free association
finally,
it's 3am in the goddess morning, i am awake to tell the tale.
here before me
a black mug of chicory cream caramel cafe
from a cannister taking me to the Big Easy du Monde.
a video tape and the pile of notes are penned down by two lighters of blue and purple hues.
SPREAD -- a magazine...
(grey cat enters the scene, "Mamu??")
I cough and am convinced of the necessity to burn new magic
smoke and mirrors are out, Mary. let's see the steam.
boil the water before you temper the steel.
sacred metaphors... the train be gone, the bellows begins.
I MUST LEARN HOW TO BREATHE or i will die each day
do you rush around like I do all willy nilly forgetting that joy comes from living
and living comes from breathing and breathing comes from the heart's desire
I want to keep breathing, so why am I throwing soot into the bellows?
why fuel the fires with yesterday's ash?
(and where do I put those ashes? ah the compost beckons)
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, all laid out in a row.
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, all laid out in a row.
1, I am 1, I am 1, I am 1, I am 1.
I am beginning.
this is the first step.
this is what feels good.
this is what programming feels like.
this is the balanced equation.
two and two always makes a five
(that's how I responded to you, Ken, goodbye,
see you through the veil,
let's sing a hymn to Clare (du Lune))
because I am one to add it sooo...
well there were two lumps of sugar in that coffee, not honey.
I don't know who you are or anything about you, really, beyond the words written here.
But know that I love you.
I love you, too.
it's 3am in the goddess morning, i am awake to tell the tale.
here before me
a black mug of chicory cream caramel cafe
from a cannister taking me to the Big Easy du Monde.
a video tape and the pile of notes are penned down by two lighters of blue and purple hues.
SPREAD -- a magazine...
(grey cat enters the scene, "Mamu??")
I cough and am convinced of the necessity to burn new magic
smoke and mirrors are out, Mary. let's see the steam.
boil the water before you temper the steel.
sacred metaphors... the train be gone, the bellows begins.
I MUST LEARN HOW TO BREATHE or i will die each day
do you rush around like I do all willy nilly forgetting that joy comes from living
and living comes from breathing and breathing comes from the heart's desire
I want to keep breathing, so why am I throwing soot into the bellows?
why fuel the fires with yesterday's ash?
(and where do I put those ashes? ah the compost beckons)
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, all laid out in a row.
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, all laid out in a row.
1, I am 1, I am 1, I am 1, I am 1.
I am beginning.
this is the first step.
this is what feels good.
this is what programming feels like.
this is the balanced equation.
two and two always makes a five
(that's how I responded to you, Ken, goodbye,
see you through the veil,
let's sing a hymn to Clare (du Lune))
because I am one to add it sooo...
well there were two lumps of sugar in that coffee, not honey.
I don't know who you are or anything about you, really, beyond the words written here.
But know that I love you.
I love you, too.