to live in simple-city 11/2/18

for me, psychological states are often emphatic 

but, generally spoken inwardly in monotones.

it’s invariably hard on the intake, 

the greet, that first view of another person

yet it is easy to go for the sensory gimmicks, 

some prominent locational feature on them

or that first sense of visual draw that will do.

organizing conversation towards dialogue

eventually leads to one thing

a launched out of the mouth

by one of us.

for some people 

it’s just a livestock of words in passing.

some stand there with an invisible accordion,

singing their moods.

I prefer the silent charcoal viewing of another

for the curvatures and the foremost of accents,

a sense of scale, flooding over me.

it is only then

that I pickup on the cosmetics and the coloration.

for I would want their say

to match their presentation,

for it to be the mood swing

that I would want to ride.

but often it is billboards presenting

and I have to slow down for the read of it.

friends are often as comfortable as chairs 

by their presence,

a fireplace with a warm burning from their heart,

as tall trees that look fondly down on me

to watch over my inner childness of being.

I want for cloud reflected faces

in the stillness of lake-waters presenting,

face to face.

the sinuousness of trees 

as these people are babbling 

in a monosyllabic language of breeze.

and for the sun of another

to breathe on me with its directness of sound,

so I can to melt into comfortable shared stanzas.

I want next thoughts of them

as if like greeting old friends,

in the overwhelm of the hum of the day, 

with them blooming

between my own thought interjections.

I want for us rafting on a river of joy,

sleeping with bunkmates as stars,

and feelings for the endless rain

touching everything about us compassionately.

I have no need for the serrated cuts 

of frame-break distractions, 

as if days from nights

or the calendar’s account

as an estimate of my current waistline and aging.

I want the taste of sweets from others

that I would have never thought to make

and to eventually live in a land

that has a shared language 

that exists without nouns.

for pain to be my listening time

and for wisdom 

to be molecularly at work within me.

so much so,

that people often come by

just for the soothe

and bare no questions . . .