a drip or two

As if a beam of light sprayed from above, bob


I live somewhere over there, I can't see my window but I can see my building.


ever into empty steps toward inner space/ must clear the path of obstructions and leave/ a clean impression on territory never examined


where is the beauty the icon of imagery tries to define and if it's not made of the elements arranged within empty then it must be part of the enquiring mind seeking a sense of happy


repetition inures objects repeated make references unnoticed as shape turns to symbol


once you see the force being resisted and feel the pressure placed on each object and discover what is similar between the lines of each bird you will feel the breeze lift and draw you into empty


each drop of rain starts a reaction with the surface for expression and each dissipation embodies the essence of the original within the flow of stream and affects the sound across the plane where other waves encounter and create a harmony as sounds vibrate