upon that ghostly domain soldiers thrust out upon in waves left to die face down and drown and drown the days even after breath has passed foul tide and stench has raised the war sounds rise to cover the noise of the dead the dying and injured stead can the shore open forth and then absorb the horror of the last moments of men boys, men soldiers sent in thrown against the walls of iron cross with pure luck and harsh determined lock who might stand at last who might retain humanity, bound forever within these sands of the sights, the sounds, the thoughts of this calamity at hand– of man.
notes… this one was written after I saw Dunkirk but mostly I was thinking about Normandy, but war is war, the same applies whether the line is on a beach or a street, war is as old as humanity, sometimes there is no choice, but there is always a price. (plus I am an old school metal head who grew up on slayer so… there is that…)
searching for the ruby cobbler- (for I certainly don’t fancy heels) a whirlwind rises, a dog barks, a picnic basket quakes, might I procure a pair of my own to gather up from here and take me on home
notes… one of those that I have no idea why it popped into my noggin, but it did, so, here it is, such as it is… sometimes you just let the creek of words flow as it must, a spring, bursting from stored up rain, running from the mountain top, filtered through rock, so clean…
surrounded; celebrate the beauty and bounty of the common miracles of every day life.
notes… a talisman, a reminder, I am reminded of inception, they had their own little totems to tell the real world from dreams, and what of us? we should be the same in some way, something we can see that is an instant reminder, a grounder, a soothsayer whispering in our own language in our own ear, may it be a cross, a bauble, a photo, who knows? but find something, and revel in each breath as best you can, smile, yes, we all get caught up in the rungs, myself, as guilty as any others in this regard, but I am trying to be more aware, of the literal air, every breath means the universe wanted me to exist, here, now, the why? well… I am still working on that one…
a parade at night under waves of moon light on this this feral equinox; distant shore a subtle roar of diamonds shimmers… (in the light)
the breeze a tease slides over hands cold sand insulates feet toes dig in underneath shadows dance a slow sway back and forth a hypnotic stray, I have found this place to stay lost as long as might my grace my sleep with eyes open on this beach of or in -my dreams…
notes…. I imagine a Cast Away scenario… of course without some other guy from Sex in the City sleeping with my Helen Hunt (especially at that time, although she still looks great especially in the movie “The Sessions” (great flick if you have not seen it) ), I just love the idea of being alone on some far flung beach with no one in sight, at night, in the tropics.. I have had this experience, or a close proximity of same, a couple of times when I was in the Florida Keys, alone on a beach, just me, the waves, the clouds, distant lightning lighting up the scene, I felt alone but part of the whole thing, fulfilled, I can not tell you how I miss that feeling, it was like I was part of the molecules of the ocean, as storm clouds came in, in formations, like floating city-nations, the tropics are like that, thunder storms are very localized mostly, cells you can see and track, rain on one side of the street and not the other… I always go back to that, that peace, that moment, a passing moment as all are, I wish I could describe it better to you, the water glistens and smiles, and literally shimmers, the sound of the waves becomes your own heartbeat by proxy, they flow as one, for a moment, under the sun reflecting off the moon, bent light that gives life, even at night, the barely hanging on palms that look like you could poke them over with a finger, bent over the horizon, leaves provide some strange shadows like stripes of a tiger, but nothing is fear, there is just being, I wish I could capture that… and share that… to all, and most of all to myself, but just the recall now… does help… and I remember.
snow capped bush- trimmed bob weave under the cap glaring sun clear as miles blue sky fifteen degrees seen from indoors a window a scene perfect dichotomy
what is it? does it mean anything? might I be cleaopatra’s needle, a scion in the great egyptian desert, a sign from a supposed great age, reduced to a marker in a park here, surrounded by the accouterments of this age, from pharoahs to skateboards, all seen under a carved eye glyphs, and then some should I survive some more, but then what, just another rock, left to grind down into sand and dirt and dust, pushed to the shores and depths, as all things are, with time, as pangea breaks her shores defined…
and legacy, careening through the stars, that golden disc, how chuck berry will live on, a creation with less computing power than my phone, by far, and farthest now, although we equate nearly the same age, hurtling through space, except I am tethered, by fate, I suppose my particles one day, might, make that same journey past the heliosphere into interstellar space, not recognized as the same face, yes, that is correct, but some molecule, some morsel, some small part of this whole, this identity, this blink of life on the miracle blue marble, all we know, maybe some recognition, a thought, a glimpse, a reflection in the tiniest of dna, a strandthat reaches all the way back… to me… a legacy into the stars…
stages, performances, when does the charade end, with the closing of the curtains, and what may beget an encore, if there is one, or intermission even, or a pause of the sun, such as now. life has felt like an empty cocoon, a purposeless vessel, a vapor womb, these covid years, a strange new vice, a prison perhaps, shuffling about in all the same spaces with new rules put on our places, like saddles and straps on animals we want to do what is right for the rest, to get along, for the road, for now, at least, but the blanket thrown has made things bleak, as week bleeds into weeks, this feels like all one long winter to me, there was a summer in there, somewhere (I think, did I blink?), but this feels like one prolonged indoor throng, we still have the same jobs, well, some, at least I do, the same surrounding cast thereof, maybe this whole experience has just set a giant magnifying lens on things, or maybe these times are as bleak as they seem (less to see on the tour which highlights the banal du jour), grey days, even a light snow brings no sense of joy, just another day bouncing somewhere from 24 to 40 degrees, hard to tell them apart, days are weeks or months, a drag on the soul to a crawl, maybe when the spring returns I might become fulfilled again, free my bamboo trees from the greenhouse fortress I built for months like these, left out and open to the exposed air, branches shooting outstretched, to feel a wild breeze up from knees, the warming, yes, I miss, the warming of the sun, somehow the glare off ice patches or my windshield thatched in the morning is not the same (or even a toasty heated seat), not even a pale resemblance I’m afraid, now, only 5:30pm and the sky is dark, not much of a hue change really, from another grey day, just toned down, I seem to barely remember the sun, how the mind plays drama onto itself, a stage, a play, an improv group romp that relies on past memory but also sudden circumstance, so here I am, one less day, one thrown away, more of my breaths escape into the ether, never to be recovered, at least by me, a known finite number counting down somewhere, inmy dna, or karma, or dumb luck, or free will, or the script in a book I am not yet privileged to read. (sigh)days like these make it hard to believe in the light…
notes… as usual I add some other thoughts (yours are always appreciated as well so feel free), so far it is Dave 2, Covid 0…. so yeah, I have had it twice, once before the vaxxes were available, once since, I am personally vaxxed as a promise to my dad who was taken by the virus (one of the early casualties before the vaxxes came out, he fell, cracked his noggin, we took him to the hospital as a precaution and there was an outbreak there (movie style, like ET with plastic tubes and all), dead one week later), I was luckier than most (or many) I did get to say goodbye, in person (suited up like Marty McFly as Darth Vader), not everything I wanted to get out, it all happened so quickly if you know how hospice decisions can just happen in seemingly an instant, he didn’t want to be on a ventilator but his last wish was for me and my brother to be vaxxed, so I did, I would never tell anyone else what to do medically, that is up to you, good, bad or indifferent you (and I) make choices every day, sure, the outcome is eventually the same for all of us so… who am I to judge, and I don’t want to anyway, we will all face the end in our own way, I hope there is more out there, for me and you, my little blog here is hopefully a love letter to that hope… because I truly feel that way…
and this too, will end this all goes away with time, washed, to a second rise my finite resonance among the harmony and the chaos of the humanity I hold so dear my definition my love my fears, all this too, will end I pray for more more than I am due more than I am worth the same as an inch of dirt or worse, or heaven herself but somehow deep down I know.
damn this song, this version, so affects so many of us, the raw, the real, the feel. it resonates because truth resonates and we know it when we are shown it. this is the real, we have an end, it is terrifying to me, I want to be some sort of pillar, but I am just a man, just me… and I have made mistakes, and I regret them… but does that make me a bad man? or worse? or less? no…
somedays this feels like being buried alive I can sense the nails driving through the pine see? no, I can hear them though like they are piercing dead skin sinking below the trees into the calming realm of roots sinking beneath the sprouted fields of youth a faded diamond of sand above rust dragging half a fence falling down hanging heavy with weathered ivy half brown but still fair cover (for my slumber and eventual… release)
notes… so sometimes I think about the end, will I have awareness, or consciousness, or… anything ? was I only born when I was which would explain my actual naivety? or am I unaware of my past cosmic past? surely the universe has used these molecules before, just not in this particular configuration.. or yours, if you are asking… the whole entire existence of everything has come down to this, me talking to you, in this moment, or maybe whatever moment you read this, think about that, it is an amazing thing… the entire universe decided we had to be… I want to hold on to that, I want to embrace that, and I try…
Shades of My Garden 