Je ne m’attends à rien
et pourtant
à chaque fois
je souris
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Je ne m’attends à rien
et pourtant
à chaque fois
je souris
this painting of pink flowers
must be my inner clock anticipation
as spring feels near.
ce n’est pas le camping,
ce n’est pas le feu ni la musique ou l’ensemble,
et en plus c’est l’hiver,
mais quand meme,
c’est dans la chaleur de le maison que la fleur blanche grandie.
i was sitting in my apartment dreaming up a scene and in this daydream I was at a bar and there were people sitting at a booth laughing and drinking and having what i assumed was a good time and there was a guy at a stand up table drinking from a pitcher of pabst and he was explaining roman history to a bunch of what i guess were young college students, hungry for knowledge and an answer to all their identity questions and in my day dream or night day dream since it was past 8pm, the bartender told me to not worry, that it would happen tomorrow and when i asked what would happen, he said « you’ll hear » and sure enough, the next morning a dog’s nasty mean bark woke me up, almost an hour before my obnoxious alarm clock was gonna do the same thing. i didn’t…
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After many months of naked branches and snow,
all seemed dead and then,
this happened….
i tried that old meditation,
breathe in, breathe out,
called to our caveman ancestors
and later that day,
rocks were a glow,
my insides felt the heat