Date: Tue, 05 Nov 1996 08:32:50 -0500 To: Carolyn L Burke
From: firstname.lastname@example.org Subject: Dreams of Kindred Swiss
the squinty eyes with which I wake; are wide enough to see
the coffee and computer switch and the brain slit
not yet so wide to make a good rhyhme.
top of the morning to you
or bottom, as it may be
remnants of a whirlwind
and promise of another
dancing and others before me
several changes at once; are necessary - to bring hope;
yet for some, nothing altered.
allowing me to speak of love and freedom. And they?
Ah. the 'snap' point.
When the caffeine tells your brain that your eyes are in fact,
open. These are not cobwebs but visions, dark ones, of dreaming
about a group of children living stories and stories underground,
for years, eating the very foundation of a house. 'Surfacing' aeons
later and sitting on the grass while reporters take photographs.
Dogs, my own, decrepit with age, dying in front of my eyes...
More Coffee, please!
bend and stretch
reach for the stars...
How much a product would Mrs.Harwood say I am now?
She would like Ramona, I know she would.
But these dreams must go.
Is it in your accent? Your voice? Your height, perhaps?
Is it the way you dress? Maybe it's your hair, or the expression on your face...Maybe it's in fact, none of these things. It's you. It's how you feel. It's what you are thinking, and your inescurities, uncertainties in what you do. Fueled by your desire to do good: to please. Giving and generous. See what you are for a moment. Oh, relax. Try to stop those eight hundred thoughts going thru your head every nanosecond. Focus, as they say. Your intensity is beautiful.