What I'm Saying is Nothing; is Something
<< 11:46 a.m. - Tuesday, Aug. 19, 2003 >>
I�m not all here. Forgive me. The pictures on my camera can�t give the story my own words can. But I haven�t the energy to sort out all the happenings with a daily planner in my hand.

Look here, sun doesn�t chose where it shines. Stop your hiding. Stop your creeping in the shadows of great Elms. Look up. Look up. Look up! There are green leaves that click and whisper when they touch and don�t you wish you had that too? Blue sky supercedes all. Part your hands from your eyes. Sliver fingers cover the face like sword ferns and we are there. Run in this luscious grass that leaves knees green and back itching. Swim in midnight rivers. Bathe in the sky. I am everywhere.

Rocks gather warmth and wait. Gathering gold. Moon�s bone white ice coats my night. I stand near their slumbering and stare absently. Cold blowing through pajamas and a dog running across pavement. And I�m walking without thinking, feet moving deftly and eyes wandering down the dawning night street. Cinnamon trident wrapper in my back pocket and chocolate wedged in my teeth.

What we share, what we chose to excerpt, I want to hear it. Tied inside my black book with unlocked reveries. Write what comes to mind, and we�ll talk.

There are doors that lock
And doors that don't

There are doors that let you in
And out
But never open
But they are trapdoors
That you can't come back from

Let me in, will you?