All day long I had ideas that made my ears ring the Tibetan finger bowls humming, strumming, sighing the sounds sink me, the weak me, so deep into the brown.
But I float around somewhere at the same time pulling weeds from the day and tossing them over my shoulder thinking I should somehow contain them to save time, except it feels good just to fling them past my eye, smiling wide.
And taking a moment now to think back at the days start, playing it back like a momentous slow motion rewind trying to capture some idea of the near distant past.
And I just come up with the, the, the, the stammering child because the excitement is bursting out of my ears and at the same time, moving into this infinite space that will always exist, even If it was too soft to catch.
Or slower than my slow mo, like the sloth, oh the patience sometimes is south but once you can take in a big breath of life, there is something in the center of your body that feels like a bubbling warm excitement though its like that thing that sit on the tip of your tongue.

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Photo: self portrait by my son Elijah Lanikai

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