Longing and uncertainty in the face of another lump of mortal procreation.
Thankful for my attention being diverted, besieged and attacked from all sides, finding a good place to start.
Like a butterfly or a hummingbird I taste the nectar sipping sunshine.
The nobility of greatness, the radical avant garde, movements of language as the intermediary between conscious and unconscious.
It’s like a large composition, you see, one that contains related and obliquely related material.
The thread weaving me from experience to experience is invisible to me.
And there is nothing really blue in this representation.
Sunlight faintly green and golden in sea and sky.