I seem to have been up all night.
I have not been up all night since I was in college.
Or sitting on the front steps of Jim's Hollywood cottage
watching the dawn
having tried once again to make love
the two of us... gay and straight
so deeply in love with the other..
still trying to commune physically.
Fools.
We sniffed such beautiful aroma's that night.
The smell the color of pink morning.
Jasmine in February.
And breathing what we knew was love
we fell more deeply toward each other.
And the night I sat at his bedside in the hospice,
just after I had wheeled him into the night air
to breathe his last breath of sweet
before his sister would come to smother him in his end..
that was the same smell that followed back in to the cave.
I think he knew.
And then I left him to his crazy sister
and their familial murder.
I hear tell that the next 700 days are pretty important
in the expansion of the planet
and its consciousness.
If that's true... they got me.
Since I have been conscious over twenty four hours
and seem not to be willing, able or leaning toward a lie down.
I wonder if I am mad.
Quite possible of course.
I went to one of those rockem sockem
energy conference things this weekend.
I thought it did not affect me. And here I am.
I gave up trying to sleep a few hours ago and
turned on the television to receive the message
from Robert Frost looking
positively fifty
on CUNY All Night brainiac tv:
"whose woods these are I do not know..
But I have miles to go before I sleep.
I have miles to go before I sleep."
Yes. This is apparent. There is a speeding up. A desire to get it out into the world.
To do the next play. To give the next gift. To love the next one deeply and long.
Longingly long so that we will twist and dance all through time and space
collapsing into each other and colliding with time as it folds in on itself and us.
I wonder if my body will hold out. There is a tugging even now
in my chest. Not certain if that is digestion or circulation.
My body a reflection of my mental state of course.
I cannot walk unless I walk.
My body stiffens with each move
I do not make
I cannot sleep unless I dream.
I cannot write unless I watch.
The next 700 days will speed us like
Little Black Pink Green Red Sambos
spinning to butter.
Maybe I will land
and see what pinpoint I can report .
And who will read I do not know
the woods are lovely dark and deep
but I have promises to keep,
and miles to go before I sleep
and miles to go before I sleep.
I have not been up all night since I was in college.
Or sitting on the front steps of Jim's Hollywood cottage
watching the dawn
having tried once again to make love
the two of us... gay and straight
so deeply in love with the other..
still trying to commune physically.
Fools.
We sniffed such beautiful aroma's that night.
The smell the color of pink morning.
Jasmine in February.
And breathing what we knew was love
we fell more deeply toward each other.
And the night I sat at his bedside in the hospice,
just after I had wheeled him into the night air
to breathe his last breath of sweet
before his sister would come to smother him in his end..
that was the same smell that followed back in to the cave.
I think he knew.
And then I left him to his crazy sister
and their familial murder.
I hear tell that the next 700 days are pretty important
in the expansion of the planet
and its consciousness.
If that's true... they got me.
Since I have been conscious over twenty four hours
and seem not to be willing, able or leaning toward a lie down.
I wonder if I am mad.
Quite possible of course.
I went to one of those rockem sockem
energy conference things this weekend.
I thought it did not affect me. And here I am.
I gave up trying to sleep a few hours ago and
turned on the television to receive the message
from Robert Frost looking
positively fifty
on CUNY All Night brainiac tv:
"whose woods these are I do not know..
But I have miles to go before I sleep.
I have miles to go before I sleep."
Yes. This is apparent. There is a speeding up. A desire to get it out into the world.
To do the next play. To give the next gift. To love the next one deeply and long.
Longingly long so that we will twist and dance all through time and space
collapsing into each other and colliding with time as it folds in on itself and us.
I wonder if my body will hold out. There is a tugging even now
in my chest. Not certain if that is digestion or circulation.
My body a reflection of my mental state of course.
I cannot walk unless I walk.
My body stiffens with each move
I do not make
I cannot sleep unless I dream.
I cannot write unless I watch.
The next 700 days will speed us like
Little Black Pink Green Red Sambos
spinning to butter.
Maybe I will land
and see what pinpoint I can report .
And who will read I do not know
the woods are lovely dark and deep
but I have promises to keep,
and miles to go before I sleep
and miles to go before I sleep.
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