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.

Reel to Real

Transition equal

the changing of the

guard or the gourd?

Howl. Giggle.

Does this and that prove x, yet?

Did it hurt, ewe?

Tell me true.

Folks ain’t used to fools acting differently?

Do, do what you do.

I know. and

I do.

allow people to hear anew

Vessel unvasseled.

No game, no simple-tool, not an achievement

not religions.

Love in the key note of the tonic

of a practice of ecstasy.

 

Just breathe.

 

Method before theory, dummy.

Fear versus fright

on the fight or flight

that wilt be

pay-per-view

tonight.

 

Howl I smile.

New does not mean novel, dear.

Praise, you say?

What’s that like, I say?

I caw-ckle aloud but only inside.

Hun, if it is not a game then there is no

prize to win.

Just a desire to hunt and

that is regardless of the financial costs some

enobligate in self-defense.

I am fickle, am I?

I am love and love hated.

Loved hatred and hatred loved.

I submit that I am written.

Tolle lege.

The lesson is

it does not matter what

The lesson is

Don’t overlook the symbols.

I was taught we inherit the problems of a previous, now non-corporeal generation,

but, I don’t believe we can

blame ourselves for their

patterns within which we

now

find ourselves.

A carbonic processing of your pinot.

Noir.

Dark.

The guy in the corner?

A martial artist.

A soldier in disguise.

Blacklisted for the blackbelt earnt in logistics.

The Nature of the Forest Today

This is juxtaposition

20190608_1217481781803437867602287.jpg20190608_1218304152754983008238105.jpg

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.

20190608_1220245381186208546680318.jpg

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.

20190608_1230578295916619829323595.jpg

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.

20190608_123755337490513161967147.jpg

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.

20190608_1242075689401316971118665.jpg

Arching in ecstasy.

Boughing and bowing

Bowled over.

20190608_124403759224615544030243.jpg

Divisors.

Create foam.

20190608_1249042306297341990759054.jpg

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?

20190608_1259036144656978126643356.jpg

The buzzing of the approaching nearing the a’spread.

20190608_1300301860982661394304139.jpg

Alit on the globe.

Buzz, you say?

Humm, is what I say.

Also, Howl.
20190608_1305212959419221803987163.jpg

 

 

 

 

 

Balance & Proportion (News After Rain)

Wary berry blooms protect their own.

20190607_1200078922576436800789228.jpg

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.

20190607_120828218660707162301305.jpg

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.

20190607_1141278959481974298340708.jpg

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.

20190607_1144189162039321462249399.jpg

Hail.

The crane that reaches after being broken.

Its own feathers have become moss it may molt then eat

Regeneration of self.

20190607_1148317998971775404093212.jpg

If you want to take a tripe trip.

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

Saturation.

20190607_1201473268662323356130172.jpg

Oil from the trails from shimmering slugs.

20190607_1204481971247510481792782.jpg

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.

20190607_1150147397282367151086624.jpg

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.

 

Disposition Reflection

Doorways, arches, and gates.

Magic.

My repetitions are a fact.

Tree roots gnarl like the five fingers of one hand.

20190606_1431576616788561479566679.jpg

Wisps of ether become yours in the visible spectrum.

Everyday.

Plain

Magic.

It is in our air.

Scandalous fleshed exposure of a barely leafed tree.

20190606_1435382966666362987081106.jpg

How can you feel on stage in a clearing alone?

Prowling.
Stalking words on stilts over creeks.

 

Let us fly our kites here.

20190606_1440352008412392085638944.jpg

My stone panther re-enlivens from winter as a summer moss.

Humid and heavy on the trees.

20190606_1442432075246948949153952.jpg

Silence. Again.

Why had she said so much?

Why did she not listen?

Again? Selfish?

She knew it kinda hurt.

So, she wo/andered as she wa/ondered.

Could 24 hours of her silence help her hear?

Speak, please.

If you wilt.

She is patient.

Eight Miles on Foot Later

I passed a snake sunnjng its belly on the path.

Unconcerned and un-aggressive.

I passed two small, white-tailed hares that quickly scampered home into the bramble.

I cried for a man i miss painfully today.

Ten to Six

Fiery breath smokes the air.

I inhale through my mouth and hold the air fast,

And hold myself still.

My eyes roll backwards as my shoulder stretches,

Strumming a tendon into tremors

producing in me

trembles from the

strange vibrations.

Shades drawn tight against the sky’s night.

Cicadas chirpin’ lazy protest.

I espy a note on my coffee table:

“Ruin your own show. Don’t feed me soft words, when my eyes go hard.”

My cheeks burn vermillion in the morning air.

Sly smile.


I will wear my hair straight today.

Disambiguation…

The line is not: You pay for what you get.


The steganographia is not the encryption is not the transcryption,

Nor is it the ostensible coding.


Encoding=scribing.


The poison is the dose.

The doz>s>e is the poison.

The map is not the region.

“Here I do have a theory: Perhaps we got across because we sailed on the ocean and not on a map.”

THE RA EXPEDITIONS

Thor Heyerdahl

DOUBLEDAY publishing

Page (ostensibly) 341 aka M(42)

Imagine that ( x ) = x in subSCRIPT

Here you find (sub)SCrypçione


The lyric is: you get what you pay for.

Watch “Joni Mitchell – Black Crow W/Lyrics” on YouTube

No rights, pure homage.

A person mentioned this song recently.

It suits my day today.

Of course, there is always Joni song that suits any given day.

Cheers.

Fretted

A dancing string is a strummed and fretted wire

Upon which I perform my own tightwire act.

Balance aloft on shakey footing.

There is no safety net should the string snap.

Freefalling into sound endlessly, a runaway elevator in an interminable shaft.

Heaven is in the drone of sounds in stereo

…}k/no s/word/s{…

Pure Fool-ish

The aposiopesis that-


Be silent.

Breathe in through your nose. Now out again.

Breathe a’nosed ampersand your throat holds

your vocal chords

like the high hat gets grabbed after being struck.

Affecting a dinging dash, effectively curt-short.


My aprosexia caused the aposiopesis heard.

The quiet heard round the world.

A black star beheld.

Image captured and imagined.

Both facts of apropos material manifesting.


a priori.

Literally, from what is before.

a posteriori

Reasoning from facts and/or effect

to principles and/or cause

,í am in a state of chaos,

..like swans carried about as on a mirror pond..

}}}í drift(?) as if í have nowhere to rest{{{


Find a duck if you want to be followed and have followers.

Find a goose if you need something for your stew pot.

Allow swans their songs in the keynote of ecstasy.

Sung in silence for one who hears.

Become beside yourself; and admire the garden of live flowers


Petra Paas

Curtsy Ampersand Curt-Say: A Hue of Parciful.

DAY I: She looked odd.  Not quite ill.  Unwell.

DAY II: She got lost in her dreams.

DAY III: She acquired the knowledge that she got lost in her dreams.

DAY IV:


he had died;

he knew;

he saw his mom;

he took the professor as his

dad.

Together, they climbed the Mountain of Knowledge.

Together, they discovered their mistake;


ws_Sky_dream_1680x1050-1.jpg

Summit¹, 1. The highest part; the top; vertex. 2. The highest degree; maximum. [< L\f\. sum-mum, apex.]

– (_      << {[x ]} >>      _) –

acme ; apex ; cap ; climax ; crown ; height ; peak ; pinnacle ; top ; vertex

abyss ; base ; bottom ; chasm ; deep ; depth ; gorge ; gulf ; pit ; vale ; valley

sum’mit-al, α.                                                                                                    –sum’-mit-less, α.


 

He finished his building of the edifice.

[Open-Secret x: he had long finished building his edifice.] 

[Lesser-known≈Open-secret F(x): he thought he knew this already.  he could and would finish when it was effing good and done. or whenever the hell he felt like it. this, as proven by dint-of diligence and curiosity, proved assumption.  Not knowledge.]

Structure now structuralized, materialism became the a priori axiom.  (The god’s honest truth, mister police osiffer!)   ‘Things exist!  We see them all about.’

“Do not be foolish, young man. The abstract is the weakness of man, our curse.  For pride. For our lack of discipline over our baser instincts.  Our physical body unfurled and made manifest this gift of life, permitted our superior brains to make-manifest.  And, then we perceived; and Lo, it is good.  This blessed perception affords our dominion over the land and the beast-




Effie here. Hi. Sorry to interrupt, but she gets flowery and the lyrical-ity requires editing. Mystæ, right?  Geez.  We are short on time right-exactly-now.  As her younger sister, I periodically jump in and get to the point.  She thinks empiricists are “as non-secular” as the religious or spiritualists. Her words there.  I think she means that Academia and the Western Medical Paradigm and the Scientifics and the Technophiles, that whole lot of ’em….


Excuse me, kindly; I would be much obliged if you refrained from all or nothing/either or language, Effie. Shall we call it “a predominate number”: (or at least the loudest voices currently) of this assemblage? Regardless, science’s day of reckoning is at hand.  Hear me, now and stop huffing up at that statement.  I speak allegorically and yeah, science hates imprecision.  I call horse-apples: science does precisely what religion does.  Both systems exist non-secularly and use the same devices to reach their conclusions.  Like the≈the two extremes of the trajectory of a weightless bob that is suspended by a massive (tech.) rod moving about a point.

Arabesques ’round pivotal arcs of pendulous sways.

The parable of the parabola is parabolic::The parabola of the parable is parabolic.


 

Non-secular science at one pole.

{_[__(.PIVOTAL.)__]_}

 

Non-secular religious and spiritualists at one pole.


SECULAR::SECULAR 

 

SECULAR

ЯA⅂UƆƎƧ

non-SECULAR::NON-secular


 

About E-clip’sis/clips

VERBA ECLIPSATA INTENDE A DINSPIR

My Time Serving, Waiting, & Pouring

I worked as a part-time waitress, from age 18 until age 18.  I performed terribly.  Back then, in Alabama, servers made $2.13 + tips.

One week my manager approached me, with pen and red binder.

“Sign here, to confirm for our tax records that you did, in fact, make at least the minimum wage. You did not declare enough of your cash tips.”

“Um, but I did not make at least minimum wage, I made less.”

“Yep, you are not good at this.”

He was correct.


Sometime later, after losing the urge to continue to pursue Academia, I worked full-time for a locally-owned, Tavern-style restaurant as a server and cocktail waitress.  Not fine dining, but cloth napkins, gas burning lanterns. Upscale. The owners also owned a popular bar in the swanky part of Southside, Birmingham (The Five Points area, to be specific) where I poured occasionally.  Note: Servers still only make $2.13 an hour + tips in Alabama (and many other American states).  They really do work for themselves and you.

I loved my work.  I took the time to learn the restaurant/service craft: Learning the menu, how to talk to people and make suggestions.  The art of booze and talking booze.  Maintaining equilibrium for the dinner rush / bar push for about three intense, crazy, physical hours, only to then slowly break down the establishment into a clean, organized place. The next morning, you would build it up, try to keep equillibrium, tear it down.

Taking your work home usually meant alcohol, delicious food, or another server.  There was no huge deadline for the FOH staff, just closing time and the clean up.


All humans should really spend at least three months of their life as a server/waiter.  Everyone. If you get hissy or huffy about the service you receive when dining out, consider the following.


Today, I pulled an old journal and found the remarks below. Enjoy

EDR = extended dining room

AOA = auditory order acknowledged

Alabama Medium = Medium Well

FOH = front of house (what and who you see as the diner)

86 = something the restaurant has on menu but does not have currently.

68 = when something that was 86’ed becomes available to diners again.

20190323_1818076973480025465588655.jpg


Conversations Had On a Daily Basis

20190323_1824371266944147394456351.jpg

20190323_1826093238788944273811008.jpg


Stuff Said to Me: That Pissed Me Off Enough To Scrawl

20190323_1827589208760154888427630.jpg


Some Stuff I Thought Worth Telling the Good People

20190323_1832163972674961016230641.jpg20190323_1833194946651220808228980.jpg20190323_1833504745105038795513590.jpg20190323_183432556592428876165827.jpg20190323_1835046391342452912586479.jpg20190323_1835477333632773780563281.jpg20190323_1836145189911147651626318.jpg

 

Watch “Tom Petty- Wildflowers” on YouTube

https://youtu.be/ngYenAbgkr8

Going out to you know who…

Everone who can relate

[Title Here]

Being bereft of aberration is abhorrent,

In itself.

I am the whence of a will.

Wilt do.

Wilted

Camællias suddenly come into ripe blossom

Bloom.

I danced in blue light at least an hour that night.

I stumbled between songs.

I slip but don’t fall.

Felled the tree before the hanged.

And a fool found herself upside down,

A head full of clouds and reservoirs of water.

Camel-ist.

Hiding eyes

Laughter.

In the dark, a cardinal dances on his branch.

Like a Stellar’s Jay.

Sleep Paralysis

A peek of disbelief.

Reach.

Awaking in a white, linen dress.

“Let your feet breath in the water through your soles.” The old man suggests.

I break the liquid’s surface tension with the flat of my feet.

A four footed bath tub foutain with animals.

The water turns and becomes red curls.

And i reawoke.

But it took a minute to trust it was so.

Big left toe: wiggle.

Wiggle now.

You are awake and will wiggle.

Sleep paralysis.

Once gone, is when more civilized monkeys brew tea.

I make a strong pot of blonde

Coffee.

I wiggle the left big toe.

I wiggle the right big toe.

The pot boils.

The aroma cannot be a dream?

Too knight

Musicality of a whirling fan.

Lyricality of a faucet running.

Night songs.

Lullaby white noise.

A single dog bark.

An æon in a cat’s eye’s

Blinkin’

Winken & Nod

Set out one knight.

By only the light of three moons.

Pyres burning into the misty lake night.

Wooden ships of exposure espied from a tower.

Bring your three medallions.