dreams_lie_in_wait_beneath_the_melting_snow ever dumbening Down the street wideness the lights all ripen in concert, green globes of hanging fruit, of possibility. Just another one of those spring nights in California, where sweet jasmine and osmanthus put the heart squarely in charge. I don't need to wait for the planets to align. The harmonic convergence of a few thoughts and words and scents and streetlights will suffice. And again I find myself softening, trying to soften to the voice of all things and non-things. Tonight is says: Totem of Eyes. It says Rain-Shined Stones. And Photos From Japan. And again, Stones. Yield. And then Strike. It's really all about belief. But not in some external granter of needs and wants—no, because we are he. Simply in the concrete knowledge that the dream _is_ the reality. Why else would the words of Helen Keller leap from the radio, right when they were supposed to? "Avoiding danger is no safer in the long run than outright exposure. The fearful are caught as often as the bold" 030601 ... . . 050518 what's it to you? who go blather from