Too late to say it

If your soul had a scent

it would be feces.

Now.

Warm weather is here.
& lust in the air causes the itchy eyes & runny noses.
Allergies were created to explain the untangible affects of desire

So breathe deep.

(Coney Island- Henri Cartier-Bresson)

Breathe deep
Warm weather is here
Your warm skin -

Lyrics ofthe Day

Sweet Thing
Van Morrison

And I will stroll the merry way
And jump the hedges first
And I will drink the clear
Clean water for to quench my thirst
And I shall watch the ferry-boats
And they'll get high
On a bluer ocean
Against tomorrow's sky
And I will never grow so old again
And I will walk and talk
In gardens all wet with rain

Oh sweet thing, sweet thing
My, my, my, my, my sweet thing
And I shall drive my chariot
Down your streets and cry
'Hey, it's me, I'm dynamite
And I don't know why'
And you shall take me strongly
In your arms again
And I will not remember
That I even felt the pain.
We shall walk and talk
In gardens all misty and wet with rain
And I will never, never, never
Grow so old again.

Oh sweet thing, sweet thing
My, my, my, my, my sweet thing

And I will raise my hand up
Into the night time sky
And count the stars
That's shining in your eye
Just to dig it all an' not to wonder
That's just fine
And I'll be satisfied
Not to read in between the lines
And I will walk and talk
In gardens all wet with rain
And I will never, ever, ever, ever
Grow so old again.

Oh sweet thing, sweet thing
Sugar, baby with your champagne eyes
And your saint like smile

Today

Today is a good day.

To be

both the narrator & Tyler Durden

a rubik's cube that if solved re-scrambles itself

a birch tree shadow

standing at the equator, cliffside, looking up as the sun shifts above bringing nighttime to your past and a morning twenty seconds ahead

is to be you.

Dream.

To be able to go to this:

http://www.adlerplanetarium.org/apollo13/index.shtml#events

Poem ofthe Day

STOLEN MOMENTS
By Kim Addonizio

What happened, happened once. So now it’s best
in memory—an orange he sliced: the skin
unbroken, then the knife, the chilled wedge
lifted to my mouth, his mouth, the thin
membrane between us, the exquisite orange,
tongue, orange, my nakedness and his,
the way he pushed me up against the fridge—
Now I get to feel his hands again, the kiss
that didn’t last, but sent some neural twin
flashing wildly through the cortex. Love’s
merciless, the way it travels in
and keeps emitting light. Beside the stove
we ate an orange. And there were purple flowers
on the table. And we still had hours.