Some SOCs

Stream Of Consciousness
sitting by the window cars roar by trucks deliver groceries with a
banging of ramps and containers and backup signals pierce waves of
cars wash over me in sound as lights change occasional distant voices
flaot in I look out across the dark parking lot try to accept these
noises as part of nature's ebb and flow like waves on the beach try
to find something soothing in it. well, the warm air does caress my
skin, seems fresh and alive, so I accept that


when its hard to think of anything else its that feeling in your stomach that connects straight to the center of your brain it seems or perhaps all around the skull like a sinus headache but rubbing the temples doesn't work evict the moneychangers the charlatans "the great big idol with the golden head!" (see David Bromberg) he has the perfect music for this, kinda fat bass lines, a perverse attitude and lots of it lots of grit and skill and flexibility but no commercial viability now I lost track well the stream rolls on and you have to climb out to return to where you been but the stream will go on, and unless you want to carry your boat on your back, you're gonna have to find another



determination in elongation
is accomplishment
predestination is determination
giving its full head
elaboration is simplification
turned on its head
take this job and shove it
right along the path
I don't know where I'm going but I'm going
nowhere in a hurry
You have to have a destination in mind
to get somewhere
I think, although sometimes I feel
like I need to give fate
a chance to direct ME



Heathered moors rolled gray at midday in floating swirl of misty moisty stuff blown gently around my skin, coating my jeans like snowflakes lost in July.. seasons of England blurred by mother ocean taking hold time and again reducing occasional bright flash of a a sunny day to a hallucinatory vision - how could such a day ever exist here in the land of eternal dank twilight - and the people i meet have the same gentle sullen drab dampness with a dark side that oozes through if you push them wrong, but in general I see mild acceptance, a fuzzy-minded stickiness- sure stay out late as you want, they told me at the B&B but they silently lock up when their bedtime comes, so beware! Still, they say nothing the next day, when they see me, my having slipped in through an unlatched window. And occasionally the ocean exerts itself, blows in gusts of heavy drops to splatter against my leggings, make drips under my glasses into my eyes. But the QUEEN. She will be on Guernsey that week. Oh to be there when she is! But its booked months in advance. And do you remmeber that huge blizzard in '72? we were snowed in for weeks, no fresh groceries. Good thing our pantry was full.
Benny Hill? Height of culture. Game shows, little breakfast meat unidentifiable. Cornish pasties pass for exotic local fare. Sea Gull visits are height of the day's activities.



sidelong stare not quite in my eyes at first then only for an instant a quick scanning search from puppydog vulnerability strips my defenses and I crawl across her face with my vision and barest fingertip brush and leave preludes to tracks of tentative trails in directions not yet taken crossroads stood at long and learily lingering, seemingly studded with spinning signposts uncertain my footprints the singular sign of direction trailing off behind yet they appear as a stumbling stoned soused directionless demented drunkard's dithering



the moment of rising is an unforgettable heart thump, like rounding
the bend to the first site of the tetons rising craggy and bold
against an icy blue sky, or the first hot breath of a new love, is the sight of the snow geese , a complicated rhythm of many winds, and the orchestrated
motion skyward is a thrill to the eye

while nearly asleep an idea creeps and grows unbidden into a familiar
glow I find that my steps are quick and short but I make some
progress in between snores and hope the walls don't crash while I try
to move outside into the warmth

Feel free to e-mail me:
© 2001 trcoleman.geo@yahoo.com


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