the_river translucent the river... so beautiful... land of the naked... uncomfortable for sex attempts. 010921 ... bruce springsteen we'd ride down there, you know. or dive into it. the point is, we drove there. cars are cool. 010921 ... tree of many tribes i really don't like to do this, to be this, to feel this so deep and so tired, but once again rope's end has found me and run me out of movement. once again i sit, head hung low, and shake my head at all that passes, the corner of a smile not bitter, against all odds. but here i am again, this rock by a river, the moon split into a million by the passing of steamboats. here i am again, still feeling, gentler than then, shell turned to bone. but still it aches. i haven't really visited here since i left; there's been a lot of sleeping to do, i apologize. but you're just glad to see me again. i was just a pebble next to you, aquatic artery, a visitor like so many, but you always made me feel special. so here i am again, and i don't quite know what to say. it's hit me again, all the crazy passions that drove me to you in the first place, all the chipped bones the thougts take hold of and worry at, teeth grining, cluttering my quiet. that's one of the things i've always loved best about you. you hid just behind a corner from cacaphony, a step and a mile away. the sloshy slapping as you danced with the rocks was like a heartbeat, the gentle rise and fall of a chest underneath my head. you always let me rest next to you. i guess that's why i'm here again. because i need to rest, because my heart is out of shape for such athletics, and because you always soothed me when my breath became ragged. i never edited myself with you. elsewhere everything makes itself important, demands its own gravity, and i forget that nothing really matters. nothing but me and you, tree and blue. you're the one i always loved. even before i met you, i craved you, dreamt of you. you were my constant, my own before all others, the rest of me. you are where i have always gone, and will always return. time is pulling me back to its unkind traffic. i don't want to leave, but to make you trite would kill you, to carry too much here would pollute and poison you. so, farewell for now, beloved body, dancing luminescent smears, busy buildings distanced and voices hushed. i will see you again, rocky perch and private corner, gliding breeze to caress my cares, carry them back to their homes. farewell, for now. and thank you, for everything. 030906 ... misstree fan one of the finest pieces of writing i've read here - borne of earth spirit - rapturous and rustic 030906 ... misstree i almost didn't post this here... almost didn't make it identifiable... makes it easier to write, sometimes... but thank you. *blush* 030906 ... the river You know I will always wash away the grime accumulated by travelling rough paths. You know you can always float on my currents when your own is too much. Who needs times far gone and times to come when we have the currency of the current? I always liked the playful way your roots lapped about before drinking me in. As I rush by, timeless, forever changing and static as only water is, I shhhhhhhh away the noise I can hear seeping into the babblings of my carefree passing. And soon your mind, too, is flowing down the currents of freedom and play And like reflections of moonlight, you flit sparkling and free, how you can always be. 030908 ... misstree is it any wonder that people throw things into rivers like flowers, old letters, photographs, any thought or memory that they need to part with and sever themselves from? the river will cradle it, carry it gently far, far away, out of sight, out of mind, and will yet remain there with you, murmuring ancient melody as witness to its passing. 030908 ... oldephebe you're welcome misstree - like i said you're voice was almost instantaneuos recognizable - what with all the wiccan and earth spirit evocations ... 030909 ... a individual clone in the mass of same my, it has been a while. so many new blatherskites... i hardly visit blue any more. to crowded... i still remember when it was rare to have to scroll to the bottom. much is different, much is the same. peace and pleasure translucent subterenean visions good people lotuseater 031113 ... misstree gentle flowing body, i would like to carry with me the smallest scent of your peace. sparks are striking on stone again, revelling fires burn, and i'm afraid of forgetting to close my eyes and sink and let you tangle my hair and caress my skin. ripple like the flesh of snakes. i need your serenity. i will remember. 040130 ... misstree hi there again. it's me again. i didn't think i'd need to come back for a long time, things were going so well. but i kinda hit a brick wall. mind if i sit? i really need to get this out, and i'm not sure what kind of state i'll be in by the end of it. though i know it's filthy, i think that for just a few minutes, i need to lay back and rest myself on your rocks, take a deep breath and just try to let go. you'll wash all this away, won't you? you've taken worse. i just don't know why this brand is so sticky. but here--let me begin to spill my cup of blood, vomit, and tears. such a hard decision. there is no decision involved, though, which is the only thing that's saving me. i can't twitch like this. i remember what happened the last time i came across her archetype, and i'm just flat out not willing to go there again, and i'm not willing to interfere with His other activities. so, the only thing left to me, is to step away. it will be shit. it will hurt. i will bitch and moan and sting and ache, and it will take so very much energy to keep beating down the part of me that wants him to say, "no, don't leave," but i have to, because i can't let it be conscious for this. because the opposing archetype is so complete. because of the obsessive seething rage. because no matter what the cost, i willnot cannot go there again. but it gets better. if this were all, i could sever and be done. but that would be too easy. daddy darling is in town, and i promised her proper revelry, and the hunting partner is part of many of those plans. i cannotcannotcannotcannotcannot continue with this obsessive rage, but i need to sever properly, but i need to stay solid through this. so there will be a severing, and there will still be tuesday and wednesday and friday and sunday, but it will be from emotional lockdown, it will be icky and tough as shit, but anything, *anything*, is better than the seething. i don't know what i'm doing here, my darling river. all i'm doing is pouring salt into you, but i suppose it needs to come out somehow. i can't ask you for strength; that's all me. but can i ask, if things really get hairy, will you sparkle and shimmer for me, show me where the bridge watches over the smeared lights of the west bank, ruffle my hair and slish-slap at the rocks with the passing of a steamboat? i think that i may need you close at hand through this. i think that if i can draw into you, i can manage. i think that i would like to curl up and sleep here, just for a bit, but the cops come by and don't take kindly. i love you, my darling miss, and thanks for taking that cup. i've got a little more free to carry myself with now, and i know i will need it. 040202 what's it to you? who go blather from