FALLING IN LOVE Love Bill Kicking a ball, driving in a cloud, words that fall in a certain way, then there is the beginning. The Chaos. The intent. The movement over, and past.. whatever obsesses one affects the human matter of being. btw, Where's my arm? Oh, it's in the tool pile.. never mind, where's the future.. in the rock face is the god of the moment.. the resident moment putting aside the obsessions of work or to consume and dine or fears that make me an anti-market maven everything saves me from everything except moderation..when I realize did the garden grow..where's the garden get the camera and go look oh what wonder is the moon a dot in the eye still amazing it seems my eye settling to earth in a moment of vision common sense is beneath my feet, the curl of cord the tree half alive we struggle together a neighborhood cat suddenly left without a home the joy on the faces of a long ago past softly the air breaths contentment, a gentle waterfall no splashes only a gurgle, I look up and see me ccopy far afield from my longterm home in Maine, the items and objects of daily family life become amusing and even beautiful, these absorb me so Joshua Tree. Finally the desert beckoned me unto myself.. Inter-relationships are the seas of life, the rock the light the distance these are the see of lie, juxtaposed saturated wandered around even day by day different, endless confirmations of ideas and thought are suggested in this new territory, with the seas one revels in what one sees, purely not narrative or news only that which undoes what before confused. Garnering justice in an unjust world, predominance reignites injustice by matter of familiarity. When I came to Joshua Tree I expected expectations, only to find expectations were not to be expected. What I didn't expect was the rock.. That which was obvious was no more thoughts digressing into mayhem, the rock served the purpose to get me out of me, to see the shape as it engaged my eye, to look at astonishing sculpture of natural foundation, and by seeking the warmth of gratitude, the intensity and heat of concentration, the pure light within. One begins to hate the transport, the getting out to involve in the depth, and then, the vehicle of movement transported all inspiration into a continuous dream, if only the magic carpet ride was real and floating past nature a streaming dream.. The matter at hand is both a tripod for stability and the realization that all answers are here to be seen and understood, to the questions you do not even know or contemplate, for the forms of the desert the rocks the light are really only the forms from the seas of emotion, holding still between moments the the eternal moment, for one to dally in harvest and find immense joy and contentment. discontinuous dreams lie about in the swagger of entropy, a western town looks like a ghost town after a sea of sand washed down from the hills, and below near Palm Springs, a gateway of wind is dressed to capture kilowatts..