the rain

it pours rain..it totally pours rain, and here we are, without recourse to its coming into the house, and so it is,, we shall maintain, however best we can..fear omits the obvious (causal to that fact..) and..yes, I love you dears..as much as I can in the weather as it is..throw it out and it will come back to you better than it was..for whatever reason, here is where we are..best of the night and more so..your maman'

the sun is out and it's just a few days before christmas

ok, so having done that, the rest of it swallowed a fish hook and stayed on the page in Word instead of being plastered onto this blog..as a mused bit of writing..slowly getting over the Hosseini stories of domestic and polical abuse...how rats like Rasheed can be allowed to exist in any world..anywhere
I guess they could be a story...could be a story...could be a story
writing as though I'd gotten a new sheet of Schubert..
I can't master any of that, but if I only had a routine...and then I'd worry along would come Prince Charming and integrate himself into it...don't miss the burly logger, enjoy the fact there's no pain..
well, just a tiny bug compared to all that I suppose
the other lady in the little gas station paying for something in a new car
she's had the same one for years..and it's been parked at his house for a while now
and now..while he tells me it's over and he's done, she's still there being large and in charge
and letting me hear her say that he wants her in Forks and she's going to get dinner..stuff to make dinner
so she's probably not hanging out with him, although he seems to think that is the case
according to what she says
according to that, and it was my observation one wouldn't bring an accordian to a prison..
 asit would be inappropriate
but one could certainly bring an electric piano to my house
I should think..and that'd be the case as well..burp...my meaning
one doesn't bring up the fact one's dogs have been doing their business along the way to the post office
 because the one has something going on that makes its feces kind of toxic, so that gets scraped up into neat little piles for the more purgative receptacle..
not my fun and games but it must be done..the one, the white one has injury somehow, never got over sitting on a dead mother...still trying to scratch that thought away
I do miss riding harleys in the mountains..and I guess 'he' thought that was fun...
a splendid memory
well..as I was saying 'she' has a big new car...I don't have my firewood...she's all about owning him...
and I don't know nothing because man, my rib hurts still...I could barely stand for him to touch me..is what
he smelled bad, the rolls of flesh at his lower belly where it meets the thigh..oh yeah and the roll of quarters syndrome about keep touching this to make sure it's really dead..
is how that goes..creepy
so why would I even bother/ it's all I've got at the moment and there are moments ofit that are pleasant
otherwise...not so...streetsweeper going by up the sideroad...brushing hog..cat up a pole instantaneously...as...bridie alights and sweftly swoops away..all along the boulevards of this little village..the gravel is being swept..I should take some turf from the fella scross the street, they ploughd it up a bit and make it roughly a taxiedermist's 'thaw'..whatever I mean by that..and there she isnow running it into the ground that she's in a new car and he didn't bring me firewood...
well..I'm not bitching, the christmas music is on..I need to call family and seewhat the plan is..really gobbling the garavel is that machine..we'll see if it gets clean..the christmas carol as we enter into the holiness of the season, when crhist was born...when we first learned to think about him..there's where I feel holy and the other part, that must be the north koreans bringing in the fishers..and then there's this guy at neah bay whom I'd much rather be with..but that'slike that sacred christmas carol..you'd have to marry the guy and you have a really stiff neck to v e thinking about that right now...yeah
I guess that's happened so this work thing is like a big can of sour tuna waiting to be drilled up for the cats..
there's some damon runyon on the side
gloria ...gloria.. angels we have heard on high..
with sons and daughters and cars and so on..
I doubt I really have lost my connection with Georgia and Lou Diamon..see there's the belligassi thing..
all shaped up with ringlets of golden feasted by the light.
well, it's like a jail yah, where I worked for such a long time and there was a guaranteed income then
not these reduced circumstances...oh perhaps I played itout like a cat on a wire..
fussing and fuming and writing up the stalinist accounts of the take over of kiev...you can't be from the Ukraine in these days...you just can't
youhave to be a cat..
so there's the coo

just in today...filets

I'dh ave to say, as things go, this was a good one.  I wouldn't elaborate on it much, but I did sit by in view of actually directly behind..the one..well, it's difficult isn't it, to deliniate things like this, matters of the heart and all..when for the last week my own has been crunching me like it's slowly cracking because pony boy has developed his mate again and I'm just going to sit on the sidelines and go eh, good luck to him...aren't I?
I wrote a story about it once, how I fantasized muskulls was going to come into my make believe world and just be there for me, the little orphan girl in the warm h ouse, nahh...it didn't work, that story, but this one, this has the other aspects, the cookies just out of the oven while he's off shore catching something and calls in "when the cookies ready hun?" and I say, "first batch coming out now" and he says he'll be there directly...
is he? 
he kidded me today about wanting him to take off all his clothes "I bet you'd like that" the sum of our conversations being point A and point B over the years since I've been back home here on the edge of the sea and watching it rain...I won't say how old I am but I'm getting there and I bet it doesn't really matter either but he had his grandson with him...little tan boy like him, He looks to be Navaho(j)..and I'm a bennigazzna or however you term it..we'd understand one another because I'm not even really from this planet, right? and his forebears the anasazi...well, they were the welcomers for people like myself, with the mysterious cornflower blue eyes that are mostly yellow..well..can I say with a full heart finally what happened today? 
I know it's not going anywhere, it never has, not even the first sight of him way long ago, '86, '85...he was with a woman then, it was a crowded restaurant here at home, there was a roomful of people and he was at one end and I the other and looke dhis way and went hmm...looks like ol Charlie Parker returned from the grave (or Gerald)...and it wasn't and I went on with my monastic life raising my children alone but he was always on the periphery of it in one way or another, the most uncomfortable part of it being that he looks so much like my father and he slept with my folks' neighbor, gingin..who was my friend in those days and I got the blow by blow...how it went and how it didn't went because she's rather a flake, truth be told, she complains to the powers that be about planes buzzing her house and such (mmhmm, extraterrestrial sightings at GP daily I suppose) meanwhile, there he is in front of me today..right in front of me, plops down like he owns the place, mostly likely he's the one in charge of more than a few things and he's not in his usual business suit and Florsheims pounding the pavement at Microsoft or the BIA...ah, the BIA
I'm not a First person...well, if I am it is a bastard version of it and there's no talking about that because anyone who knows has passed on and the rest of them are too good to say so..but it would be Iriquois, I just know it, though I have an auntie on my mother's side who is from the Northeast and they said she was French because it wouldn't do to say she was anything else...that kind of thing...you can't own up to your heritage because it's been sold down the river to colonize the new worlds we will discover in the time to come (one hopes) but there it is
lightening bolts all around us..he's wearing a daffy duck yellow sleeveless tee shirt, I remember every word of our very short conversation it was very short and I want to give the whole experience to my father, who's been deceased since '06 but I can't do that, not this time, what I remember most solidly as I was warned off this guy every time I mentioned him to the 'one who keeps my animal in its nest'...'you don't want to do THAT' meaning that the neighbor's labrador retriever might be more sympathetic to my human emotional needs, i.e., he's physically abusive big time...so they say...and at this point I feel so wrinkled up and crunched and starched and hung out to dry and what..a great golden butterfly flew over the car as I crossed the river coming home..that's what I feel having sat with him for a short while...there's a dance tonight, wouldn't that be wonderful to get to go to it with im and we'd do like me and Charlie did in high school, dance ourh earts out...all evening long...but with hi9m it's have to be more than just dancing, we'd go to his place, I'd look around and wonder about how clean the sheets were well, am I going to get bedbugs here? maybve at my house with th e two dogs there'sd be more chance of something out of perspective...gosh I'm feeling tired and slelepy now and a little teary eyed as if there were nothing left in the world but finally getting to settle with someone one has had a crush on for what? how long?  too long..one didn't even know it in the beginning but one saw that person in a crowqded room and went..who's that?  well, I guess even then they told me to 'stay away from that guy' like he was the Big Bad Wolf or something...and I didn't ever know how Jim Chee managed to stay happy in the Hillerman books but there's his heada nd his hair on this guys skull and you can wallpaper the rest of it to be real, I should think...well that's how it goes...not resigned, not unhappy, maybe deleriously joyous about touching his back and remembering the rocking in the waves of the boat what a great sail...that was before and what is now...you just  have to be chin ups on these things and feel very vulnerable and helpless, you can't just declare to the guy, hey baby, I have  crush on you...what? you didn't dress up make yourself pretty for me?  well I did, I'm always thinking those things, that's what women do isn't it? but I chewed on my chipped naill polish and regretted everything I was wearing like it was for chopping wood in, clothingh for chopping wood in, I have decent clothes but I never seem to be wearing t hem and he looked great, I could deal with my age and my place in life if there someone like him in it...but it's not the little girl having a crush on her daddy to me that makes me not pursue this, nope, it's the vulnerable, available woman who's just been told by the closet sugar daddy of  seven years (or more)...that once again, the man in the relationship i9s going back to his 'wife'...as was the case in the previous set up...which was another earthquake, almost enough to engage the army but I discovered I had a Russell Crowe fetish going on, so I lived within that and didn't get terribly close with the Brosnan/Churchill..Sting...clone of what I had to be intimate with forthis time...this guy, the fisherman...well he was a part of it too, h ow it 'got to me' and now he's sitting in front of me while we watach the native dancers, the children, I saw the children dancing today..they were doing that and his grandson was with him...and that too...that's like probably what I determined from how he arrived...one of the twins was with him...daughter of a twin, grew up with our St. Thomas set on the edges of it birthdays and so forth, now has dark hair always saw the two girls as little Afghanis their eyes a lot like mine, wildfire at the heart...so she's with the Fisherman today..they come in together, I guess it's his latest cruise maybe that's what it is...probably, he's graying, I'm wrinkling the twin is maybe thirty maybe needs a dose maybe working on a kid with im, I dunno...hope I don't sound sad, he's coming in like he delivered the latest option to the FCC on a computer thing...him and her...and I'm putting my hand on his back when he teases me about me wanting to see him take his clothes off...I guess me and the fileted salmon I picked up later that afternoon have got a few more things in common than the fact one of us lives in a liquid environment and the other is planted on the moon for sure in terms of valid equal relationships with the opposite sex...mines the YIN...his is the YANG...what we have between us is the WATTTT??? wait/what/wet/worry/wonder/willing/wooden/wooed...wishing well...I'm well...I'm probably a little hormonal...who wouldn't be? I'll be sixty three in a few days and I look like I'm seventeen, that's what 3 mile island will do for you if you were downwind...but I never seen what I really look like and how DUMB isthat? that that matters...when really, it's all about the desire to put a batch of cookies in the oven and call him out at sea and say if you want them hot get in here by the half hour they'll be delicious...and hecomes...that's one of my first stories from here...and she met him on the beach in that one, he was there and she was coming up from the other end and they met one another where the agates are...and he fished and she stayed at home and there were kids from other relationships and it was all very good and she took in some more kids and he married her and well...it wasn't your potboiler magazine novelette romance but it seemed like he became that character to me...that was him for reals...and I don't know what I'm on about other than I kind of feel like that poached salmon, the one the fish cop gave us elders because he's able to pass out the goods that are not legal to the catcher...there it is, the catcher in the rye...that's this whole thing the whole angle on it...what Salinger was trying to say...you feel like the filet o'fish because for years you've kept this little secret part for yourself and there it comes again like right up on the other side of the window you're looking at it and you know you need to wash your hair and make your bed first...and he'd bash your teeth in at some point when you looked at him crosseyed?  so they say...
at t his point you'd feel as though it wouldn't matter if he did, you don't even want to hope that you'd matter next to the twin...
so in the other blog I'll have to write a poem because I have 19 minutes left and there's more to say...a conclusion maybe...

blue tunes, the new blog

I was on an ambulance call th is morning..hard at work on a crocheted blanket for little Moses Ezekiel the radio at my waist went off.  I had to quickly put my yards in the basket and drive back to Clallam Bay.  Of course I got stuck behind the only log truck that goes the speed limit so I was hurry to get to the ambulance when I got to the firehall.  Once on board I put on the requisite rubber gloves and stowed the crocheting behind the seat.  There were two other licensed EMTs on board and another student, Sean, who was driving.  He had come in bermudas.  He's an alright guy but this day was not on duty, he's a deputy police officer for Port Angeles.  He's always been polite and so on...it's funny, when I get on the rig with the EMTs all their bile ducts shut down and its not really business as per usual but how much crap can come out their mouth instead of be processed through their kidneys.  You'd think I'd get used to it but no, it still happens.  I took a couple months off just to see if I could stomach the flak, I don't see any difference.  Now you gotta code in to get the door open at the Forks General too, which is new but since I've given up tobacco, I don't have a need to loiter outdoors and was busy to get the floor in the rig washed while the licensed EMTs were taking our patient into the ER.  I was wearing my uniform all day today and still have it on.  I'll have to think of h ow to  get Sean's kidney to process, he was exiting the john when we were back at the station.  He's on good terms with the other fellows we were riding with, funny how I've never felt a part of that gang.  I think it's because the old neighborhood is haunting me, that and Picasso's macros are complicated and compromised...like what does Picasso have to do with this picture?  one might ask, being as I started this off saying I was with the painter's circle and the alarm went off to respond to a call...Picasso...not a particular muse of mine rather as industrious as I he is...and you sh ould see my house at the moment.l..oh this is the computer with the skippy keyboard...Picasso mouse has been sitting next to me...DOS get to screech..?  this is an evening for juggling obligations..EMT reclass, Lions, Sunsets West...make some chow for Lions..right now...falling asleep but need a run to the library to change out movies and guess what?  there's class tonight...well...obligations...and you sh ould see my house...whoa...it's like worse than ever it was in terms of did you get around to washing that plate blues...
but
I was going to make a new blog, bluetunes...for when I want to be crabby about how I'm treated...tree dead?   eh...it happens wherever I go, I got an earful from KCow..I didn't like how you told me all prissy and high and mighty that I must move the dresser...she basically told me to my face that I was an arse..and I really don't remember how I said that to her but I'm sure I wouldn't have talked to her in that tone of voice, so then again I get scolded by the one whom I help...Georgia...I guess I haven't added the cameraman to that equation and I should...but then again...well...it's complicated so BlueTunes would be a better place to analyze and discern the causal relations therein...
and so..I had totally forgotten there was class tonight, hehe...I guess that settles that
not all peaceful and light but was on the beach and the sun shone and there were agates  found and the water so clear and the air cold but clean, so clean..drove the accord which really is a piece of crap but it goes...it goes...someday...julius was home momentarily and took off again in the gray van will move my bedroom to the 'girls' room it was kayla's but don't see it as lilly's and they both sleep with me anyway so I'll have joe's room for the sewing and ironing and alterations, making a door to the deck there in summer probably and gravel that driveway so the stationwagon can land there andtruck into the garage and accord out front incase 'stella' wants to ram us all again, hehe/adios AMIGOS...they was mean but Heath got in my face like he does with chocolates and a fine wine and I was quite copacetic..I'm sure that's not the correct spelling but rusty wasn't able to do much so I had to finally open that big iron door to the history of life as we know it...ciao..merMaid

curvature of the knob, review of rosemary and thyme, austtistic children, their parents...

ok, so, can check off elliott's boy(zzz) as been there and done that, the residue grief of departure sullened by the sticky way in which it was accomplished (they do lurk in the trees don't they) however, found an empty white fairly new van out in the woods with apparently no one in it (didn't get out and look because I didn't then thought when I got home, perhaps there was a body in it, it did look abandoned but recently)...skipping thoughts around like stones across the lake because there's an upcoming meeting and ummmmmm...talked with gwennie this morning and told her yeah, I'm finally not scared for rusty anymore and the neighbors can take a hike...well we'll let my most immediate Japanese interface handle that part I think...want some definite R&R like Hawaii but well yeah grieved that the kids had their hopes built up yet again that they'd be stable state and darn if ol clamchowderhead caused brad to ftttttt
well, I was doing some excellent cooking and baking although I shoulda known that last set of oatmeal brownies tasted like they'd already been eaten...
so...prim and proper is going to 'vestigate self...feel the word should be changed to castigate...have to remember was worry over spouse that caused those alarms to go off but he sent me word this morning he's in the DOS for the thing that bothers us so...relief...
celebrated by taking a hot shower, eating three hot dogs and deciding after all to come to the CAT meeting which then we'll go over wtf happened to Buttons who was on his last legs (they'd be chopped up apparently but his last meal was a wonderful can of catfood all to himself and he was always inmy waps...)
so other than that, my story 'curvature of the knob' is coming along and a great load is off my shoulders because now Iknow where my sweet heart has disappeared to...thank God...

on the reef, generally speaking

well, this is a fine day (no rain) cindi has already had me chauffeur her home because her son's truck is sitting at Spreckels' house with no gas and a dead ignition.  Cedar the golden lab came along, she's babysitting him as well.  Feeling very conflicted about the latest episode of foster kidding..this time the girls at the gallery have given me the business, so has the gal that runs the liquor store.  One says that I am to have no more to do with fostering because the kids I get are a blight on the community (this latest one I discovered had a gallon of Bacardi tucked in my sewing trunk.)  The gal at the liquor store thinks I should have just marched him over to the store and returned the bottle immediately but that's not what I did.  This kid came to me with the proviso that his hand was bruised from ramming it into a wall.  I advised myself to caution when discussing the matter and was proceeding with that plan.  Having a sidekick with him most of the day did not enhance my caution, merely quieted it to a dull whisper.  I thoroughly searched his room, found two empties, decided that he had actually been involved in the heist at the liquor store, debated calling the police immediately, went to my TOPS meeting and at 4 pm that afternoon, after his room had been totally overhauled, was preparing to bring him home for the great interrogation.  He was, instead, already in the hands of the police.  The cocky little policeman, one who once read me my Miranda rights over a missing ten dollar, asked me 'when I was planning to tell them (him, the police) about the alcohol in my house.
"Hmm," I said, "You must mean the gallon bottle of bacardi I found in my sewing trunk, huh?"
"were you planning on keeping it?" he asked point blank.
When someone comes at you with that kind of accusation, and bear in mind that the kid was a notable violence potential candidate, you forget to say, when he 'doesn't look like he's going to knock my block off' I'm going to deal with this.  My plan was, because he'd already turned in a bottle of vodka found on the grounds of the art gallery next door, that perhaps he had this alcohol on his own, somehow.  I didn't know, it was my intention to find out.  There was a great potluck in an hour, our annual Christmas feast for the firehall crew.  As it turned out, I didn't make that.  Instead, the police came to my house, the Bacardi, the two empties were taken into custody and so was the foster son.  He had started to call me "Mom".  I never really did get a feel for this guy's personality, rather that he was some kind of 'cover' for himself.  And with that in mind, my daughter read to me last night over the phone the comments that were made by the liquor store lady about 'certain parents in the community not wanting to come forward with evidence'...which is sitting like bile in the back of my throat.  The whole experience was unfortunate and now I'm on the outs with the ladies at the gallery because of it.  They told me in no uncertain terms they would not tolerate another foster child at my home because this one had stolen from them, cadged food, telling them I hadn't fed him..  That's the way it goes with these guys, they learn a certain set of behaviors and there's no stopping them in terms of how they exploit the caregivers assigned to them.  That's probably not the worst of it either.  They come with no resources, no clothing, no goods and services in hand, and in the words of the Port Angeles licensor, who sent me a spelled out list of what the monthly allotment the state provides for them is intended for...you're supposed to just wing it until their allotment comes.  Supposing the kid took my last twenty bucks as a matter of form, along with the giant bag of cheese puffs that I had intended to share with him and a good movie...supposing I did feed and clothe him, chauffeur him to places he wanted to see, and did all I was supposed to do for him and then he robs the liquor store in the middle of the night while I am sound asleep.  "But he's supposed to be supervised.." was the proviso...we knew that, not only was he registered as a pro forma matter of record, he was not allowed on school grounds according to the school principal, who apparently spent the entire week drumming up the injuction against his presence on the school grounds rather than getting him enrolled...which is what we had been working on the entire week before.
I can't really focus on where blame should lie in the situation.  I want to say it's the usual cosmonaut bungo palace and trading suits is what they do.  Thats what I want to believe but soehow it keeps coming back to the girls at the gallery and how they were in the house teaching him to cook while I was at a ladies' luncheon which took several hours and during which time he told me he would be at the library facebooking.  I think I'm hating facebooking at this point.  I'm supposed to be going out the door for a Christmas luncheon as I write this and after the disastorous luncheon previously...do I really want to do that.  I've kind of let things go around the house, although the fire crackles nicely the chimney cap has imploded and needs to come off when the fire dies down.  I'll have to get another one of those and I'll have to measure to see the size...thinking of daily routines and how this has disrupted my world, actually housing someone that committed a crime.  Having it rubbed in my face by people I thought were my friends, who come over days later and ask for a ride home because they're stranded.  Who give me a couple of bucks for being their maid and then ask me to get their coffee after I'm off the clock (for hours at a time they do this...)  It's not really relevant, I help the one because she's done me plenty of good turns, I help the other because I've learned thanks to the likes of Herr Policeman dude that if one has a job, one keeps it no matter what, but in this regard, they've told me that I mustn't be a foster parent anymore and while I might have reached that conclusion on my own, being told to do so makes me dig in my heels and want to refuse.  I doubt I'll have much say in the matter anyway.  The roof leaks in both bedrooms now..I can't fix it myself and Julius is not here.  The gallery girl's son is a a contractor but he ain't touching my projects.  He's filling up the backyard next door with tons of dirt while my backyard sprouts Lake Crescent and Lake Sutherland, in addition to the Mississippi River!!
So, there it is, a few days before Christmas, my mother is sounding like there'll be no generous card from her with a check enclosed.  I'm pretty sure she's not going to hand out presents to myself and my brother this year because she'll think she did and then she'll buy some more beer.  She's gotta have money for that.  She claims to have Parkinsons' but it's the morning after shakes that she's got.  So that's not good but I think what really decided her about Christmas gifts was when I told her I think she's maybe turning into an alcoholic and I'll be happy to take her to AA.  She got this venoumous look on her face, although we did take a trip to Neah Bay for a little jaunt, and closed her cover before striking, hehe...I'm pretty much resolved that last year was the end of Mother's generosity.  That and the eighteen dollars the state wants to give me for keeping this little burglar and the sum of my Christmas holiday experiences is about moot...bah, humbug to all that.  Won't be going in the liquor store ever again for boxes or whatever, not welcome there.  Although that lady sold a bottle to a guy so drunk he drove down a street sign leaving the front of the store..she says 'legally she has to'..hehe, right..and I'm to be condemned for not confronting a brutal child without backup..she wouldn't want to hear my side of the story I'm sure..she has her opinion and she's stuck on it...As far as the gallery girls, well I know they're paid pretty good, they just went to see the Nutcracker in Seattle...and I know who pays them so their money is going right into their pockets and it seems they need more, somehow.  Be nice if they took a trip to Oregon about now...I'm about done with them as well..which leaves me friendless and alone, staring at a little tree, watching the fire burn.  I do think foster parenting is probably behind me..but not because they say I can't do it anymore, but because Ivar's clam chowder is finally ready (huh??)

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