6:50pm
the sand is cold, I could wear shoes, I know, but that is not the essence of the beach for me, the volleyball courts are empty, for some reason I think it bad karma to cross them, the lines defined that is, silly I guess, but we all have our idiosyncrasies, a stiff steady wind pushes in from the ocean, my journal’s bookmark flapping wildly about like some worn flag that has seen one thousand seasons and as many storms, so I walk toward the remains of the sunset, somewhere in the back of my mind this seems a warmer path, maybe it is just the exercise of walking in sand, feet sinking in, there are a few other travelers here, as I suppose there would be, or at least should be, there is the inner conflict of wanting to share such a place and yet commit it all for your own, both thoughts feel at home in my mind but I suppose I do not own this open secret, so here you are, welcome, the rush of the waves provides constant sound, I hear nothing of humanity at the moment, not a drop of the usual din seems to reach my ears, except the wind, not howling, not screaming, nor a gentle hand, somewhere in the limbo that lies between all those, a rising firm calm if you will, gulls glide silently above, a couple walks by with their young child, also silent, I can not accurately describe the golden shimmer of the leftover tide in the sand and fading sunlight, wave upon rolling wave, maybe this is the only timeless thing I may ever encounter or perceive, back there, just some hundred or so feet, the supposed real world, none of that has ever felt like this inside my bones, is this abject loneliness? I have always been an optimist, no, I am not lonely even if I am quite alone, I just feel something missing, perhaps…
I can feel the darkness of the rest of the beach creeping up my back behind me, I do not dare to look and become a pillar of sea salt, no, I look forward to the only hope I have, the only light left, even with a useless breath, might I, fight the inevitable –
with this, a moment, an experience, a performance on the oldest stage, might even Homer blush, for he knew, as do I, our temporal nature, among nature, while born of gods this realization, or born of science, much the same, these waves have seen many eyes before mine, and many more still when I am gone, for at least I was this once, graced with the best seats in the house.
Author: David Koblentz
Inspiration is a fickle muse. Sometimes empty, sometimes overwhelming. These words I write are my own but they seem driven by something else (perhaps?).
staccato style.
a glass of bourbon
on the hotel balcony
by the beach
a poor substitute
for a family
night prescribed
perhaps I have not tried hard enough
the way the dice fall
always a pair
and this is autumn
how many springs and summers
will I
for surely less than more
night has calling
sunset missed, I blinked
midnight scrapped, strapped, a bedouin
lies in my bed, perhaps.
notes: I am in Cape May NJ this week, one of my escape hatches, but that does not always let me free of my thoughts, as they are, and so here they are…
.autumn has arrived
“autumn whisper“
leaves of color
the cloak of death
a barren trunk
succumbs to rest
“sssleep, sleep my friend
may your roots bear fruit
in the coming spring again
sssleep, sleep my friend”
random prayer…
on occasion little things like this pop in my head, today, @ work for example, which is strange, usually work is not the place I am musing, must be a friday thing…. anyway, without further pause…
A prayer to absorb
from those who came before
might I turn to the wind
and hear your voices
bathe in your wisdom
if only for a moment
if only a small slice of the vast
share with me your vision
so I might not repeat the past
and will I… ?
(1)
climb
will I see paris before I die?
to savor love upon the bridge of locks
hide’n dance n’the shadows of triumph
rise in the tower on champs de mars
n’dip my bones in the river siene
to see the frozen steps of everest
be fed from the kindred spirit hands of tibet
brail-read the walls of the khyber pass
and flow into the ganges herself as everlast
to witness pink waves of flamingos
island hops the flock n’galapagos
count time with a tortoise there
with an iguana squad scout the surf
shooting salt skyward with a puff
from the seven hills of italy
romulus and remus might guide my way
past the seven twined of istanbul
pass the gate to the holy lands
on to salted pillars of the deadly sea
may I lay down along
the nazca lines
and so align
along orion’s belt
all,
before I die,
will I see paris, one more time?
(2)
stuck on an island divorced from pangea long ago
“will I see paris before I die?”
I asked the also flightless kakapo
“surely you did not expect me to answer, for that would be absurd”
I thought the bird might mutter
but what is more absurd than a flightless bird?
“have you bothered to look in the mirror?, SIR” rocco concurred
fair point, for a stranger in a strange land
a spectrum island if there has ever been
even in this waking dream
I keep thinking I might run into a hobbit or two
surely up for a brew or some song and more ale or two
but the maori tell me of more
a place to jump into the hereafter
if only I could muster the muster
to disappear into the tasman sea
notes… again, I stipulate, that sometimes things just come to me, or occur to me @ random, this is one of those works, just random universe influenced onto my thoughts, I can not explain it fully nor do I care to, at this point in my life I prefer to let it flow, so here it goes…
one night.
‘stand‘
if I can lie to the moon
I can lie to you
if I can whisper to the moon
I will send my envoys into that room
a gathering of your friends
there was never any covenant of truth
so let’s stop the pretense of pretend
is this convenience
a road stop
or
the end?
Photo Travel-log, Scientist Cliffs, Maryland, Part 2…
Some more photos of the beach, the main one mostly, they have a huge fire pit, I do not know the laws in your part of the earth but here in Jersey? They might call out swat if you start a fire on the beach (you are not even allowed on the beaches at night)… in rural Maryland ? You can sit by a huge bonfire serenaded by the waves and bay breeze (while having a bay breeze)… and that my friends makes it worth every penny… and see all the people ? Um… so yeah, this is why I love the place so I can unpack my thoughts… or not think at all.
blocked.
I am a river
without a sea
without a delta
on which to embark
so I am a route, incomplete
Photolog from Scientist Cliffs, MD
I tried to capture the vibe of the place (including fauna) This is a northeast US beach towered over by 200 foot cliffs (to the west) which makes it rather unique (although the beach itself is not very deep due to this fact). The ‘beach’ by the house I rent is gone completely now). This private community was founded by scientists back in the 1940s interested in the local American chestnut tree population and vast amount of Miocene era fossil deposits (including Megalodon – fossils which are easily found washed up on the beach – you can see them trapped in the rocks/clay in a couple of the photos). This is more of a housing community than a town… and is surrounded by thousands of acres of nature trails (American Chestnut Land Trust) which the community itself has chipped in and bought up over the years (next time I will get more photos and video of that – they are awesome.) Great hidden gem in rural Maryland (and some great local restaurants only 15 minutes away). If you have any questions drop a comment in. I am glad to share the information about this area to anyone.
a hint of sunshine…
sometimes just the sun on your skin makes all the difference, cresting over the span, the murky skyline pans left to right, not sure if this is smog, or clouds, or both, driving through what was once a mountain, cleared with the efficient explosive delight of dynamite, just so traffic could have a smoother flight, from the meadowlands low up through the once high, at least compared to the low wetlands below and surround, the miles of refineries and oil storage tanks, quite a strange stretch I suppose, for those unfamiliar, for me my daily hike up the turnpike, an ancient name, are we so far removed from that though? a literal striped stick lowered across the road until a toll is paid, we still have essentially the same thing these days, makes you wonder how little it takes to corral us in, surely those sticks are not packing enough umph to stop a truck or a even a determined hybrid at that, but we do not, we allow ourselves to be hemmed in, civility, the norms, the expected, the daily drive stretches into months, even years, then there is something, sometimes, just a little sun on your skin. on the right day, in the right angle, in the right way, a gentle warming to lift you above the low level fray, a reminder of days past, summer and spring, freedom under the reign of the sun, long days, staying out past eight just to play until called to dinner by mom’s bell clarion call (hey, this was before cell phones), all these memories locked in skin, the simplest of things, the sun on my skin, instant recognition of memories unlocked within…
Shades of My Garden 