To Be Or Not

I think

not

today

Behind

Trail

Track

Tracks

Left

Behind

So

Simple

So much less

So much more

Residue

Thinking about residue right about now. I am waiting for my kitchen floor to dry. It seems that if my floors are clean and I can walk barefoot then I might have a chance to be a little happy that day.
I flit around time; one tense and another like that yellow butterfly does do.
Yesterday, I never wore shoes. I would push the baby stroller everywhere with my bare feet showing and touching. Touching everything. I never got sick. I never had fungus. No residue from my walking ever hurt anything. I did have to scrub. My feet. Why is it that now, today, my floors have to be so clean?
My first husbands father used to say that if he saw me with shoes upon  my feet he would declare me
"grown-up?"
He passed on to another space and time and left me before that ever happened. But, he did give me his blessing to marry the man I love, now.
It is startling like the time in Alborg, Denmark, my ancestral homeland, when I did not know that I was not supposed to wear a bathing suit in the sauna. This thought sticks to me. Bare feet. . .not a problem. . .but bare body? Those darling Swedish boys who were in Alborg for the weekend thought I was pretty strange.
Have you ever been grabbed by a spider web? Unbelievably strong and sticky residue?

An Answer

OK? In answer to a question:


What does a mature artist say?
Imagine
Imagined
So, if I shared my hearts desire
First, I would have to KNOW what that might be.

I secretly envisioned myself working with sounds
And visual clues
Not telling a whole story.

Usually, I just work to see what it has to tell me
Exactly what is that hearts desire?

I have a burning desire to use words
But, the habit of not editing myself
Before I think through something
Gets me into tremendous trouble

Sometimes.

I need to warn people who come across
This path of mine
That I never mean any harm
It is all just an experiment

I do not think life is really real, anyways.

I think about this a lot.

An illusion of reality is the reality

I wonder and wander, amazed at this world my mind creates

I am the mind of God (and so are you)

In this sense, that this is just a dream, of sorts.

Now, it is all about birds
Everywhere I turn
It is all about birds
This is all I can see or hear or notice
So, I ask myself
Just what is it about birds?
What do I have to say or not say
About birds?

Yoko Ono 

Wake-up song

is what I am listening to from You Tube 

(see above right for a listen)

I had the original tape but. . .

It has worn out.

Still am in the midst of revamping

hm vamp?

I need to get rid of the cobwebs

spray sounds good to me?

The song of birds is calling me

still

be

still.

Do you see the flower shape as the form of the type?

To Talk About Dreams

I Wish I Had A Tail

A bird   S A  N C T U A R Y is a safe spot where you can pull up a log and sit down to hear the message of this moment. I can not sing but I can whistle, a little bit. I try to let the birds know me as I know them.  I communicate without words like my crazy baby kitty does with the flick of his tail.
I wish I had a tail. I wish I could sing like the redbird sings.