(no subject)
Clover
Focus. Focus, I say. I said. She dances around me like butterflies in the field. I see. I see, I said. Yes, it is a she I am talking about. Not just any she. The she. The she of all shes. She is the most graceful. Most most. Most of all, most. Not a sentence nor a rhythm nor a rhyme nor a rhymic rhyming sentence can forgive her. I wish I remembered where this came from. But I don’t. So I can’t. She means the world. She is the world. The world around us where she came. Around us means the she and I. But some other version of us came to surround us.
Clover+Bunny
No. They don’t know. They don’t know about CB. And we kept it that way. Nothing I was against. Nothing she was not not fond of. The she, mind you. Not just any she, but this is about we. About us. In a field of clovers, a bunny will lie waiting. We are the movie that we see. We exist in our own world. No one knows about us. Secret life? Perhaps. Perhaps the old man had something he knew when I wasn’t paying attention. Distraction because I wanted the world to know about us. Even though they won’t know it’s us. It’s us. It really is us.
BunnyandCloverConnection
Good morning. It’s the same thing as last night. It’s the same thing as before. Each and every day it grows without common understanding of why. We don’t question it. We let it grow. We let it go. Please don’t let it go. I told her last night that I would go to Hell and back for her. I will never let go. Not jack. This is it. This is me. One more tear and I’ll cry. I love you. I always have loved you. I have always loved you. No one understands. It’s all inside and internal eternally.
January 30, 2008