guess he must be busy

friday the 16th..other numbers...its a great day in our household..Im in Phoenix...thinking about Han Solo flying over fleece white clouds, rippled softly in the cold sunlight of the high sky atmospher...redundant that, sky/atmosphere but still...what it was...woman asleep next to mee, mouth wide open, whacked into slumber by fatigue, rattling breath of deep sleep...extremely bad breath upon waking...not quite sour as 'decomposed'..beside her 'hair on one side' woman..and I think of the Indians below us, their beliefs..a set of wind turbines in a neat little patch..right at the top of the valley...oh the birds are trapped in it...looking as though the birds designed the spot it is in to catch the updraft of the turbine thrust and lift off for the further reaches of South America at times like this when most of the flocks are already on their way to Guatemala and points south..  in my backyard they stop for a bite on their way out from up North...goodbye till next spring they say...cranes staying behind to catch up on the reed weaving, nest building, tide coaxing...come this way little waters...I think about the Indian influence, earth keepers, what they do...the religious/philosophical outlay of their projections and that they did come here first from other worlds, not evolved into it as our legends would have us beheve..our evolutionary theories, what are they? darwinian sciences quite objectively involved to convolute a more intense history...but then, not my problem all that, I live near a reservation in the Pacific Northwest and what it relates to my subject this morning is that the water provides the earthen freshness needed to reconstitute the very old spirit of Han Solo the traveler of other worlds as a renegade from the overpowering sources of the Empire...did we have one of those?  well, there was the tobacco god and the wine god and we asked them please substitute grief for the places in our minds where you would build homes and when grief has sustained you past your welcome there take another road, and so far those spirits seem to listen...some of us need reborn, little solo is greatly sustained by his 'slept like a baby' encreaturing...and the grandson that represents him, another entity entirely, not unlike my own grafted children, whom I would hope are sustained by having been my own, forever after...there is a strange wind howling for the moment...it is phoenix, mesa actually, wherein I am contained by the lights of dawn and wonder wouldn't I rather fall back to sleep..I didn't bring a book, I miss my little white dog and my little brown dog but they'll be with me soon enough, I've missed my children so much that I've come to them for the holidays but this is what we do...disturb the song cycles of the Hopi just to give Solo a birth...but that wasn't what happened in the end...there came another in which the spirit walkers were disbursed by the old stick broom by my fire...off with you scary one, you like to be called scary because you find humor in our fear and we agree, absorb those memories, diviniations, elements that were animal that were contrived to manhood for the hour that they were, give them back to the sleep of night and walk no more where there can be life...but of course, if you would, join us there and we will show you through our eyes, the light, the dawn the new child..the full heart, the love of parents and where the baby starts, the fresh egg, the catalyst of the lightening bolt..and your ground will be our old fear because you will absorb it..we ask you go away into the freshness of our waking hour if you do not begin with us this day...and there's an amen to that..
it was a hard row to how..the solo entry..Mr. Muswanger..hehe