and wonder how you're a part of it,
and not apart from it?
i mean,
i do things, i make things, i say things-
and i do a lot of all of it, and often.
but that occurs within a mountain vale,
widely invisible from practically everywhere else,
and equally unnoticed by almost the entirety of right here.
yeah.
so really,
how much of it is indispensable, and how much of it is disposable?
none and all, in that order, neighbors.
i couldn't get by without active participation and competent communication,
but those things aren't gonna weave their way into a wider world of
worthy warrior poetry.
maybe,
just maybe,
the small sphere of woodsly goodness IS my entire sphere of influence.
that seems pretty small.
but,
probably, (and far more likely)
the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress, despite being a big ol' house,
marks the even more limited and constricted edge of rememberance,
and the beginnings of forgetting the hard works and soft spots of, and for,
my hard hands and harder styles....
yikes.
that's quite possibly why i write this, friends-
to refresh your memory.
i don't want t have to tell you to think of me,
but i want there to be something to think about if/when you do.
i make stuff and i show you,
i think stuff and i tell you,
i do stuff and i document it in real life,
for posterity far more than prosperity,
introspection and reflection on the value of intangible ideas is tough, guys.
i mean it.
and i'm applying the template i've learned to rely on.
uh-huh.
i just told y'all what is is.
alright, allow me to repeat it, one more time, with feeling:
just be dope, or F* right off.
that's all there is,
and everything else is suspect.
in fact,
i have a nagging suspicion that my nagging suspicions
are more like cultivated coincidences than insightful gut instincts.
i may be a werewolfen battle-beast when it comes to conversation and appetites,
but i'm too cold and calculating to apply rosy-colored lenses to my honey-colored eyes
when i'm looking into and seeing What Is.
do you follow?
no?
ok,
check it out:
see?
that's the way the secret universal plan works....
you can't tell what's gonna happen up ahead,
but there's still enough path visible to formulate some sort of plan
for the traveling that lies beyond this exact instant.
veering off path because there might not be as much road as you thought?
that seems like a bad idea.
slowing down, and looking closer might serve you much better, no?
yep.
i thought so too....
i'm barely moving a muscle, but i'm trying to see what's beyond the fog.
***********
word words words words words.
ugh.
the thing about november?
.....is that it sucks ALL the balls.
and what's more, it does a bad job of it every time.
as a result,
i find myself at a loss....
no. not for words.
never that.
just of whatever wasn't bad a little minute ago.
and, because tippity-tap and type the true story of spanning time
with the walls of a finite calendar page...
and it is FULL of words.
this is that time of year when the overlapping circles
of spirit and memory tend to show their seams,
and the lumps and bumps of those imperfect spheres
produce nothing but broken-record-style broken echoes,
repeating themselves, over and over,
except there's no refraining from the refrain,
and it doesn't fade away...
the next verse is the same as the first,
only a little bit louder, and a little bit worse.
ew.
november travels along a moebius strip with the most obvious taped-together joinery,
i see where it starts and ends, but i'm still rolling along the entire length of both sides,
and there's no splitting it back into a top and bottom.
so, i guess, really, it's pretty one sided after all.
real life continues to unfold, just within the eyeline of today.
and today is the day, just like every day;
never quiet, never soft.....
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