through north windows the blue sky echoes into the room.

Every pane wide open and the keys resound for the stranger.

the songs for a lost generation, a dreamer of dreams, a believer.

(Down the street, a hand presses to lips with a cigarette, distant eyes.)

Money? But this is breathing. This is sighing. Thinking out loud.

It's fingertips kissing through a window. Don't price that.

There's no replication, no recreation of this tonally-wrestled resolution.

What a language, rarely found.

Electricity burnishes the notes;

More clearly than eyes, speak the resonant chords.

but the system remembers the noise.

The veil of song is heavy.

How can I say such simple things like

'I care about you'

when we've lost our frames of reference for undemanding sentiment?

Who would know that's exactly what I mean and nothing more?

The frame of reference was the village.

The language of familiarity.

Unspoken rules had meaning when formed by generational experience.

Care is such a fright--

and assuring nods unsure.

Because habits of understatement

make sincere words sinister;

they call repetition pretension.

Now each person is an island

No way to know if the next Galapagos has evolved as far.

Skies are shared, but who knows what a white flag means

when everyone is their own country.

(if that diamond ring turns brass,

Mama's gonna buy you a looking glass)

We fought off our limits, talked away authority but

forgot to complete the liberty for all with unlimited amnesty.

So it's safer by far to stay home

speaking the language of pretty tones.

In subjectivity is not so much freedom

but a blurry judicial safety.

Teaching little E.T.'s fiction

"Why aren't you friends with any Earthtones?" I asked her.

"I can't talk to them."

"Not even Tanner?"

She looked scared. "No."

"But he talks to you."

"I know. And he's nice. But I can't go talk to him."

"Do you know why not?"

"Pthalo's always there."

"Pthalo?" I laughed. "I don't think he's interested in her."

"And Navy."

I laughed again.

"My dear... there's something you must understand about nice Earthtones. Imagine for a moment, a desert island on which live some nice, unassuming Earthtones. Put on that island some nice, unassuming Waterhues. In a perfect world, those nice Earthtones will go about their lives, and find a nice Waterhue to share life with. Now let's tweak that island... Let's have the exact same scenario, but let's add some Waterhues to the scene who are not unassuming. By that I mean, these are Waterhues who think they are more likely to be 'chosen' if they ingratiate themselves to the Earthtones. That is our world. The most respectable of Earthtones will often have a Waterhue or two at his side wanting the rest of the world thinking they are his special Waterhue. Part of his niceness is treating those Waterhue with the same respect he would treat the unassuming Waterhue.

However, unlike the unsavory Earthtone in his circumstances, this one forms no particular connection with those willing Waterhues. But, as I said, such Waterhues wouldn't mind others thinking so. That brings me to my point: remember, my dear: for every nice Earthtone worth talking to, there will be Waterhues near him trying to warn you off what they think to be their property. Don't be too hard on them, nor let them cause you to disrespect the Earthtone to whom they cling. They are doing their best to show off their prowess at being Complements. Pthalo and Navy may really like Tanner. But you cannot let their unrequited possessiveness hinder you from a good old-fashioned friendship."

The Counselor

What do my dreams mean?

Time goes much slower in dream world.  So on a work morning, one five-minute snooze is like half an hour of dreams.  It always seems like a worthy investment to sleep another minute.

While I consciously consider running home to be with my family, I find myself dreaming a powerful urge to take a trip across the world.

Wouldn't it be nice if we had access to reliable, certain answers to the meaning of our dreams?

But ultimately that would lead to as much trouble as having reliable access to knowledge of the future, I suspect.  Very problematic.

So I trust the Lord's silence.  Sometimes the questions raised in our minds are better life-answers than answers.

Evening

Mmmm...
basking.
Long work days, flying by.  Tearing around, until relaxing becomes an accomplishment.
My sisters are watching the second Anne of Green Gables movie, and the scenery is golden and familiar-feeling.