Week 40-22 - Haibuno

3 October 2022

Reading spooky books
reverberate with prowess
fear reality

Just when you think it is over, it isn't. Plain and simple. The miscommunication blues are a rampant and highly medicated epidemic of weariness and loneliness. Act, react, and spontaneously combust. A dumpster fire of rotted manure. Adults don't want their lives, kids don't want their lives, no one thought about the consequences in the beginning, and everyone suffers. Therapy addiction due to the rudderless nothingness of lack of community. The vibes are not good. The lies we tell ourselves have leached over into meat space at an alarming pace. There is no alarm, because the four-alarm fire keeps ringing day in and day out. On the other hand, nature keeps minding its own business trying to adapt to the insanity of humanity. And mate. Children of children of children waiting out the inevitable indictment as prelude to destiny.

4 October 2022

fog river flowing
Rio Grande frees its secrets

Are you bubble-wrapped in norms with an unbending fealty? Do you have an obdurate commitment to your traditions? Are you a subversive thought experiment where hand-wringing and fussiness matter? Are you the antithesis of the social circus that surrounds you? Do you do donkeywork formulaically? Is your placidity anomalous, deliberate, or utterly repressed? Do you incite a scrupulous examination of facts and not a bow to deterrence of 'there may be worse to come'? Are you pugnacious enough, or not so much? Do you fear living a debilitated life of mental torpor? Have you mythologized yourself? Your friends? Your family? Do you heed the drumbeat of beware? Things will happen. Is your future murky, foggy, misty, or just flowing?

5 October 2022

Desert dew descends
all day rain and wispy fogs
first snow on mountains

I vacation with friends every day just outside my door. This morning it was a tiny lizard who laid low and raised all of its toes to dance in the air. The other day it was one with a blue nub growing in where it's tail had been. Yesterday it was a tarantula on a mission who didn't have time to stop and chat. The joy of someone new feeling like a miracle.

6 October 2022

Checking hot water
setting up free library
achieving comfort

The sage is dancing again casting off this years seeds and getting leaner. Winter is right around the corner. Can we keep life recognizable and fresh when everything is moving at the pace of a slime-laden slug? Mixing misery with miraculous to release the one giant sneeze of the day. A dazzling tower in the desert swaying our way giving light giving life. The cat sits over my shoulder and creeps. Collecting, redistributing, sowing, surrendering our way through fall. Head down deep in book marveling the past. The way it was isn't the way it is. The bad bitches said no, propelling themselves into brave disobedience. A sparkling full moon through the spider web. Shadows dancing across the land. A deep silence. There is a certain melancholia that comes with spooky season, the flip-side of the anticipation of summer breezes.  We are still looking for a pumpkin or two.

7 October 2022

Flowery language
distraction with metaphor
pernicious detract

You can tell the time by the tears falling. The old hurts bubble up from nowhere in particular. You can't help yourself. The past is the past, there's no making it up. Except to give it a value in tears. Sorry world. Hope your mistakes are not repeated. Batting eyes at charming neighbors, admiring physicality and spirit. Bigness in tomorrow on my feet and greeting. Open arms. Open heart. Open soul. They will either give a damn, or they will not. Pay attention. That's the way it is. Too much time, too many distractions.

8 October 2022

New age sycophants
under the influence of
narcissistic haze

The wave snuck in and derailed the mission. One person was supposed to keep their eyes open, another was to lose their senses. As ones leave, the others roll into a new beat. We take off and sail through the winds of change. Waiting. Quiet. Hearing the same old same ole. At the beginning there was time and a half. The new motion of emotion instantly off line. I can dream of a new future, or I can do a new future. Either way the way is doing, and i'm never going to stop asking questions. The next sneaker wave brings ashore a stumbling white ball flying true. It's sucked to the surface and grasping for oxygen. The patch reef holds its secrets close to the heart - wide-eyed, and bushy tailed. We fathom it will fathom a swap back and forth before it is desiccated. Of love and liquid. Another exciting night at the artsy grandma cabin is enough to startle the writer back to black.

9 October 2022

A detour ahead
feeling like it's all half-assed
Maneuver away

Sweet, she serenades me. The itch cast in stone turned to black overnight. The wish is this. A sudden stumble into the quiet night. Sullen. Outcast. Broken by dreads and dreams of former glory. I don't suppose you'll be beyond the measure. Of the fiddle and the laugh. The scratch of jokes that make no sense and nibs that stick. The dimensions that indicate direction. The dip is less. What do we make of it exactly? I'm surprised the secret knowledge of boy meeting boy meeting girl meeting wo/man is not widely known. Her mother watches and waits. The fulfillment of a hundred dreams always right around the corner. The eyes grow droopy and wide. They try to remember the small bliss inherent in shut. So many pages left behind blank and silent. The uptight maniacs run through the right of way to the wolves. Wild wild life. The facile and the few breaking the bounds that beat the barley. A lot is riding on the wild boar that breaks the back of the one wielding the knife. The one breaking faith. The night is most definitely not right about it sweetly serenading.

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Jamie Larson