11 28 20
Love on. Lipping a cappuccino in a snowy flag cafe, grandiose dreams, valed and canyoned in my mind. Had traveled up and down the rocky ridges of the grand canyon, making cannon faces from felled blue shadows the mountainous layers laid. I’m a painter i told Sofiya and Anna, they’re European i suppose; anna is beautiful with lips to match her glamour, sofiya’s spirited, so soulful. I draw them both and anna jokes shes my russian girl i paint. I read them fictional realities from my notebook, a piece about a purple lily pad and colors of my internal landscape. We look into the deep colors, green shrubs, red rocks, blue skies and shadows, yellow lands. I listen in as spirits soar through the forests we, my brother and i, we drive in sunset light through icy snow soaring roads. Lights flash and figures pass.
I am reminded the love God fashions in all creation, being the vessel filled in grace. Bestowing in our experience a sense of God-with in all of nature. In the birds singing, trees swaying, wind speaking; in the growth, the death, the going on of life ever. I am swooned in the long shadows playing at my perception, instilling a sense of trepidation, not withholding a color, the fearlessness of sunset. The moon rises in fullness, a blessing in the late freezes of evening. A frieze decorating the laurel leaf trees, scattered symbols and shapes in the trees. Little hills all white with snow on the side not facing the sun, blackened on their sun beat back. Blues in the wood chips and broken branches, bones of these forest trees. We walk the magical, the enchanted forest, fairies sway in the shuffled wheat grass fluff, caught in rays of light, snow crunches beneath our feet, im up in the woods and i am lost in my mind. Standing beside the beatitudes of spirit in a company of deer and elk. King of the forest, webbed in a spectacular array of incandescent apparition. Seeming low sleep has fed my soul, satiated my desires, sunk my body in a stupid drowse, silly hallucination. Humanity is in the moons face, forged in the light, i admire nature, all the love alive, living in through trees, birds, foreign women, mountains, shadows and light, my brother, myself, my forest sleep in moonlight.
I am very interested in being in my own thoughts. As the night grows deeper, as does my abstractions. Im comfortable in loose overtures, overturning the keys only i have to locks only i know – i unlearn everything, an infant unleashed by universal motif. Merry go rounding my constellations, contemplating greater loves of our people, wishing upon a whistling bird, methodical to unhinge the sky from land, i enter the chamber of light.
Just us is all i am. Alive and well; and well, if it were not for the words and colors and sounds i do not know how id flow through these feelings i unlock. I write and i write.
God is Love.