ahem, pardon me
4/13/24 I look forward to posting, i do, but sometimes, excuses are made
Love Song #1 (The Axis of Love) Con/Jur/d, 4/13/2024 There is no god who makes you special, Baby We don't know where and we don't know when and we don't know what it means but be assured love is the axis around which we spin Baby Just being here alive for, a time in this world of dawn after dawn night after night spinning through all this unknown all the way up and the unknowable all the way down makes you and me especially free Baby We don't know where and we don't know when and we don't know what it means but be assured love is the axis around which we spin Baby I've met gods who help and I've met gods who harm, and I've met people who wouldn't know a god shouting at them in the street dressed in rags and glory, while the little book divinity they feel gets crushed between their palms We don't know where and we don't know when and we don't know what it means but be assured love is the axis around which we spin Baby We didn't make it We didn't build it We didn't birth it by believing, nor does it STOP One, two when you do so just be and you'll see you don't need anything ‘cause just because you just are divinity, Baby Stop, telling me and you what's going on, claiming your story’s better ‘cause we're all just babies here, Baby We don't know where and we don't know when and we don't know what it means but be assured love is the axis around which we spin Baby
this some thing between no thing Con/Jur/d, 4/11/2024 lost track easy to do here among tools promoted to divinity a squirrel, who scurries through the neighbor’s broken wooden porch latticed skirting, again and again And the fat rain soaked robin, who glumly stared at us, in warm artificiality keyboard poised, blank white screen, with match - ing mind, reminds us We are meant to wander across this some thing between no thing through the byways, paths trails, this singular opportunity to do, to be, to appreciate beauty.
Reminded of the mini-horse dream after reading Judi’s poem about contemporary distractions Con/Jur/D, 4/13/2024 We had to ask our wife about the mini-horse, cat sized that scurried across the hay bails while her dappled colt, partially submerged in the dried grass stems, bravely followed, being the size of a mouse, with difficulty “Did we see that on TV last night?” since we are partial to fantasy epics but even as we asked, we saw the outline of a singular horn, flowing into mottled scales, the smell of burning oats, and two suns on the horizon, she asked us “What the hell is that?” and we couldn’t answer caught up in the day dross, of what was made for dinner, anxiety about the upcoming colonoscopy, how the early spring cold felt on our face vs. the temperature of the blankets as we decided, was it time to get up? So many memories happen this way miracle we remember who wakes up and what they believe.
Much love,
Con/Jur/d, 4/13/2024
Like these bunches. The song is great, baby....