such a deal

hurting for but also from,

the way thought works,

as in mentally shoveling 

in a emotional snow storm.

our rituals of rigor,

pitching angst skyward

as if falling snow looks somehow

so much different.

so I'm getting glops 

instead of flakes,

location instead of blanketing? 

a comedy of displacement 

as personally relevant.

winter so stages me as this comedian, 

physical humor seen in an afterthought.

but this metaphor speaks to me,

otherwise thought is so linear obnoxious. 

my emotions have a mind of their own

and thought is not the method used.

my emotions don't have an upstairs viewing.

no hollering down to the me in waiting.

my emotional me has a forest spread

for many things, at one time, ongoing.

amused at what is brought to mind.

but seriously wanting to spend more time

in the gaze and wander, 

as emotions have their own business

without upkeep or account barging in.

my emotions are otherworldly in interest.

yes, notice does occur,

as if languaged rendered 

creating a short-term relevancy.

otherwise there is an internal sea of ongoing,

while apparent reality only attends to this as surfaces.

physicality is so slow on the intake.

so much more timelessly happens

in ongoing emotional terms.

sure, reality-mentally conceived, is neighborly,

but dream-escapades are more truly spoken

than from any court of law.

no one, in my emotional world,

looks at the world as art or artful.

such a self-position as if take is just rendered.

who has the time for that, emotionally speaking?

emotion is all river or sea or ocean

and has little or nothing to do with banks or shores..

emotional is core and mental is peripheral

language is secondary but always efforting towards.

emotional focus doesn't have to have an object in mind

but more so, a presence in heart.

thought is so self-misguided.

it's like thought is bruising

and emotion is ever-healing.

and vitality has no mirror to look into that,

just emotional presence, 

ever emitting . . .