The Muse is Still Awake

The Muse no longer lives in Bielefeld.  She moved out of another's body and returned to mine.  The Muse lives in Herford with the writer, the sculptor, the photographer, the nature lover.  The Muse lives in me and I am the Muse.


Which is just my way of saying, I don't need external inspiration, although it's nice to have.  Being completely alone with the exception of waiters and waitresses and cafes full of strangers, I've remembered where the fantasy lies.  

More about Sundays

aside from the obligatory walk

there is also coffee and cake

both are more enjoyable

when in the company of someone you care about

as it stands

as I stand

there is no one to walk with

and the coffee comes without cake

at the cafe

meaning and its opposite

man lost in mind's gelatinous bog

mind lost in man's diaphanous fog

field, forest, cafe

workshop, living room,kitchen

these are my world

as for friends,

i have my knives, my chisels,

my wood, and my words

a portrait

without a face

time heals all.....not always

there are certain types of wounds that can't be healed by time without a catalyst. I use writing, walking, and wood carving to pull me out of musings and mental meanderings that can lead me to that never never land of could have been....

After four months, she is still in memory when I am not at work.