ember go out but memory serves, the day after tomorrow
the painted face I am not part of but cousin, you know my work in hands and it becomes words contained and somewhere uncontanable. like protector when time needs to, a pink cloud.
the sun makes me dry, all I want is overcast
part of my marter is an anchor in hand, the wait weary.
recalling what nippon means and nihon.
Nobe Takahashi
Ramona, Lock Shot told me your legacy and in my efforts I went to the river to pray over time to be that place, my friend Ecklund can testify this.
the rock I was told to hold when I was a boy, I am a man and the stone that carried all weight of being leader that was is something I can trust is not my place. my work is only the hands if I'm allowed to be in what I know belongs this place.
my hand is in the water and my fingers feel the trees, I know integrity.
I have not forgotten what feet have laid path for being.
I saw a flower with my son on fathers day that ignited, my integrity and it knows it’s belong and place, if you question my intentions you can ask my uncle Rodger B,