the sun will not prove itself evil. it is fire untamed. and fire was born only to burn. i want to wake up in the early hours and believe. i want beyond what it is to breathe. i want to see you walking quietly across the silent floor. tip toes arranged in small graceful patterns of adorable concern. i want tea. dried leaves from the humble dirt. made for two at least. break the shades and smolder. golden spears from the great sky. i want to sip it slowly. i want to behave like a rock and roll freak on the verge of madness. to throw each machine from the balcony and scream.

what if tiny little beings began building miniature metropolises on
your body. multiplying into millions. sticking structures into your
skin. painting you with pavement. posting signs and sins. drawing
lines to trap themselves within. trash that's spit into the sky until
it sinks and spills again. what if they laid freeways connecting
like strange exterior veins? littered them with modern machines.
meant to translate the pending pain. turned the ride into a race and
pushed it till it went insane. would you sit serene and still beneath?

the sunlight out west is tangible.
i can taste it on my skin.
i can feel it in my breathing.
golden shimmering in and out feeling.
i wake up craving it like company.
we are never all alone.
we are always lost and lonely.
we will be the waves uncrashing.
we will be the sea.
we will be the never-ending rhythm
that our hearts pressed-perfect beat.
silently.
screaming only in our senses.
burning underneath.
the brilliant fire-storms that sweep our veins clean.
if love is a drug it should be recommended twice daily.
or directed as desired.

my television set screams the troubles of the times. paying vague attention through the filters of my mind, words like "go hungry" and "crashing economy" and "turn for the worst" stab through like a blade in perfect clarity. it is strange for me to hear this with eyes locked in the other direction, lost in the patterns of the leaves. im going to change my machines and listen to music instead. im drinking tea from china. who knew the desperation of a race could disintegrate into the sipping of a simple drink. i am an old soul circulating.

i am a mile high. i am as high as a mile would be if it were laid on end facing the sky. denver colorado is a glorious bowl of lights and crystal air. we drove here all the way from iowa yesterday.twelve hours across the prairie flat endlessness of western iowa and into the great vast void of nebraska. i should say though that iowa is not flat, but charmingly rolling. waves made out of grain. golden green and rolling. we stopped in des moines for lunch and other than that it was simply gasoline until the mountain line.there is no reason to let up when making that trek.

10.20.08. at this point my soul has become so scattered that i must realize only
through these simple motions of writing what i am and where in the great void i might
even be....we are back in the midwest, it seems. somewhere in indiana. we've
had some absurdly late nights and early mornings to follow. and i may be alive but not
on the level i have always been before. the air has finally become a million delicious tiny
blades and when she swirls she slices my skin. there is no kaleidoscopic brilliance