Wood Grain

Veins of wood are deep and history sound.  Some yell, some are silent, some are distant and make an owl fowl sing.  It all is deep.  It all is resonant of a time that was not our own.

Something is percolating.  Something is vibrating, a shift that is low and so very slow.

Silence.

Still.

Grain of truth that can carry us on.

Make a night for us, ah ya for real, yet here we are feeling some shift that is nearer than a blush star.

I ache over my voice.  Messages are so uncomfortable, tight and exposed.  I ache over my message.

Yet, Grain of truth that can carry us on.

Honey, lovely, make me some funny the quest for humble pie still lives on.

I yearn to do it...seek to do it....move to do it....love my babes for it....

Grain of truth that can carry us on.

I feel in my goose bumps a shift be shifting.  Not sure if the shift is my own silent sifting but it is taking place and the world is in mid-pace for the world might feel slower, softer, fuller, pregnant in digest pause of where to pulsate.

I am my own wood grain.  I have veins spread to the reaches of unknown.
I
You
We hold wood grain: Grain of truth that can carry us on.

Blanket Movement

Up tonight, like many of worry sight of what will bring and what would sing if time would be allowed.

Nothing anymore is slow.
                                nap-filled
                                quiet
                                sheet calm.

When did we loose naps?  That nap-sacred space to contemplate earth shift and space, when?

What is happening to the thirst of our conscious seek for silent reflection?
                                                                                                  Eye contact
                                                                                                  Hand to hand
                                                                                                  Arm to arm
                                                                                                  Cheek to cheek
                                                                                                  Lip to healing lip?
What?

Blanket movement so she is draped lovingly on the teeth grind.
Earth move, but she move slow.
Can we not remember her so?

Turn off the appendages and be in silver slick how
                                                                       do I think now and know.

Instinct.
Instinct, Motha Lov'n Fuck'n Instinct.

Lets Blanket Movement and just sing INSTINCT.