lying

flat on your back
on the right side
on the left side
on the belly
on the altar
in the road
on the roadside
in the sun
in a ditch
on the sidewalk
on a park bench
in the sand
by the river
to yourself


It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

vagary

To dream a dream and it seems like life. When I wake it starts to seem impossible. Why does the dream world fill all the places that create doubt when awake.

It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

Cain offers God bitten fruit

Cut above the roots. After death it will be on display. Dressed up and adorned with trinkets, crafts and electric lights. I have to assume the wood will be cut up and put to use in some way when the holiday season ends. Is the tree able to understand the humans crunching around in the forest means it is being hunted. The church will admit the tree is chosen most importantly for it's shapeliness? I don't think so. The church will remove one old healthy tree to plant 40 other trees. 40 trees that have no way of surviving in close proximity to each other. Playing scientist, playing god. The angels in the forest watching the adventure. Kill all that is beautiful, man knows a better way. A continual failure known in the natural world by a different name. Created in man's world to prevent truth.

It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

Lizard tracks

It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

(mock) man-made

The illusion is created. Set up and waiting. You can't change the illusion, the illusion is always the same. You can only create the illusion.

It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

not really

Paper houses, paper dolls, burned to ash once the enchantment fades. Singing words that don't rhyme. Clapping sound. Two types of play. One person imagining a different place. Hand clapping needs two people. Fun is the memory. One shoe, the imaginary friend. Shadow from sunshine, clouds that don't bring rain. After the places vanish. Real never seems the same.

It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

dust devil, the dance of life

I see dust devils through my day, while driving around this valley. Dirt runners, swimming along in the air. Without water the clay is dust. From dust, to clay, the hand of God created.  Breathed life into clay nostrils. The breath of God is our soul. The dust devil, dirt runners. Continue to mimic the double helix dance of life.


It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96