My friend Rich

asks;

"Did you ever grow anything in the garden of your mind?"


Why yes;
I hoe... sow... water... and pray... there everyday.
The key for my mind I find...is not being clouded...by a lack of sunshine...
from within.
Or being battered about by a bystander storm.
Akin to the likes of Boreas
before he bore his brood.
Perfect conditions can be created for constant crops.
For you my good man I find:
Frequent, fruit filled harvests, with fresh flavors of foreknowledge.
I choose this for you Rich because I know that you have chosen to mindfully make any waste
more food for thought.

My friend Cindy

Who or what are you sadness?

Why do you fill me so?

Why when you come do I feel sooo full?
Encompassed and encapsulated?
Searing and full, full, full.
You are so full.

You leave no room for doubt, derision or subversion of self.

You fill me from toe top to hair tip.

You radiate into the space of my aura.
I so respect your contained vastness.

Comforted in the knowing of your wholeness.
I am an allower of your embrace.  Submittor to your wash.

Ahh that is it!
I am a submitter to your wash as you cleanse me.

I respect you sadness.

I have a fondness for the mutual respect of our relationship.

You know when you are wanted and how long to stay.

Because of this I do cherish your visits.

Flit around on your social calls and do come again.

How is it then, I can love you more... when you are gone?

You think you are so smart.
Glibly fantasizing intelligence for your captive audience of one.
Mesmorizing only your mind with its own meandering missivness.
Wit and wisdom or woeful wonderment Aaron?
Maybe your truly just a self serving douche.
And you dont even know it.
How smart you are now?

My friend Carol

Sitting in my first world private work space at the public library. 

Floor to ceiling downtown view.

With lots of sunlight too.

Wired and air conditioned.

Desk lamp... ergonomic table and chair. I can get used to working from here.

Only two hours a day you say? That's OK.

I can work with that.

Facebooking for an overpaid paper jockey in a once forbidden waste land made more barren everyday in a literal way.

By the head long embrace of planetary destruction. 

What the Hell?

Why not? 

It paid my bus fare, my lunch and my dinner.

So I too can consider myself a winner.

Somehow how the sadness of all this knowledge of futile truth makes it alright for tears to stream down my face. 

Knowing I am going to sleep alone tonight? More or less. No.

The constant lack of true love and respect.

The love that we need and the respect it all deserves. 

Not all this meager might.

The cracks in the side walk here are ground down if they get to high. 

Be it by earth, tree or water.  

I like that fact. I do.

But you still cant skateboard here like you can on the road from Riobamba to Macas.