nearly a decade of words shared...

and yet i'm still constantly delighted by his writing.

i am determined that my unborn babies, when they find their way across three ethereal kingdoms, have their pre-life brief with a white bearded prophet under an olive-tree, get squished into a germinal cell and spend alot of time playing geometry exercises with their own body (EXERCISE: divide thyself in perfect halves approximately 18 billion times using only the intuitive sense of nature... and a protractor) spend nine-months tapping I AM TIRED OF BACH in Morse code on the inside of their mother's belly (while she and unborn.baby complain to me about yet another cantata), and finally come out too-red of their aquatic stale-mate, still more mermaid than man, crying and genetically predisposed to despise bright-white-lights (fluorescent or otherwise), will have several single-digit years to walk besides me with too-small steps i will never tire of watching her take, will hold my right hand with their left (holding a white wand with her right), wearing: tutu, tights, protruding belly, and compulsory wings, so that she will not forget her home before her home was the color of clouds, and had the smell of jasmine, and in heaven wherever you walk you hear the crunch of soft-white-rocks under your feet for reasons you won't know till you've endured being human once.