Patrick JohnsonI stood outside in at the corner
of my house where my favorite
tree bows heavy with thick green
while two birds fought behind me
two slashes of white and blue
while the clouds hung heavy in the sky
promising a flooded basement
I could hear you run your scales
diligently and slowly
as you do
every single day
and I know
though we've never met
that if either of us
ever left
I'd miss you
there are two ways to go about this first be quiet and let it sit deep on the inside while you stay passive so it forms a cancer in your throat that ruins all that is good or second take what it is sh
it's all held together by the golden ratio holy shapes the bees know this mundane thing becomes more than gods or purpose it becomes a miracle every waking moment constantly moving with an invisible d
standing outside on the walk with the heavy bag straining at the weight of used up material I could feel the heat of the sun coming through my thin shoes while the evening dark came on through the ope