deliquesce the aching soul of a tree cries through its branches; i set myself against her trunk and backon her to speak. her weary leaves play in the night's cool air as through her a zephyr kisses: and she speaks. in a language no mortal can understand, in a fashion of which natural creatures are unsure.
such is the voice of trees. their arms sway in specific rhythms; leaves bristle in precise time. and as i hug close this magnificant matriarch i cannot help but wonder what is she trying to tell me... is it a warning, to stay away?
her shadow projects far away, standing almost to the foot of a giant tombstone dedicated to a soul long since dead. what happens on the occassion when the two meet, i wonder: is the spirit of the dead transferred to tree?
gazing upward at heaven's infinity i wonder if it's coincidence that trees are so plentiful within graveyards. trees are the silent guardians of the underworld; they connect earth and heaven with their boughs. trees are thoroughly graceful indicators of patience's conclusion: hundreds of years may pass and still a tree unblinks.
as her branches creak slightly i feel her angst underfoot. she is drawn by some unknown call to some unknown destination-- and it is there and only there that she shall find solace.
misstree wow.

(i'm not partial to tree imagery... really...)
they're all around me...
Piso Mojado and our intimacies are reduced to ghosts fragmenting in hallways 011108
bird at work appear and fade away 011108
god make your name like a ghost 011109
*~K never knew god was a syd barrett fan...
it's pretty fucken sad to be a ghost. to be always in 'was' & never in is... to see everything you ever held dear, but not be able to touch, interact.. you're out of the picture, but still...there, still watching it, aware. in the world but not of it.
what a horrible fucken fate.
dont believe shake their heads and say"if they knew what i know "?? 021117
misstree even in the midst of all this joy there is a hole, a small leakage...

on halloween night, there will be a glorious gathering of my parted darlings, and i cannot attend. i understand the reasonings, it's hard to lose yourself when there's an ex nearby, but i've lost them, all of them, and that sea of fondly familiar faces wasn't something i was ready to let go of.

i don't want to cry at work. i will set this aside and look at it again once the bleeding stops. (which, of course, causes cat power's "cross bones style" to come on. rats. that blew that.)
birds at work i can't get to sleep
i think about the implications...
call_me_lydea They live in my brain, and sometimes they tell me what to do. Not that I pay much attention, well, I try not to. To trust one's ancestors is. . . hard. 040427
treessmoke if we're going to talk ghosts, lets talk ghosts. trees are not ghost-like
trees are meant to play in, to pee on and to bear witness to our play and pee
three words hunt hmmmmmm ghosts 051008
quotree "...and the rain is full of ghosts tonight
that tap and sigh upon the glass and listen for reply
and in my heart there stirs a quiet pain
for unremembered lads who not again
will turn to me at midnight with a cry."
misstree i am slinking around the apartment like a...

...i am one. i need to talk to the dead folks.

dangerous. but i have trust.
re_alisma more_ghosts. Ghosts are scary! Whether you are a mythically hungry one or, you know, for real! 110805
mcdougall In my closet, haunts spring out, fall out, scare me
In my future, ghosts guide me
Long ago, when ghosts were living, they dreamed of futures for their futures.
Futures for their lineage
Futures without them

Now the future of ghosts is them
Ghosts continue
Continue through time
With me now, then me, with whoever is living around me, when I’m a ghost.
kerry i love this, mcdougall. 211214
dafremen -- also 211215
what's it to you?
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