tears in the rain

i usually at least write somewhere else first and then cut and paste it here. but not now, i guess. i'm just here. when you put your hands out, what do they touch? christ almighty, i want some music in my brain. i want some tall grass and maybe a wood stove, too. oh shit, i miss old friends and i wonder what their lives are like. what do they think about?

i'm gonna take a walk. it's dark out now and i bet a little cold. which seems appropriate. the moon is never old. i like to think that it's always a bit young. at least in my life it is. i remember walking from a hotel to downtown craig once, last year. it was really cold out and the moon was never so young. when i look back at this, i'll probably laugh, maybe blush or something. i don't know. sometimes everything is possible. "we wait all day for night to come." i guess sometimes we do.

if anyone has anything to say, say it now. that makes some kind of sense. in all the hills and valleys and old streams that flow somewhere. i had a dream once, years ago. i guess i never have forgotten it. a stream with level ground and short grass and a forest with wide spaced trees. and i was walking along it and this was something important, a part of my life, what i was doing. i can't relate in this medium what it felt like. it was wonderful.....i don't know what to liken it to. maybe like opening a book and that becoming what you need it to be.

maybe i should quit writing here, now, before i embarrass myself. i don't know anyway. this day has been something coming. i've been reading recent news about palestine and i'm so worried and angry and sad. all this pressure from outside, trying to foment a civil war. it's close to happening, it seems. the kettle is close to boiling. or whatever goddamn analogy you want to use. the thing is, these are human lives we're talking about. in this flat little reality we create with words, this can easily be lost. but it is people, me and you and your family and friends. that is the kind of people this is about.

i'm going out now, i think. i'm listening to a song about a poet bleeding and her song a weapon. where is this now! we want words flowing over all this violence, being stronger than it. bullets are a momentary event, short and violent. but words can bridge generations, can outlive trees. we need these words. please write! we need these words. we need these stronger actions and we need this love. waterfalls and rivers and words that walk all over the guns, that plug up the histories of violence and fear. words that speak truth and emtpy hatred of its seeds. please!