from a thousand-word sitting…

…wondering what I’m sipping tonight and what I next want to jot.  Wine… she confuses me, finds me, helps me find a more sped Personhood, a more purposed persona within self.  Blend I last night had, what was left of what I opened night before, told me to correct certain wine thoughts, how at times I don’t take it seriously enough then in the next am in heaping deconstruction.  What’s the right way?  Been a while since I’ve thought this, even before my last Acre visit.  I’m reminded of the calendar, how time just flees.  She provokes, and then antagonistically placates me— wildly writing about her, wine, in my time spare and ledgered.

I skip and rush through my pictures, finding one of Dutcher Crossing’s blocks.  Feel like I’m walking there again, ‘though it’s been a while.  Another time-remind.  The vineyards are honest, and often painfully, but they’re there, for me…