My head is a living forest full of songbirds. – jena schwartz
a sort of poem in response…streaming:
song sounds like an Asian name, and i don’t know enough to know which language.
but song. Song.
I think of artwork rendered in one-dimension line drawings, always with a bird, a bird, a bird.
not living, like an abstract intellectualism of flight. a spot on the landscape that happens to move when not caught on paper. pinned.
and yet, how i love abstract intellectualism. abstractly.
while my heart is filled with the noise and chaos and cacophony of the dawn in my pre-winter days. . .
the fully fleshed, but ah, a spot on the landscape… a twitch in the bramble.
—sigh, you guys. i still choose joy. i still choose the twitch in the bramble. but i fell off the earth this week, clutching at tree branches as i spun out. the whole monkey mind thing really took me out, and yesterday i took a nap. its a sign of my inner chaos, i think, bigger than i was aware of. and i’m trying to assess how much of it is because i’ve been handling all the things so calmly, the car, the pipes, the cigarettes, the pinkeye, the no heat, the grief, the birthdays, all of it… the holidays have become such a strain on my impressionable psyche, I might just spin until january, when it all drifts back down to the ground again.
so thats where i am. i’ve stopped texting ‘that guy’ and i’m not yet clear enough in my head to not be making up stories, and i’m getting pissed off at myself. i cannot currently tell the difference between intuition and compulsion, and thats a freaking biggie. so, hands off everything til that one settles out.
but i love you, i do. that much i know. if you know me, you know i do. if i don’t know you, let me. I’ll love you too. I will.
(but i won’t smell that good while doing it, thats all. ) 
