orgami's Diaryland Diary

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libraree

forty two minutes and falling..
air exchanger
rushing
like a waterfall
rumbling with its potency
the fluid coursing through
the apex

outside the sun beats down
shinning on all that is alive
revelations of winters
salvations and treasures
cast upon its shore bones

the detrius of visions

been sleeping well
organizing the archives
reactivating and
finding systems closing
such as it is..
the ebb and flow

just noticed the clock
i have places to be
other the sitting here..
however...
i am pursuant to want
to write
one of the things i enjoy
to do...
wordage...

thousand and some here
and thousand and some
there....

passing fortunes and fancy

and living
living on the precipace
of something intriquing...

warmth and cold breadths
like a passion this rush
in the quiet nostelgia
there is recountments

but i am no longer asleep
as percival

there is still much to do

about everything.....

and romance is not dead
as i described..
merely a moment
a quiet thought holding pattern
while it was equated and balanced
my return

from the lahland i so love to
a more malleable purpose

sitting at the typewriter
its density and feel
the machinery and smell
of the oil and ribbons
the ink..the errors of its
talents and the monkey
at the keys tells me much

of what i have missed in
the physical form of messaging
the modern issues of electronic
bandwidth...

cellphones...i still do not like
them....but sitting on my hill
sending smoke signals is a dying
art.....
unlike the vintage of the writing

one must keep up with the joneses
now i am a slave to recharge
and distrubition fees of air time
text time
funtime

at least i have music now..
as if the traffic and waterlulls
on the creeks were not enough
the wind in the urban forests
and rain on the sidewalks
that hush
spoken like a sigh
or thunderous in its deluge
refreshing and destroying my
cigarettes.....

thirty three minutes..
have to get going..
have an hour to wander aimless
till arrival time at the next waypoint..

2:40 p.m. - 2014-02-19

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