

P. thought “only by passive love will he prevail.” Is verse from book VII only made in response to the A.’s first request of the seer: “make herself perfectly passive” in order he might communicate freely.”?


Hummm. Still working on wtf we have here in terms of meaning.