November 6th, 2009:

“I believe in you my soul . . . . the other I am must not abase itself to you

And you must not be abased to the other.

Loafe with me on the grass . . . . loose the stop from your throat,

Not words, not music or rhyme I want . . . . not custom or lecture, not even the best,

Only the lull I like, the hum of your valved voice.”

I have posted this passage because that was how I felt in that very moment. I wanted

to lose myself in the grass, to stop breathing and thinking for a single moment, to

shake off all the barriers and limitations of everyday life restraining me, suffocating

me.  I wanted to “loose the stop from my throat” and listen to the lull of my soul.

I wanted to be that poppy, alone and silent, holding myself on that tiny stem against

the threatening sky.

“I believe in you my soul . . . . the other I am must not abase itself to you

And you must not be abased to the other.

Loafe with me on the grass . . . . loose the stop from your throat,

Not words, not music or rhyme I want . . . . not custom or lecture, not even the best,

Only the lull I like, the hum of your valved voice.”

I have posted this passage because that was how I felt in that very moment. I wanted

to lose myself in the grass, to stop breathing and thinking for a single moment, to

shake off all the barriers and limitations of everyday life restraining me, suffocating

me.  I wanted to “loose the stop from my throat” and listen to the lull of my soul.

I wanted to be that poppy, alone and silent, holding myself on that tiny stem against

the threatening sky.

“I believe in you my soul . . . . the other I am must not abase itself to you

And you must not be abased to the other.

Loafe with me on the grass . . . . loose the stop from your throat,

Not words, not music or rhyme I want . . . . not custom or lecture, not even the best,

Only the lull I like, the hum of your valved voice.”

I have posted this passage because that was how I felt in that very moment. I wanted

to lose myself in the grass, to stop breathing and thinking for a single moment, to

shake off all the barriers and limitations of everyday life restraining me, suffocating

me.  I wanted to “loose the stop from my throat” and listen to the lull of my soul.

I wanted to be that poppy, alone and silent, holding myself on that tiny stem against

the threatening sky.

“I believe in you my soul . . . . the other I am must not abase itself to you

And you must not be abased to the other.

Loafe with me on the grass . . . . loose the stop from your throat,

Not words, not music or rhyme I want . . . . not custom or lecture, not even the best,

Only the lull I like, the hum of your valved voice.”

I have posted this passage because that was how I felt in that very moment. I wanted

to lose myself in the grass, to stop breathing and thinking for a single moment, to

shake off all the barriers and limitations of everyday life restraining me, suffocating

me.  I wanted to “loose the stop from my throat” and listen to the lull of my soul.

I wanted to be that poppy, alone and silent, holding myself on that tiny stem against

the threatening sky.

“I believe in you my soul . . . . the other I am must not abase itself to you

And you must not be abased to the other.

Loafe with me on the grass . . . . loose the stop from your throat,

Not words, not music or rhyme I want . . . . not custom or lecture, not even the best,

Only the lull I like, the hum of your valved voice.”

I have posted this passage because that was how I felt in that very moment. I wanted

to lose myself in the grass, to stop breathing and thinking for a single moment, to

shake off all the barriers and limitations of everyday life restraining me, suffocating

me.  I wanted to “loose the stop from my throat” and listen to the lull of my soul.

I wanted to be that poppy, alone and silent, holding myself on that tiny stem against

the threatening sky.