i am very very small relative to the hull of the Bindaree
the Port is clearly made for giants who enjoy gnashing their teeth and chomping on metal beams
a seagull tells me to hang tight..avast! tomorrow we cast off!
chest rises and falls with breath
sand drifts and plumes over path
waters ebb (and still i await the lifting of anchor)
Esterio Segura in the Museum of Latin American Art, Long Beach
reminded me that we can be Moving the Sky with Our Soul
Love is (over and above through and despite the inane attack chatter, the delusional peacocking and the back pedalling stumble defence)
i gave l.a. one more day of walking.
not a trail of tears, a valley of ashes nor a string of broken hearts were found.
rather, complex-textural co-inspirers and many-glistening thread-weavers are to be remembered.
the port, just over the bridge
how quickly it progressed from fresh
to uncanny (without unsettling)
..!timing!incredible! gladness abounds and bounds!
thank you for being explicit about that which is disposable, mere baggage..
..not wanted on the voyage.
Again enjoy feeling the sight of: painted ferris wheel, knee high school dress, open hooded red car
biking here to stand (still as shadows lengthened) poetically and provocatively,
then getting on the mic in Da Poetry Lounge
followed by a midnight website glitch.. are my only excuses for not logging a post yesterday
phew! you sure are bike-able thanks to your kitchen (recommended!)
ante up with organizing and inspiring
gearing down into freedom of motion and notion
shadowy crosshatching of palm catches eye after i stumble on bulging root cracked concrete
earlier, we agreed it was generous of the tree to offer itself for backlighting in such a way
finally, it was the perfect globes of light suspended from branches across from and matching the moon that arrested me