morning is sometimes colder than we ever forsee

2003-30-10, 9:03 p.m.

his morning smile slams into the tree outside his bedroom window, his smile makes dry leaves fall in batteries. crisp and cool, his legs are somewhere else from the rest of his body, the air just doesnt seem unified, his hands want to feel that shivering (though i dont know why). imagining what the space between my hands feels as i clap, that whirlwind that gathers momentum with the closing grip, then a thuder clap as the air departes from some loved one, crying her name in some foreign tongue.

once again, i have come to a point of realizing their are words all around us, sentences of poetry, and its either inaudible, or we fail to translate it - oh how the Japanese must have felt hearing the windtalkers!-. analogous and adherent is the way grass whispers, we are aching to attain some book which would aid in solving the mysterious voices.

off to class

off to another day

rings would wear thin in paths like this

necessary to success; i wonder when i can wake up..

with thick smoke in the air, crumbles institutions

and an uncertain tomorrow

but we can be free for at least a day