there never is a time
   to be done
with all that needs
   to be done
nor would i want to
find myself at the end
   point where all
possibilities collapse

i've been told
being empty
  is superior.
having loud tangles
bird vines and species
flying in orbits
is stress full

yet i have found
the trick feeling
when to pluck out
  and where ever
  things emerge
a piece of an answer
  (or question)
to fling out off
where a bird's eye
view might catch
  a treat

the blue rectangle buzzes
and dings information right
into my mind without reading
anything i carry it with me
always close to keep me
feeling like i belong
when noone is even there

better the body
tells the mind
  to sleep
than the mind
forcing its way
in pointless circles
to find some peace

feet feel flat pavement
like hard truths that get you
from here, to there fast
over time, painfully jarred
up the legs and hips

but the change out off the edge
into rough dirt, moss, soft
ridges and rocks to slip on
messily nudges all up in
bounces lifting up, up along
those green bounding feats