The Arrival of Departure

dam up that sweet ice cream river
sell it to the villagers
sculp a temple to the luscious figure of the queen--
a sight, a smell of the dulce each day in pay--
on your knees for the churning of your heart.
your face buried in the sand if you can't stand the beauty.
when the clock strikes doce.
"the back" is back. sweet Mary Moses.
radiance reflects from inner skin.
floats across the water in flowing garb
form and function to make dogs whine.
divine and demure.
the hour draws near
when the crowd anticipates
the arrival of departure.

Dear Bee...

Dear Bee Outside of My Window,

Image by Lydia Elle - barely flickring :( via Flickr

I thank you for coming to see me. I thank you for the transference of thought. From you to me, I sense the fact that you are lost. When you saw your reflection in my window, I knew that you, if only for a brief second, recognized yourself and thought that you were home.

You thought you were home, that is, until you received what thought I sent to you; your journey is far from over, but you must continue for there is no time to linger on my sill. The time that you have to find your destination is much shorter than mine--days compared to years--so you must be on your way.

I know that the contemplative sounds of Radiohead in this temporary world that I've constructed for myself are what brought you here, intuitively on both of our parts. No coincidence in manner, but a calling for that moment of transference that I previously mentioned. Thank you for listening and heeding the call. There was purpose.

And now, we can both be on our way, each to our Queen--and her true love.

Safe journey,
B