Dog Ear

The book reads well, even if blatantly banal
It was in good condition when I bought it
But I did notice a pattern
Pages dog-eared every so often

As we continue to spin in the cosmos, I notice the more important personal things are closer to the size of dust particles rather than globular clusters.
There has been a return to intent of rejecting what is in front of me. My simple machine transforms light into a wet canvas waiting for manipulation. The power brings a certain heaviness long stored before ancient recordings. Am I choosing to wrestle with God? A superfluous endeavor when everything has already been perfected.
No. I cede to God.
My feeble paintings.
Hung on the fridge with a magnet.
In heaven’s kitchen.

Starling looking south

False, But Ok

Moon Conversing

Happy New Revolution Everyone