its 6:04… up with the morning am rhapsody
half-worlds in a mixed composition-faceoff before me
nighttime-liquids, color-specific, but in laundry piles
versus climbing walls with familiar names, summoning
feel too ampy to be held back by this standoff
yet still dressed down, in the tie-dye of dreams
as distant conversations loosely gathered but fading
facing the stoic but familiar
expecting attention affront, straight away
needy touchstones of the day’s ascension
6:06… a need to cough and sigh
without interrupting the sound-creek of inner conversation
gravity is a prayer of simple movement in agreement
to bow up and begin
not that linger does not have a full presence
but the ambient light is a provider, going forward
yes, familiar needs no words of formal introduction
there are inadvertent touch stones taken along the way
clothes that are needy of animation passively demanding
mirror time is like bad breath of sight
surely there must be some big task eminently waiting
something that rights the ship of movement
and settles the battle of day-tasks versus night-delights
6:16 … surely falling forward now
the yaps of the night are distant but still calling
loud now has a physical format in play but unspoken
those voices in me that present as choir
have taken up a buoyant sense of familiar presence
there is no argument to be taking place
the night of meaningfuls is in a knapsack of memory
carried forward for sure but not weight-bearing yet
maybe there will come a time of the day for review
but the trickle has become a stream
headed for the river of a meaningful day
nobody else needs to know what I have just shared
6:41 . . . what begun, as a pseudo smile is gone
the vehicle of being is in full-motional intention
the page has been turned, lays contour flat
and there are inadvertent statements to be made
while the action as if me in my character,
has taken on a life of its own . . .
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