Archaic toiling Through endless character streams To drown deeper still Beneath black and white waters Until I breathe symbolly

Anticipation Generic butterflies swarm Twists, knots, fluttering They find no golden nectar Only number two pencils

Is there something dark? Dark, dark, deep down inside me Something that keeps me Away from the center ring A divergent path indeed

Just for a moment To glimpse from dusty pages A single white flash Tenuous seconds follow Until a roaring reply

Howling and wailing Like the vast October winds Delightful to find Many who share the same chord Sing till frogs jump in our throat…

I guess it’s about that time again time for another pointless relapse Time, like a dusty album record Spinning, around and around on end I want the needle to break or veer…

Fresh Seattle rain Cleanser more of soul than streets I envy that sound Such simple pure harmony Don’t forget that umbrella!

Bickering tree frogs Endless croaking back and forth Dream a soothing song One where two branches can meet In this capital forest

To puddle one’s words Few are willing to admit Myself least of all To fall and land upon earth Closer to Earth than before?

Red and orange glitter Dancing delicately high Above winding paths Falling to the great grey streams Falling for grace, or duty?

To grasp at the root This longing for the seasons Hidden deep, deep down To say it’s just “Natural,” Would only scratch the leaf-tops

Seasonal ill’n Ado, ado, soft achoos Cool wind seeps through me

Foggy morning sky Your veil remains untouched by The flags of Autumn How cruel of you to kidnap Such keen keepsakes of your kin

My White Cloak Part one: Place Entering day by day (1) Into a place to grow and stay Into the foundational walls of old