About Me

trapped, grasshopper-like, in a zen garden of stalks and slanted rays, i wake up happy and it strikes me as strange. i stand and walk. bite into an apple. is this a dream? am i dead? am i waiting to be born? i wish i knew just a little bit more.. it makes this crack sound as it opens and the sun is so shiney that i have to close to my eyes as i chew it up. everything is green you know, like after the rain - these leaves and grass; my prison. ,, this is the place i have come to know. its where the asphalt gives way ... to ... grass.... slowly, ,. in turns, .. one little blade at a time. . , . . , . ,