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Filed under: Mind, Poems, Robert Fripp, Words, sounds | Tags: consumerism, dark matter, death, gravity, King Crimson, memory, Mental Health, night, Pain, portrait, Solar System, trophallaxis, Uncategorized, Words
Filed under: Poems, Words, jon hassell, sounds, trophallaxis | Tags: death, Dream time, earth, fish, flamingo, night, photo, poetry, taste, trophallaxis, Words
outside
there is a stone
the color of the evening sky
it disappears into the night
as the sound of rain
stretches into the future
a bird
a heron is fishing for his dinner
seeing through reflections
brighter than he is
for that sustaining pulse
the heartbeat
that feeds the stomach
the surgeon of the night sky
restores dead things
with the power of sound
A tale of green and purple
of growth and decay
pulsing and turning in darkness
becoming all that is
transforming into dust
the heart’s yearnings
stormy movements of heaven and earth
touching all too briefly
a flash of light
a drop of water
and then a season of ice
we forget …
With hands most guided, seldom letting go
seldom with abandon to the other
We rarely visited
that place in-between where there is neither me nor you
where some other light shines through
and bathes us in its glow
That is where it wanted us to go.
