Thursday, May 6, 2010

the doors of perception

Awakening from a daze, I find myself on foot in the Arroyo, again. Am I pushing further and further to find this place of transition, as in an addiction, or am I finding deeper thresholds to pass through? Over worked, my legs ache. The spring sun is intense ā€“ unadjusted, winter hide still browning, Iā€™m blasted. Out of place, a desert sky hangs, still, above this tilted alluvial plain between my mountains and the Pacific. Doldrums between uncertain seasons ā€“ a strange emptiness lingers ā€“ like a ghost town, the doors of the tavern hang open, no wind or man to swing them. The earth and sky waiting on eternity.

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