S.B.T. 323

kinematic questions

how can i deliquesce of myself?

what ransacked rubble translates to unsling what is prejudged to be?

am i missing? the portal to cascade books?

the counter to crouch morroccan-style at a declassified table?

(what's my sabbatical for backstroking to defend my ness and garnished habits?

if it's to carry better, will it codify algorithmic klaxons to habilitate love?

am i on a horizon of circumnavigating carouses or of magnetizing furls?

institutionalizing a concensusing job

reenforced out of a fungicidal relationship?)

do i solicitate oklahoman or the mustang that gallup with success?

could i resound hypersexual as an adventure?

if i was on a waul of hardening urina or of defrocking menaces

in order to haggle better, will it feel troutier with hebrew to budge?

which mistimed token label from repopulating scoops of the past

is the shaker (or obstacle) exhibiting?

if so, which sensitivity will i list it in this time?

when i'm instigated to tether the godhood track,

what nuthatch do i trot to myself,

or macaw with the snoutier plan?

how can i recontract in savours?

ask a baiter to be a typhoon buddy? join an overstaying club?

what am i bushelling in my elder thats gravitating letting twist weal with miaou?

what batchers of telly should i disregard to haft whole?

if u r shoed be happy?

one mans tree

S.B.T. 322

has the stolen angel been found?

i have a website, not www tho accessible from www, not searchable cuz its just not because its not www - its there nonetheless, at dot mac which is a separate universe with images of my artwork by invitation only, which i know incrementally can leach out nonetheless it affords a thin shield of intelligenuflect protection as it is reworked and aimed at targets often enough...

there, is an angel, this angel

..................................................v

backstep one moment

i designed a logo/banner for a healing arts website. a lightworker sic, heart point,

etc

ok maybe i'm too picky

but the theory goes that the energy you put out attracts like energy. thats a theme across the nonboard.

i immediately realized it was me. and i stole something. once. a long time ago, after school, age 12. a tiny bottle of 'evening in paris' perfume. which i stared at in my hand, opened it and sniffed and finally headdown feet of brick went and returned it because just looking at it made me feel sick. and it didnt smell that great either. pathetic, eh but thats how i was trained early on. i wasnt threatened with lakes of fire or anything, just the idea that you have to live with yourself if you knowingly do something that isnt 'good'. on any level stealing was not 'good'. no excuses. its just not good, get it? basic. sure sure mitigating circumstances, however, still not good. and if you dont care about good then join the narciss sissy isms on parade and get outta my face i have a job to do - uh thats probably not good either

back to the logo banner design. upon completion my benefactor suggested adding a link to my private website. hmmmm i thought ok, probably not likely to start a stampede thru the link, and maybe, it will bring business ok i'll try it. ok i said.

admittedly it ran thru my mind that the people who gather as lightworkers wont be thieves, not likely they will misuse, and they'd like some of the work no doubt. because these are lightbeings after all. however i learned backwards that they may be a target market...

in a phone chat my benefactor asked if i'd been contacted by the angel lightworker named L. no, i said, who is L? well, shes an angel practitioner who went to the link and liked your angel and was able to download it and put it on her website. i told her she needed to ask your permission and gave her your contact info. "she stole my angel?" i gasped, thinking of evening in paris and karma, but i brought the perfume back i realized so it isnt me. aha! the other night i put a coupon for one dollar twenty five on some cat food and it minused twelve dollars and sixtynine cents! did i run to the store manager? no, i was doing the selfcheckout. aha! small bad things. she stole my angel.

all right, its bigger than twelve dollars and sixtynine cents. the angel is worth a lot more. but it doesnt matter. small bads weigh the same as large ones.

nonetheless i fumed and demanded the perpetrators address. which my benefactor didnt have on hand ahem. perhaps its a "thank god for unanswered prayers" thing. perhaps its a conspiracy. perhaps my benefactor and L are manufacturing my angel on lampshades in taiwan. because ten years ago i worked for a company that manufactured offshore a serious patriotic no-no!

but still well-matched by copyright infringement. sigh.

footnote: credit for the source of the stolen angel, L. banishment otherwise

in the meantime, i'll be writing a story

S.B.T. 321

"if i had a hammer, i'd hammer in the mo or ning"

hurry if there is something you can do

"...when the lord gets ready, you gotta move"

the song of the morning presses in

fog over the chugging tugboat outspirational

serpentine red flags above the coach twisting twirling

diffused in light, dissolution glow

warbling crickets

beginning with the most flagrant selftalk

and ending with sword in stone concrete memories

these words spill into silence

the churbling of a thrush and skycall of

canadian geese

S.B.T. 320

in the sand

close touch all calm

beating endless ness

little body upright

walking in the sand

no cloud can stir

this changelessness

blank sheer clear

dream the passing

hour of figment light

that never was always is

all gone from mind

on all sides of earth and

sky at long last issueless

all sides endless true refuge

scattered down four walls

over backwards no sound

sandwalk

S.B.T. 319

two mnutes

for a good laugh, go here

S.B.T. 318

the dark side

the forthrising field was preplanned at the same time a secret sect was investigating synapse control, and small children were dreaming of typewriters, a serious typewriter with a tv screen attached. more like a tv box with a typewriter soldered at the front. you could type in someone's name and immediately see what they were doing, even if they were asleep. it was fascinating.

it was somehow disney-related too.

in the decades that followed events played out that prepared the ground for an avalanche of fertilizer that was spread over the field, a specially formulated electrocompost. reflections of associated foreboding found an outlet in the gutsy metalplastics and tiny l e d's scattering seeds.

there was a time oprah had an "a new earth" massive teleconference, and millions of people talked about feeling "the shift". that is the name of a new dance, btw. called "the shift".

can be done with a hula hoop, optional. starry-eyed,

full of love brimming, satiated, waking to a dawning full of pink light,

those are among the steps. we were waiting for the music.

and waiting.

so we made our own, working was better than tapping our fingers. and it was instant delayed gratification. and flowers blooming all over again. shift or no shift. and all of the highlights of the last four decades displayed randomly on a conveyor belt, a giant palette. upon which you can dip your brush into any color, you can paint one day on newsprint and toss it out the next day. you can pick one tweed jacket off of the hanger and brush the lint off the shoulder. it can take all day to repaint the weave ha ha. by evening you have the jacket on and now are shining your shoes. there is nothing insignificant, there's just not enough space. being happy doesnt always mean feeling that way.

so today the grandson of a portuguese fisherman's wife, a man so girded he can balance a piano on his pointing finger, came and carried away the old sofa and living room chair. i was glad to see them go, they were completely chewed up. space, ah. a futon, neat and trim, moved in, along with a simple folding saucer chair of magenta pink cushioning. i am ready for the storm.

S.B.T. 317

click on pic see the bee

where were we.....

rose-of-sharon.....

under the empire sun.....

touching heavens edge.....

dream in the wake.....

of arising moments.....

according to phenomena.....

gestures and sign language.....

emembrances r hidden.....

in time they may reveal.....

why i chose not to awaken.....

this very moment.....

might then be even.....

more lovely than trumpets.....

lustrous and fleeting.....