stonetosser.com

The little wisps of thought come.
Echoing on the air
hinting of

something.

Suggested dreams present,
wavering outside,
only known
through
practiced
ignorance.

To focus is to lose them.
Counterintuitive of
the rational mind
Tasty resonance
for the
spirit.

~Elf 384

(c) 2008 StoneTosser
Originally Posted on LiveJournal 2008

One moment I am happy, the next I am in heaven.


Perched on theline between land and sea, floating among little color cups, blatts ofhue, reaching skyward on delicate tendrils of green, seeking the sunthat will not shine until morning... I am writing. Yes! Me!  Writing!Words. Images. Thoughts. Feelings. It's drivel, of course, just theelves out on vacation to play, but it feels so good.

The sky ismisty over my head, the foggy air swallowing great tree limbs thatreach above the flowers, sucking them into the gray beyond, pullingthem into the space above the ocean that laps upon giant jewels andtiny stones both. That's when I feel the sky descend to touch my handsas they anchor my fingers clicking on the keyboard. Just littlesparkles of water touching so softly, a whisper of the moisturesurrounding me, deigning to land on my skin. A kiss. A welcome.

Beingme, I try to capture this moment, the second in time I was welcomed toearth by the sky and encouraged to fly once more. And here the wordssit, cuddled together for me to find again someday when i want thememory, the flavor of this experience. What will it taste like next?

I think I'll post pictures just in case.

Originally posted to LiveJournal in 2008

Is there really such thing as Inspiration? I feel like its ghost visited me sometime past. I have memories of it. The whirl of energy sweeping before it left me giddy and perched so high that crawling down was a frightening thing. Why didn't I just let myself fall? If I ever get the chance again I shall fall so happily that wings might sprout and lift me on air to soar. Or crash. Even that would be fun I think.

If Inspiration IS out there still, it's forgotten me in its rush to someone worthy of its gifts. Life goes on and washes me with it along the halls and street corners of my day. And weeks pass and I've gone nowhere. Well, I have, but in this little corner of my brain those travels are not so interesting. Other lands await this corner where the elves live. Other lands....

Must prepare for the dinner guests. Interesting people we've known for years and see not nearly enough.  I will enjoy them.

But the elves... they don't want to make dinner, catch up on others' lives and sip wine as we shoo the mosquitoes away. They want to explore other lands tonight. Except that when I come back to them as the moonsliver hangs in the sky, they will be all curled up around each other, the big burly ones snuggled around the little scribblets, protecting them from the darkness that comes each night to suck the energy from my bones, pulling me down into such welcome oblivion.

Maybe tomorrow. Other lands don't go away; they lie under the same sun. Maybe tomorrow I shall take my walking stick and explore, seeking the elusivity of inspiration under a few stones along the way.

Or not.

I can imagine it, though.

Originally posted on LiveJournal in 2008

Where did the elves go? They were right here a minute ago. I hear them, but they won't come out to play. I would pout but I don't have time. I am so frustrated I could spit. Except that I have no time. The elves whisper that I have no time for them so they don't come out to play.

Time is supposed to be fungible and expanding, a trick of space as it warps and undulates around and under us. Why can't we slide into the troughs of space and find the time we need for - everything? Wouldn't that be exciting? To slip and slide through time as space falls out from beneath us and ribbons up, snapping us to fly through time until another ribbon catches us and swirls us around centrifugally until it, too, tires of us (or us of it) and flings us into another gravitational field for sport? I can see us now, passing on our flights of fancy, high fiving and waving as we tumble in the darkness filled with light from a thousand suns, back to where we began so we can do it all over again the right way, or do something completely different just for the hell of it. *waves* Is it fair that only dreaming physicists can see these tricks of the matter and emptiness around us? I think not. I would like to petition the universe to give poets that ability as well.

*petitions*

*silence abounds*

Guess what I got is what I got for today.

Time's up. Back to work.

Originally posted on LiveJournal in 2008

....let the tide wash by me. I no longer fight it, hoping only to stand my
ground.

I'm speaking of email, of course. So many email addresses, so many
identities to maintain. They are all me and so they remain.

And yet I am overwhelming myself with myself.

But I like it. I like the connections...

(originally posted on LiveJournal in 2008)