Alone,

I am in my most pleasant state when my hands are at work in a room alone. The goals of physical work so short sighted and so easy to fulfill, your mind has no where else to go but into higher thought. I think and laugh and enjoy the life which I live. I look at myself in the the mirror and find myself appealing, a body which has accomplishment on his face, dirt on his hands. The movement of painting or sanding or scrubbing, is the same as saying om for me, a respite from the trivialities that cause so much grief and mental energy. I would be more than happy to work; building new and cleaning old.
---my life dream---

I have seen the great mountains of the west,
understood the beauty of the shore,
felt alone but one of this earth in the never ending fields of corn,
I have spent time in bars where there are legacies as old as the stools,
reading what there is to read, but never having read it all.
I want home,

I am a midwest boy.

I meet with love and she moves in,
only us too,
her and I,
we fall asleep to a fire,
I can work, in the backyard,
and she has too many thoughts of her own to care,
and we fall asleep to a fire,
and I die, after her, to feel death before I go,
and to leave, with whatever left behind meaning as little as when I started.

XoXo
Gossip Girl