It's gonna Schnow agin.
Sunday, February 20, 2005
My Shovel is ready.
But my boots are not Anti=Wet.
Grits & Eggs & Toast & STOOGES.
What else is there when the puxxle
is Perfect? [rhetorical]
it struck me again in Dremes that
i was remembering the future...
That i would grow to the points of
Time=Space which i had already
sewn or seen. They wake me when
i am not prepared for Rising!
But, then, i moka myself and travel
The showre comes Hot to my hair
and the schkrubbing washes Nothing
away; becos the Towel is cool and
extant on my fair skin, it conforms
no absolute dry=ness. Soft but not
gentle... A thin green eyeful of time.
I partake the Sun like a fulsome
companion---bright as bright when
bright, Shadowy and missing when
clouded by atmosphere. Snow!
The middle of the day is most messy.
No rest or resolution in it. Only a
pattern of procedures and posits.
Still~it has its own good place.
And evening arrives with slight
reclining @ last. Comforting as it
throws off the cares of Day...not
with finalism but with gladly
shuttered eyes. And Hope^
That near & nebulous nifty Night.
Encompassed by itself with more
Dremes of the future. Amorro!!
How rise me bettre 2 myself...?
i am the Time within my time and
no mistakes will trap me.
OR~potery like dat^