praying in the field

image credit IG @fiveforkfarms

Somewhere between July and now I went into the field,

It was a full one, harvest days were plenty, but I forgot by flower shears

I always seem to forget them,

and when I have them,

I forget the basket,

and then when I have the basket, 

I can never hold them both

and all this is metaphor

dear friend,

but would you know?

So without shears and a basket,

I've simply been praying in this field,

or was that laying?

horizontal and ostensibly taken over by trauma of past

and others.

well

I am awakening,

and perhaps it was prayer the whole time.

I never am quite sure,

but Au Revoir Simone

is jamming to that old popular tune,

and a candle is glimmering 

scents of cardamom and vetiver

and nobody ever knows what vetiver is 

anyways.

Someday between this type and the next

I am growing.

I may not be that heirloom dahlia,

I'm more textured, oh wait, that's like really textured.

Maybe i'm just a believer 

maybe it's just praying over and over and over with eyes shut and hands swaying

and body wrestling with the ground since the bed is too soft and it likes dirt in all crevices.

well

This might just be the pick-me up, pray to the heavens and I would suggest start

laughing

and 

keep

it flowing

Sometimes it all seems so easy

and the rest of the time,

horizontal

and 

plated,

we can just pretend 

we are laying on a bed full of colorful chrysanthemums 

and

maybe it wouldn't be a lie.

but I wonder,

"what steps can we take, 

to keep ourselves awake?

so easy to fall asleep,

so easy to be weak!"

Attention, Attention.

I WANT ATTENTION

It's coming in clear now,

this is a craving.

no surprise here

and yet...

It's all consuming,

and I'm starving myself 

so I won't feel it.

bing, bing

Radio show host

dancer

music video maker

improver

actress

karaoke lover

---

why does it feel like a whole other me?

Did i forget and then forget again?

---

no no,

eat something healthy.

And try to consume a little less density.

maybe then it will be inside me

and not in the head.

RAW.

i mean,

RAWR.

or...

it's still something new.

like sipping a pipa in the sun

It's like sipping a pipa in the sun, and although the words have been said, I find it still so refreshing.

Refresh and again it's me, but this time I have proof that I was on stolen ground.
She sings to me stories that crack open mine and our hearts melt as we recognize the union.
Surrender.

We've been through war.
We never enlisted.

It caught me in wide-eyed confusion, 'is it me? Is it me?'

No dear one, It is not.

So dip down to the coolness of the deep blue.
I bend head back and laugh at the sky since in truth it is all perfect, and in truth i know it as pure.

And then little delights are peeping through now.

splendid day dreaming of an old love coming back into my life, opening to this new chapter, saying, 'wait, we missed each other before, but no, not this time, this time I want YOU'.

And I cried when you said you wished it could have been.

me too, me too.

But now I am stronger,
now I can say my truths.
Now I know sacred bounderies and I won't fuck this one up.

I want honesty.
I want fun.

We used to giggle with each other and you always made me laugh.

I'm intrigued and excited to have you back in my life, and I don't know why it is happening, I doubt you do either, but under the full moon in the venerable heat of the southern winds, our bodies will know.

Something to this tune: and I don't want to grow up, but maybe if I did, I'd want it to be full of laughs with you and sipping pipas till the sun sets.