Wet grass,
a dirty sidewalk, I pass with notice; sympathy for the moon, eagerness for the
sun, making it into halls and fame, dragging knuckles, unpaved, seeking belief.
Water mizzles, acidic washing, and windshield washers, and cruising to get
there on time. Lunch passed—by cosmic principle, merely ate grapes, sipped
juice, and walked gently; mountain high sentiments, amazed by what humans
become, in either direction, or somewhere in the middle. I breathe differently
than others; some gift, some curse, knowing nothing quite bothers them,
whereat, upon his soil, is inquiry, inventory, conscious of the self. The car
was filthy. To manage observations—to will power over elements—to live
according to one purpose. If sailing the land, pausing to see, palming earth
with birds singing, leaves rustling, by dewdrops dripping from exhaust pipes. The
skies are inquisitive, probing consciousness, by ocean and dolphin, by aqua
excellence.
