Oct 17 2020


Streets lined with no bodies but still the sights of these street politic signs protest at my appreciation of nature. In my head cluttered i am for poor manipulation in street picket white america where everybody wants a tesla, hear them say no one can stop me now. Each body:big politic, small in portion to the endless. A bucket or body itself can only hold to a certain capacity; the one in recipient to God, the endless sea will overflow into itself the joys of water the body acting in love will attribute to the greater mass of water than its own self. From the endless sea each being revieces life, is a droplet even as small as dew drops speckling morning grass at the waterside of our eyes, i see stars put into the night grass reflecting light years away. That was last night when i visited Jyl and Barry, friends i’d find beside Kokopelli Pond and have that feeling of forever with and since ever. Today i’m at Peixoto Coffee while a parade of Biden Harris cars come by the downtown blading their car horns, screaming something joyful and obnoxious, a man lifts a trump sign from streetside, an american flag waves from a van’s side, a child walks by me as i write hearing him say “my daddy doesnt think the government should be your baby;daddy.” The parade’s continued incessant. A kid at the table beside me says to his friend laughing “i love it! No one in this country knows what the fuck is going on.” Truck labeled ‘peddler’s son’ slips into the sunset alley as a group of sign holders speaking viva trump walk out beside it. Man in blue glass shades has his hands on his hips, sways back and forth, side to side in the shade of a tree older than a single politic of today. Joy has no limit to age, no first time. Joy is always and ever in our hands, we choose to whom we give control. So we, american people, we gather ourselves at the comedy, the fear transformed to faith, the basic instructions before leaving earth, the illustrations of something to live for, lustrous as the purity of the present, we vote. 


We wish it were simpler, we wish we knew what it was, we wish it were simpler, more loving. The jade green haired woman walks out, excuse me’s herself to another sign holding the crowds holding signs, says to me i don’t know how you can focus out here. I’m writing about it, “Trying to figure out how i feel about it all.” We all are. She says, slipping back inside, me sipping a coffee that’s not black, an americano with a bit of oat milk. I tune back into the song playing. Don’t know this tune, could i prune my ears too to hear only the words playing i wonder what it’s like “to be loved by only you.”

With Love,