Magical birth of my holy night.
I seek the light from under the stairs.
Just where_the under worn hats are borne.
Live at the mystery theater. Shorts.

Bending over at the end of the table_ stillness arrives.
I live here in the mind of the boy___ in question.
I love this young man.
He has potential, as a  plenipotentiary.

An actual partition of moments is occurring.
There is no question, I am having a moment of real vision.
I like the unlikely continuance of what I only half expected.
No broken pieces...only outstanding breaths to match...
My exclusive rights to these special envelopes of now.

What can I say? What am I working for?
Obvious answers would be__the self absorbtion of lens.
Eyesight is the serial line of time given to mission space.
Orders of business resume upon the latest request.

Unusual eyes seeking light action_ Corresponding to movement.
Synchronizing my catch to the vessels sway of two and four.
Beats per minute. A second passed in earnest enterprise.
I am ignoring this night, because of things that disrupt. Point!

I have no reason to think_ I am in the well with the fish.
My line is slightly askew. I want to reach the other side.
Beneath the waves there is more.
I am familiar with my place in this sea of sights.

Like a whale I cruise deep and slow.
Rotating around a point of amber darkening.
I know my weight is weighing in.
Values of the great matters burst forth.

Ruling the chances to find the pathway of description.
The sunlight lies under the skin.
My enterprise __ my night of a thousand winds.
Once more a door opens, and cruises out into perpetuity.

Light ladders weigh at the center of definitions edge.
Singular thoughts come in fractions of suspension.
I am a little like my life. Depends!
I want that to mean more, even if noone can see the sighs.

One Day!
Light and dark. Right or wrong.
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.
Right thought, right action.
Changes everything.
On the the spot. Perfect rhyming time.

If there isn't a poet in the house.
Only a pure center being, Who is__
Not quite as pure, as he would have you believe.
I come to the supulchur to be purified. Light!

Weightless...
God's indulgence is the rendering of passage,
and unperfected right taken tries.
I have been here _the whole time trying to blend and re-call.
Everything that lies ahead_ Is beyond my command.

I lay at the door reeling in the center of that spot under the stairs.
Imaginations end_ has only beginnings of  'therefore'.
With love I begin over, and try to remember_
why I think my chances are taken_
To be the right way.

I allow myself to think, therefore...I follow my lead.
I think I will commend my effort to a real anxious desire.
To find the 'Wherefore art thou?' A personality, a trend.
A message free reason to exist in this cyber factory of words.

Nothing can dissuade my personal blend of self satisfaction.
The audacity of breathing chances in the night.
I am a song sung enterprise. I am not the music or words.
I am a language I learn each day, because I am my voice.

It says, " These are  words. These are the meanings of saying things."
Differently, as in the order of new chains.
Laying about in the raining mist of a new night.
I ruggedly, softly command the titling floor of my escape.

I lift the page_ to lower the door.
Endings are many, and they will not come undone.
I did not try the other way. Guaranteed satisfaction.
I don't know what I am doing this for. Beyond!

Question? If you are still in my room under the stairs.
You know more than I will acknowledge.
I admire your curiousity. You have been here before.
That is what I love about the night.

When a personal night ends and preparations are made.
Sleep..., rest is or is not a choice, but eventually it descends.
We begin again, and find our rebirth in the deepest earth of night.
The lighting of the streets we pass_moving forth_
are the difference in tomorrow's ends.

Stillness is what I will be looking for.
This ends tonight_on my time.
My run of time is blending forward into_
Pleasing thoughts of dependibility.

Listen, I've talked enough.
I'm done being this unusual creature of division.
As soon as I say that...
I know my chance is only this.

I will do this again and wonder why...
And I will try to render a better rendition of faith.
My practice is not a crime.
I am working on the perfection of the sublime.

My time, my ends.
I delight in being me. Again.
Childhood's great enterprise.
The crossing of the deep dark sea.
Above the starry night.
The horizon ahead.

One hour in and I am done for.
Ta ra ...nighty night... TR
Emotion:Love
Loving the giving
of Self.

2008@beeswax.call