backpacker in japan reading old newspapers

It was a day out of place, like spring and so I ran out and saw Elias, working on the way as we went down to the park and spoke on the web of branches, before I had bicycled down the road and looked at the sky, this whole thing about sunday being the first day, in the weekly cycle. I picked about seven reasons why the trees overall weree shades to a greater sprouting arc out in alaska where bridges spanned hillsides and maybe coyotes roved. Riding down a hawk burst out in front of me and I shouted in suprise, it just flew off and up, away higher in the trees. Things come so slowly in this road of old hallways and mics on landed on pine needles and piano blues. I turned and saw Turner reading a book. Then more happened, the laundry turned on. Sitting around is really interesting, with everybody forming their own veiw of whats going on, behind, further behind in songs that move throughout the world on radiowaves and make their own greetings up for people on sidewalks to say, hello! That is how Yolee met Oliander. It was high noon, I wondered, reading more into the stars from the trampoline, how such a rift could have arose. It was right and wrong. Yin and Yang. Me trying to explain to a world where words were only words but so the real thereness of the wooly dress was clear and thicker when falling over on the carpet blue sky wallpaper and homes built over old woodlands. The egyptians planted flax along the banks of the nile where silt poured in and the ground was always moist.
Its almost like those nature callings in chile with mystical fire breathing dragons on the front cover and old anime trivia on the right hand where I left in a van carrying four loose cigarettes and intoxicated. The slow music of the room picks here to run back and forth on a highway to canada on the passenger side looking out into the world. What is the world anyway? All these conventions and items and purposes and traditions for once they seemed to make sense, we are just people, a kind of people who have done what we do. Its rains slightly on the shed door. Outside snow completed the corner.

Why are you talking about corners so much, huh? The round and smooth things of the world stand up and unite here, drops of water gather on stalagmites but its so warm around this time, the grass keeps growing and the trees breath in. Leaving trails by the road where who knows how many stories trace along each day like a kid in a moonbounce. On the trains every face was fixed in beautiful serene equanimity on the crumbling sounds of dry autumn ground. The wind blows everywhere and air pervades, even when theres no hawks or feathers, theres always that sound that beating that keeps this thing going. Like the back of an old van thats been through Nevada and up the coast. Theres some log cabin somewhere with a garden and thyme, and a little woodsman with a broad axe and smile and hey, who knows where the dharma leads out and over the tops of trains and even hugging trees and remembering how I'd forgotten so many past mysteries and ramblings on that always left me in a bit of a hurry and bubbling like the spring in the brook. But it was a pleasant thing. Altogether the slight brush of America, its countryside, the planet earth and all its peoples lit in the sun. Who is this funny poet who speaks of all reality as a fleeting glimpse between blinking twice. We had entered and retreated and progressed to a point of return.

Kids just wanting to meet hippies and pads and flat and around soccer games this feeling gathers and rises. Hey its another sun down, its another dancer shaking flying saying 'mama'. Why? Just because theres fire in the pits and theres pool tables in the okonos. Links between my little dirt path. Every moment, why is every moment so great? Even those in the back waiting untouched and unnoticed, passed maybe the two hundred and second step. Past the top and how much will you not have to say? I sit down at dinner tables to eat. A leaf unfurling on afternoon walk.

Mister star, you taxi driver from my dream, riding up into the boxed rooms and opening the windows where vines grow up the outside. I was a wallflower at a party and saw a girl laughing standing on the rug. Is this brazilian music? The curve of the slide and going down not caring anymore. Pot. Bhangi, he said what sewing and lessening.

It was all so beautiful. I just want to sit back all day and listen to My Bloody Valentine songs and chill out while laundry dries on the breeze. Clothespin days, okay.

 

So what you picked up a sign, some scarf a guy let on the side of the road. Theres things more encouraging, like fucking on grass, actually I've never done that but it seeems nice, I'm just looking out a way for my animal fiends in some jungl book shit. Took to zazen on stret cornrs because what else is there..
is she saying we should slow down? Cars in my peripheral and so many layers because last night was the ssaddest as the heat dripped down from my shoese in ghostform and I might have heeard it walk away or was it some rentacop getting his 5 minute homage. From the old house to the parking lot, to the old mexican restaurant, just saying that god for my benefactor with the $. Funny how it all changed from lollipops to spies to high hills covered in old bottles. aint it the saddest and beautiful and nobdy even thunk it, it just went down like that. I thought about Joe Zaine under some tunnel or maybe what do I know? Still living this 2 world life, family and freedom, or somethin I wrote a song, I wrote a song. Jah skanga mudra old record bookstore why?

The night before I'd been wandering around just looking for a warm place to lay down and rest, the zen house had become too risky, samurai's were about and something in me still clung to my relative free and easy ways. Follow codes like those guys and your heart becomes numb as a thimble. The roads seemed strange and endless, looking down to the thin divide between sidewalk panels like stages a progression of thought that went from the car to the traffic light to the cold hand holding the guitar case to the plants and in a circle like that. In a way, it was all over, but I kept up and trees whispered in the wind. I feel like they have a lot to say, having spent so much time unwavering in heat and chill. I thought of cavemen and how much thought they must have put into the simple sensation of coldness. Once you stop fighting it, it actually wipes every thought from your head for a bit and you get washed away in that pure sheen of blue glory. But hey, in every corner a new world but whose got the time to see them all? We may try but slowly break down for the momentum of some dream, I stood outside Mya's house, wanting to knock. It was so cold.

So I did.

Her Mother answered and said she wasn't there. I said things about life, and that the world had become quite a place. She agreed and smiled, offered me water and the home was cool but out into the night again.

I settled down and went to sleep.

Waking up the remnants of the night before did not seem a dream at all, as I would expect. They were strangely real. I lay in bed for a while trying to arrange the pillows. Maybe it was a dream after all, it had seemed decades had occured over the past two days.

 

yeah, its all about the feeling, life happenings thanks for this response

Playing at punk shows, being in audience taking shoes off midshow and the wife looking all

correct while some dude shouts fuck god, fuck allah, fuck buddha
and any depedence... then a bunch of people were all over the floor moshing and I stood

behind with the girls.. finally i found people.. people who werent totally insane in this

world.. but wait.. that was a band before.. why fuck god? take your shoes off, I can't

understand anyone... everything sounds so amazing, everything makes so much sense. corner

bike, corner bike oh yeah why fuck allah?
on a corner bike yeah, live punk kids... and ambros
and parker (its a ska band!)
kristin, these are just names i found... this is how much you lose your style.. I H.R. and

the bad brains were here once.. on a shirt of some girl next to the skeleton scene
political, historical, flags, apostrophes
get the wall man
these bouncing ravioli heads.. smiling shiny head kid, sleeping here in video games
who was that poet kid in the park? Are days yellow moss? Pack the water, behind the pinball

machine, before the pogo...
I morphed on a tree in outside hakuin type incense sticks, the ladies screamed... no ladies

screamed... back riding the train, suddenly it hit me in everett, mountains and eyes.

beautiful places, thats the love, good vibe blossoming up out of your jeans huh? This

fashion got that deeper sensibility, rastamon!
See I heard this, thought girl, examined on hammer ways called in and back... I just am

myself, I have nothing to say but... remember in quarters rolling clank in the machine, all

back to a machine but nothing back there could be undid.. or was it? Come live right out of

dream, when all your life is a forest hunt, looking for leaves and warmth and fruits of the

earth, and then the guys at the edge appear cutting wood in trucks. Talk about an older idea

and you see, I see I'm the one with the fucking bike in the middle of the woods.
stomp.
bomb, love dust... opening hands to frame those picture perfect sage leaf dish bundles out

because wait.. oh I haven't heard about him in a while, where is that suit?
ARAGPOKDGADJOGAM!MEL! M@O
K !@K! @# OL!#L
Stopped wearing clothes in april, quite even the dress, dropped on the floor and left. Its

warm enough now, lets go to the desert and dance and stuff, its cool.
the sarcastic story... the old misty way, falling in a hand pat bag on the leaves in dryer

dark caverns or eyes poking out to see what falling into the moon. Head phones, bumping and

older sneakers like three days in. I thought about Jamal and how I lost the phone before he

could call, it happened for a reason, I guess. Thats the whole I Ching idea... What other

band? this all seemed to be coming from one vein.
Oh yeah which vein is that huh?
magic tweezers.
yeah.. I left my feet along the side counter and began rubbing kristies feet, she licked my

head and dominated me completely. I looked into her eyes and knew she would be my love

forever. my future wife. I was so childlike all of the sudden and everything came back to

me. My whole concept of life was destroyed and it didn't seem to matter anymore. If it all

just broke down to this. Funky ride was playing in the backround, it just kept going. A long

day, when I bust in tripping the fuck out and playing minutemen. My dad thought I joined a

gang I think. I've seen the people, but so what, parents don't understand. I heard that

mystical monk kid who rings the bell, sitting at the creek humming to myself. I looked up

into clear blue skies, the siren wailing like ribbons blowing in the wind. Some art shit,

thats how it is, yup. So Thor came through and said some long phrase on some trueness I

can't even begin to name. These are spirits. I left the old playhouse and saw it was a

miniature book. The path in the leaves trodden out to replace.

So it was another morning I was going along, just doing what it needed to be, everyday I

think its cool to do the same kind of thing, but do it in a different kind of way, and

eventually everything happens and its amazing. kind of...
hanging on monkey bars, I wanna
the shiny mirrors, lets touch em!
if I rub these coins in my pocket...

all over and in many travels, who is where what going? No one ever came around in ideas of

who? and pertaining to how and why? These words bear no evidence on that and so but

anarchist peace gatherings were cool in that they housed india and beirut. carry that over

the atlantic and what? weauhoapngn
and there was a fucking kid off in the corner meditating during all that. we could start a

band. see how everyone is family..

but at the same time, is this beautiful? this is what we do to fucking survive, man. this

whole world is ridiculous, so much happens and yet theres no true center, until suddenly its

there and you see it for what it is, it just goes on and on for no reason.

Everything is fucking bullshit. Theres no one, you can really trust, these people
things are just entities in your mind and yet somehow its all pure and simple. Go out and meet bears, play guitar in the woods with me, naked.
no, its okay... its alright, the world is a peaceful place.. all sentient beings! peace out!!!

 

Why?

 

thats what im trying to figure out man, why fucking why? and why why? and why why why?