just me

leave me alone

crawl inside

hear nothing

no sound

no creak, no phone

leave me alone

block my head
make it white

or black

don't ask me 

to come back

don't talk to me

don't tick at me

leave me alone

put blue sky
and silence

in my head

make me hear
only the shhh 

in my head

I would like
that

Riding Away, Running Away

Incredible bike ride!  Words like incredible just fall off the fingers but I know I am alive on the early morning planet.  All senses are engaged.  I can see such brilliant color.  At 6:15 am the light is both eerie and calming.  By 7:15, the light intensifies the greens, the yellows, the purples of spring.  I swear they just leap out at me and stop me cold.  I seriously must stop and breathe in the colors, the fog, the filtered sunlight. There is a short section of the ride that is in a small valley where the hills and trees ooze greens, purples and shades of blue while the flat is littered with oranges, reds, yellows, and pinks.  I almost can't stand the beauty.  But it's not at all just what my eyes take in.  The fragrance of spring surprises me!  It is not a constant as I ride along but rather whispers in my nose from time to time.  And when it does, I see the colors too.  Double whammy!
The air is cold and my fingers a bit numb but then the hill work makes the hoodie feel too tight and too warm.  I have to frequently adjust the gears as I roll up and down and on the flats.  I can hear the knees scream a bit but I am used to ignoring them.  The abs are sucked in.  They ride better that way.  The right clavicle whines from time to time and I find myself releasing the right arm from the handlebars and holding my right hand close to the clavicle.  It's a way to take the pressure off the reach and to remind myself that the healing is not quite done.  This morning John Prine fills my ears too and I carry an illegal smile as I keep a head full of hope and a heart that's filled with wonder.  Oh my!  For a brief time I am in the moment, as they say.  I know what it means to be alive, to be joyful with the world, to have no fears or failures.  I have run away.

Moonbeam grin

To sparkle is to be alive.  To saunter with Ellie through the neighborhood, to feel a late afternoon spring breeze, to wrap my eyes around the greens and the purples, the  pinks and yellows, the oranges and the shine that are spring, this is to be alive.  To watch another person's eyes dance, to know that the room is  electric because people are connecting, to laugh, this is to be alive.  To paint walls on paper - rich, exciting, sharp walls - to feel their power is to feel alive.  Alive begets alive and the spark grows into a flame.  The dark cave of a life can find windows when the spark ignites the flame.  Sparkle lights up a cave.  Sparkle lights up a life.  That tiny moonbeam of a grin can become the sun that makes all the difference.

paint

paint falls off the fingers
black red
bars and rocks
rocks and bars bricks strong
stop the world
why? what good does stopping do?
make the paint real
make the paint
tough
make the paint me
paint cement
cement bricks
bricks that pull skin off
bricks that pinch fingers
bricks that hide
bricks that tear
bricks that are strong
will not allow entry
will scream will tear
will break
me

What would you observe if you were observing?

What would you observe if you were observing?
the green in the world
the green in my paint
the sad in my soul
the anger in my jaw
the good in my home
the fear in my mind
the despair in my imagination
the drama of it all
the ability to stop
the desire to write
the gotta get on with it attitude
the pain in the world
the emptiness of the house
the tick of the clock
the tear on my face
the salt in the tear
the go away in my mind
the walls on the paper
the wine in the glass
the sadness of the memory
the anger of connections
the desire to escape
the knowledge of friends
the pettiness of lovers
the kindness within
the calmness of perspective
the peace of wisdom
the peace of non attachment
the love of brothers and sister
the hope within
the promise of change
the beauty of spring
the leave me alone that works
the value of tears
the value of walls
the hope

Walls

Walls - I have been painting walls - I mean putting walls down on paper.  Putting brush to paint or sponge to paint and creating a strong wall -- filling every crack with heavy black brown red paint and sponging some texture for interest .  Adding a little blue or a little purple in for something eye catching.  The bricks are similar sized but not even steven neat and and tidy.  The foundation on each wall is dark, messy, bold, not to be shaken.  There are spikes at the top of each wall.  Strong walls.  Brick walls.  Walls that are rough to the touch.  That cannot be scaled.  There are no gates, no windows, no lock and key.  They will not fall.