uɴdɛʀɯʌʈɛʀ ·• ıɴdıcʌʈoʀ •·


June 24 by The Running Son

·• ıɴcʌʈoʀ •·



Through pinched tears
the light over num-lock
takes on wings,
two filmy figure eights
bright data-screen green

on black and
bleeding streams
of light, points beaming
in eight directions (my north star)
and the cursor blinks

and is still blinking
and sections of me
blink and bleed.
My needing is too fevered.
I don’t sleep

well or write;
and I keep
forgetting to breathe
in the deeper way
my water table needs.




by Jim Aldrich (:

All Poetry by RunningSon, aka Jim Aldrich

.namaste.   -• ö.tH(ink)Mÿstiç •-   .namaste.

10 thoughts on “uɴdɛʀɯʌʈɛʀ ·• ıɴdıcʌʈoʀ •·

  1. WilderSoul says:

    Tears! Welling up at the thought…
    of Jim distraught
    lovesickness can wear us thin
    togetherness can put it right in a min…

    sleep and dreams carry us on a tide
    ebb and flow

    • And my breath is still slowing,
      and continues. Air flows out
      and reinvigorates all around
      me, expansive and knowing, no
      boundaries, a flood, new found
      water, blood of the atmosphere,
      food of birthing love, the sound
      of vitamins dissolving,
      and a great hunger, evolving.

      • WilderSoul says:

        Ah, beauty takes my breath;
        wraps it around love’s sail
        as it crosses the seas
        of life’s turmoil
        and adventure
        to reach a destination true
        where hearts meet in tune
        Hunger satiated
        Thirst quenched
        Life gives birth anew.

        • Life will give birth.
          Thirsty and grateful
          I await my twist of fate,
          my first taste
          of earth-based
          living, Rumpelstiltskin,
          been asleep since
          I don’t

          • WilderSoul says:

            Rumpledbedsheets awoke within
            a wrinkle in time
            Soft silk music pillowed his fall
            from heavy blanketed dreams
            in to bright reality
            Un-rumpled he winced
            as he bit into his twist
            and swallowed his fate.
            Sweet cocktail of delight.

            • My rumpled bed sheet
              is a divider between
              me, and starched white dreams
              meant to be spread clean,
              and kept wrinkle free
              til the rest of me
              catches up to my future.
              New turns and vast seas
              are the views of birds–
              windward–that I long to see.

            • WilderSoul says:

              Starched white sailcloth
              bears heavy duty stitching
              that holds taut in speedy winds
              without a tear
              in the
              fabric of dreams.

              Keen heart sets course
              for distant shores
              Seabird sentinels
              silently escort
              though time stands still

              Reality follows the dream.
              Not too long, you will see. 🙂

  2. 1WriteWay says:

    Sometimes you have to step away from the blinking screen. Sleep and breathe … Don’t forget to breathe. Namaste.

♫ Talk to Jim...

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RFB editor Jim Aldrich, Joshua Tree CA 2013

RunningSon aka Jim Aldrich, Joshua Tree CA 2013 | This site is dedicated with the deepest gratitude to Dr. Cláudio Naranjo, whose writings gave me life.

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