Back from mexico, yeah!

Soon I'll be in Mexico! yippee!

Tonight, I’m on my back.
I am hunting, (waiting)
shooting arrows straight up.

(I want to be this vulnerable with you.
My precedents, assertions, and man*nerisms
thrown off, just scattered piles clothes.)

Whoever they hit, these arrows only
strike and resonate
because they point towards home.

(We’ll follow them and quietly
walk new continents, whispering.)

But who’s guiding these winds carrying my arrows?

(I’m tracing each of their arching paths
in your palms to see which stars
I’m falling short of)

And If I didn’t believe in myself, could I be anything?

(and all those other maps I’ve charted?
.............Burn them.)

If the flute is clogged, no music can be played. When it is empty beautiful music can come through it.

If you try to hold your balance you will lose it. Balance is attained by reaching for it.

Through repetition the magic will be forced to rise!

and Freedom is a Psychokenetic skill!!

. . . .one (thing) I . . . . . . . . know
. . . .one (day) . I . . won't. . know
(any) one . . . . I . . . . . . . . (k)now.--

--And there are barns made as much of wood as blackberries and sky,
. .And. . . . . . . I have friends I haven't met yet.
. .And. . . . . . . I also want to mention maps
. .And. . (that). . I was only pretending.

. . . . But if . . . I had given you my hands,
. . . . you might have taken them
. . . . like fruit, felt their weight
. .and turned them over.

. . . . Alligator pears or figs.

. . . . Curled . . my fingers around a few of yours,
. .and nestled your thumb in the fork of each root knuckle,
. . . .like walking foot hills.