Birthday Box for Birchwood

Good morning... 2 am ... in a bit of a funk here in burnt land. Posted a couple of fun comments for the escape value on Evolove's new stuff... i was inspired to get away from my funk, the energy went straight into it. now I am back stuck with myself, I feel sticky, and at great unease with this mess I have around me. The attention was high on you today, high like clouds. i felt a tiny bit left out... having to deal with impending doom/reality, maybe I was wreaking desperation. ~ now alone I think of you how your expressions colour you... and you, trying them on, you look so sweet. I am wowed by semi-serious sketches of your face, hinting of some virginity, dipping into shadings and pallette samples, you make your face bawdy and raucus and yet still an angel. Then bored or unconvinced, you erase it all like the blackboard. Tracing tickles with words teasing us and .... yourself. As I read you and hear you and imagine you, i see you wade tentaively through soft still waters cool, as they creep up your thighs. Some shock and chill you explore in movements, that dance and pause.... i bounce over the map from the jealous to the grateful ecstatic... Tonight these quiet moments alone afford a broader veiw of you and me and us to me, where i see from my helplessness to know any future. Helpless, but to desire anything except that which I know, shattered and tempted, to pray for power or wisdom, or courage.... Alone again here with my thoughts bobbing and drifting, you being there, being you... THAT flat out reality, unforced, undeniable, just challenges and inspires me so to trust things that might kill me... Moments of dread pay sudden visits uninvited and rude. Courage runs down my wrists into water in a darkness, that shrinks to suffocate me. I get frightened by my inabilty to not bleed it... You know ... i never pray on purpose but just now, i prayed for courage ... I always get silently handed a mirror. Nothing is ever said. Like my poems, my prayer floats as a hologram snapshot. All around me, I gaze into it from all directions. Logical holes filled with music and pleasures and a hundred species of laughters make a huge crowd sound. These holes look like mirrors. Laughters curled back on themselves in eddy pools, others breaking on fresh sands romantic. ...a few find an opening, splashing drops into the forevergone given. Gifted by that silence.... this silence near me here too, reminds me of it. Always, I end up in the same place, here. When you sit with the wind do you wonder things too? When your pretty skin wears off and fantastic laughters and afterglows fade and slip ... are you tempted to call out? i never EVER pray, but i prayyou some joy here in this stillness with me as you sleep and I dream ... just so, I can feel you like love tears in my heart for a while. I will sleep soon, But, I love this peace I have found now sitting here as i type. Please have some too. All that you can want in joy and tears. I am a box with a billion holes, nothing is all I can own and hold ... I am the same as everything i think. one more prayer for courage yes, and... thankyou so much for the mirror. I would like to post this on your birthday but this teary true self of mine finds this expression too big to carry... Happy birthday to you Sylvia, from my heart. I love you. Bill =8-] 4:30 AMHappy Birthday Syl I wrote this last night, started to write on her antisocial mood tune thread cause that was how I felt.... it just kept going...and became somehow beautiful... ... it happens that way. =8-] Written April 17th, 2002 © on Apr 17 2002 08:42 AM PST   0 • 8