SCHNOW...

It's gonna Schnow agin.

*

Sunday, February 20, 2005

*

My Shovel is ready.

But my boots are not Anti=Wet.

Thereyago^

*

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

along...

*

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^