I feel the comfort of a fleece-lined comfort of a foam full cushioned spread balloon of warm air safe haven.

This steel-reinforced cage I can take anywhere, mobile as an agile tank of metal alloys and machine parts

I see my things, all near to me, dear to me.

Skateboard sitting on top of my clothesbasket, clothes hanging from a steel rod

Curtain hanging from the ceiling.

I pull my curtain back to peek at the world outside, safely viewing the landscape, protected.

I hear the soft trickle of a stream nearby, land scaped to perfection by the great big Orange men and women above.

The angels in the sky know who I am and say nothing

Because this story of mine

Is only underway a whisper.

So I’ll stay quiet in my shielded noise from the sky

As the cars drive by

And I pull my mind away from the world beyond.

Inside here it is cool, soft, comfortable, simple, designed and crafted to a simple perfection

Utility all the way, if I can say

So myself, I will be in this lonesome chalet

Ice skating one winter to the tune of a classical chandelier-fine rumbling of a man in his cottage

Slaving away with pen and ink, paper, lines, staff, fire.

The word is my way, though I miss the vibrational mainframe

of tuned mechanics, tuning sweetly to the rumblings of our inner stomachs

If to pinpoint one simple day, an algorithm for the way

Or skip it altogether and be this brilliant master of our resonant inner cavity

I think of gravity, the shifting of space-time and velocity

Time is only the product of energy, made manifest upon mass.

That’s as far as she goes, I suppose

Until I can find a simplicity

To make the world’s soul strings

A string theory, and time slows.

To a stop.

Raindrop in the water





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