JimCheekUniverse

I’m suggesting I monitor my thought Which ones are sweet? Which ones are not?

Do they serve me Or do they hinder Do they wander On and on aimlessly?

I pick a thick juicy thought And focus on just that Then I go to bat To disarm the bot

Grunt Lift and Squeeze With Firmness Please

Honor And Enjoy The Sweet Smell Of Clean Sweat

Engage Your Core Your House of Power Feel the Sore In the Coming Hours

Juices Rise And Fall and Rise

Vigorous Flex For Joy Health

Why did she go when she did? So many good changes So many conquered demons

I guess It was just the time

She won All the right battles No more left to fight On to the next life

I can only read a little poetry My cup fills up so fast I read only nutritious verse Considering opportunity cost

Often just one line And I’m full to the brim I slowly savor and digest The short, tight hymn

You came in dancing When I could only sit You love me with vigor And joy, so lit

April birds Sing bright on the wing Sprouts up-coming With hope they bring

I feel the heat immediately From so far away I squint my eyes And bow my head

The shadows from the trees I find respite within The rocks are warming up The river-fish swim

Rising to the top

Magma builds and waits

For the right time

Open Wide and Free and Clear Grace enters In The Cosmic Ear

Out comes Soul And Feeling And Rhythm And Cheer

Daddy tried a front flip Off the board and into the deep Almost landed on his fucking back All OK no injury

What do you like most? Is it Sun or Rain? Is it Love or Pain? Morning? Night? Dark? Or Light?

Whatever it is It’s yours

And mine Is mine

Short, sweet and deep Where heart and persona meet

Back where I belong And from whence I came Smells and swells and seaweed Waves to ride and tame

I feel the cold through my suit But I am not cold Ice buckets in my face Erasing dust and old

I offered her my name My life My mind My body And all my days left

She accepted with a nod And I smiled so wide So lucky and chill I hold on

Light and firm We share our son Eyes of hers

And hair of mine Heart of both

Are you warm enough? Is there anything I can do? I will make you something to eat Something you love, and easy to chew

Of all the days I have left Of which I hope there are quite a few I will make sure you’re fed And do what I can do

A silk Persian prayer rug. Hues of pale yellow and light blue. Some oranges and browns, and cotton fringe on the ends.

Lisa bought it at an estate sale for very little. The owner was a Japanese flight attendant who bought many nice things on her travels, and they were all for sale.

She had committed suicide. There was a stain on the rug.

The stain wasn’t very big, but it was there. We took it to a rug shop to have it cleaned

The stain didn’t come out. We asked what the stain might be. The shop guy couldn’t say. Was it blood? He couldn’t say for sure. Maybe coffee.

Maybe, he said.

Wandering through the firs and huge stones in my head Trails I’ve seen and some I’ve not I come upon a shroomy stump Cold, wet, and full of rot

The rot is made of time, decay, love and fear All ingredients in one place, damp and near

Yesterdays are here Future is here too Right now is in the mix Time, a heady stew

Thinking of minutes, hours, days and years Helps getting through this life Illusions help the moment