If it happens to me
it happens to you.
Nothing is true –
all is in essence.
Wield and all will yield.
Yield and you will see:
the knowing is becoming.



The snow is like the fire
in the final book.
What do we know
about truth and gold?
They’re cold
only when we try
to hold them in our hands.

I am a fire and I’ll light myself
in whatever ways work.
Like a snowflake I’m drifting
only to crash to earth in the end.
But then maybe my heart will melt.
It will condense and expand up to heaven.

I don’t know what alone really means.
Each piece of snow is individual yet it all ends up together.

Racing their Flags to the Ocean

Zap dang crock and then the pages fall off
for what is the true blue egg of the dragon going to do
when all around is full of mud not even worth listening to?
I don’t think it at all, it just happens.
You know what the outburst from friends in the city
said racing their flags to the ocean>
I do belong here
Embrace me and take me to London
To home
We’re always so everywhere
Are we not Frankensteins watching the outbursts
The whales with the dolphins
The funnels with the water
We’re a meaning to make it all better
The logic to make it all clearer.
Not clearer, it’s not.
It’s forgotten.
So tell me
Trying is brokenness.
Really and
It’s not even noon.
Calm down if it’s all about all your potential.
But if you want change
just let calm take control

No, that I guess doesn’t sound right.
You can be control,
So then don’t let them have it.
But no one’s control
You know
and then you have the answer.
I guess, but then who really knows.
Broken eggs won’t become mulch
If delicious.
No, that isn’t true.
You can’t know.