mjbwriting

Intend. Intense. Attend. Attention. To hear. To see. To know. To wait. And wait upon. Service. To turn towards. Tune into. It and we and you and we and them. And all of it. Me myself and I together and apart to gather. I gather. Understand. The pleasure of a stretch of time and effort moving moved and meaningfully meaningful. I reckon and express and feel. A rapture rapt and rupture happily sometimes as well. Removed and now again be moved. Moving into it. A solid too too solid and dissolving flesh a flash. A dew. Adieu. I do. Thank you. You may now kiss the bride. The beloved and intended. ‘Till death do you part. Imparted imported exported. Breathing. Into it. Out of it entirely. Blessed be it then.

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Enough of it. Going to be going on. The ridge. Teeter on the precipice. Count on it. Don’t count on it. Hope for it at your peril. Active. Passive. Exchanging.
Hard soft careful waiting. Pay attention. Not too much attention. If you don’t want to tell me fine. Because something could go wrong. And it likely will. Appreciate the blessings.

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Math. Apparently a language. Foundation. Go to the trance. Silver white light prevailing. The dying life. Sunset consciousness. Look long at what you cannot capture with a camera. Maybe painting the idea. Enter into it. Between kith and kin.

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Timeslip period location. During the night. A time warp. Bad weather in the east. Small streets. Which way is west? Towards old halls serving hard labor workers beer and soup for change. Tender scene when two touch cheek to cheek. In the midst of all that traffic.

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Something to do is not done. Heed your hat head. You are only you are. Reading this discovery. I wrote it just for you. Do you stand within it. The call. Of the wild and free. Space of time tide divide. The hour is ours. Multiplied by something.

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In the sun. Christmas but it’s late. Trumpets and the smell of mushrooms. Go into the direct physical sensation. The way it’s done. Getting out of shape. Bent all out.
So many times. The lights left on overnight. The gates are open. Approaching the eschatological Indian with a front seat view. While I have my coffee.
Humour to the rescue. The day after it was released. Assessment. Reading the crumbs on the table like tea leaves. Coffee grounds. Leavings. Crumb bum.
Setting unfamiliar. To imagine what you don’t know. Why not. Focusing on something. Maybe it is anything again. Where the accent is. The emphasis. Validated by your staring.
Read that back to me in paint. Currency of the electric sun dancing. Up and at ’em. Be bop. The answer to the question not asked.

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mjbwriting

mjbwriting

I am mjboyce, author of 2 novels: Monkey & Anderson (Pedlar Press). Working on my 3rd novel & a book of poetry (sort of). I also make photos & music.