That pleasant feeling of suspension
between ground and air,
seemed like no one there yet voices
soothed with familiar words;
my name mentioned
White plastic mattress of sorts,
heat of the sun everywhere,
forehead moist, stared at feet,
ornate handles like snakes
greeted shadows of leaves.
Duck pond, their mocking cry,
other birds sang close by:
blue straps. Powdered hands
then my self lifted out,
cupped in dazzling bright light,
sat on a lap.
Intense band of green
seemed to run on forever,
without imperfection and not one
leaf stirred in air
so still it seemed to stop time.
Is that why I remember?
15 Apr 08
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i loved it Larrylark, up with the larks, and i will be reflecting on the loveliness of being nearly nought, and feeling time unravel at its own will, and not having the wit to worry or care that everything is finite. the glorious unbeing of limited conciousness, living, and only living in the moment.
As if i would ever be the slightest bit interested in anything at all you have to say about anything at all in the whole wide world. Silence from you would be golden, but do we ever get it? No ! cus you seem to think for whatever reason (and by the way i marvel at the amazing way you can waste so much of your own time) we are all agog waiting for the golden nuggets to spill from your keyboard. The reality is base metal.
Larry ear muffs Lark
being small seems such a short time ago but the tears in between seem long