This here East which stands in need and wants to give, can give more than it needs. The red burns as it is wont to do. This here East which turns red on its head.
Morning has no answer as it is better equipped to give context to the sky, the birds, the sea, the mountain and the forest. This is the wrong place for answers. And time.
This here now stream of words primes you to reorient your innards in accord with time. And place. Anxious demands drop off as the incessant movement that is preordained is less receptive to the law of preordainment by invoking the higher law of mishmash and vapor. And nonsense. Which steadies the red and breathes fire into it.
Its sharpness dulled, the knife slides back into its sheath.
The higherLaw of m i s h m a s h
and vapor. Steadies day as sure
as
you
can let the wishbone decide on what is to be administered by rote and what by eking out genius gliding through corridors of rightnesses and pangs of sweet naughtnesses. Should
the standard be set somewhat
higher?
East is in need and it wants to give: this bit gives the upward slant a push. West will appropriate those sweet pangs into full blown howls of pain: this bit corrects the upward slant.
And how to engage, connect with sounds that hold true for the ear which perceives only the craftiness of the din?
Gathering just-a-bit-o moss 