I tend to vacation in the same places, although I should breakout, sometimes this is all my soul needs, I am humming internally here… scientist cliffs, maryland
in nirvana…
in my happy place…
Scientist Cliffs, Maryland… total geek retreat, a 100 year old hand built log cabin (no shit), views to kill for, but also this place has sling TV and Roku… and Cable WiFi… and since I am in the boondocks there is no bandwidth back log… damn, I ma here less than 12 hours and do not want to leave…
stop.
waiting
waiting for the bus,
banal, anticipation,
usual, destination, track, map
no deviation,
dormant imagination,
waiting-
waiting for the bus.
shipwrecks…
we walk around in our space, that seems to encompass so much… space, but yet, even these continents, pale in comparison to the lands, that are under the oceans, beneath our radar, truths, stories, societies, all buried or hidden there, a not so subtle graveyard, a flowing cemetery of the document of life for the history of this world, I wonder how many, how many shipwrecks there are, how many lives, how many souls, some wonder about the riches, but gold glitters in any form, gold does not have a tale to tell except the hands that from which it fell, how many of these untold fireside chat charcoals lie buried beneath, or just undiscovered, sitting alone in the current or among piles of others on top of others in layers of layers, sparks that ended with no fire but had heat, bells no longer rung, voices leapt into the mist that laps the shore with the forgotten tongues, voices buried deep from which nothing comes, the (bio) luminescence of the human form, etched on a plank with a stone, or a blade, a bauble, a vase, an urn once filled with oil or wine, or barrels of molasses, or whiskey, or just a simple metal worked totem of luck tucked in a pocket forgotten, waiting to be found again, to sing, to write a book, or a verse, to fill in a blank, to answer a question, to pose new ones, to set the record straight, or just place a piece of a puzzle that much closer…
all in the sands, silts, and shifting tides, the whole of outer space lies in the matter of the ocean waters, a land, we can not see immediately, a land, much vaster than the horizon we look out upon to reach, the deep, and shallows even, have swallowed so many people, so many seasons, a vast library lies there, waiting for us to discover, all we need to do, is put our toe in the water…
the house.
the house lights brighten
the curtain parts-
here, in the fifth opera house,
of pleasure and play
of all the land
of all the provinces, gathered
this, the palace of laughter
the full heart of performance
as the celestial procession
orbits around
this heavenly sun
projecting with Such radiation
until all is burned
and the fuels of fame-
are gone
doubt.
a servant
of my own inner evictions
the tenant
of the superintendent of my soul;
I say a prayer for the least
not believing that I might be
just this-
notes… sometimes I neglect this and let you think for yourself… and you should… but the second line is something I do on purpose (or my mind does) that takes an “expected” and makes it something else, so to me it calls two things at once, usually the phrase would be “inner convictions” so I wanted to turn that over internally… because we are all the wardens of our own prisons, truly, but where does the freedom come in… there is always boundaries… but where and when… I don’t have it all figured out, but that is what I want you to think about (and other things, but that was just the first two lines)…
the currency…
I suppose I never thought about certain things certain ways, of course we are like a bank, a vault, a collection of our own experiences, constant deposits, some large, some small, we withdraw on them to paint a picture for some other, so they might notice our branch, or just to show off, or help someone, all these can be true without over drafting the other, I am starting to notice the value of my currency, but more so when I put the effort in to earn it, forcing myself to take advantage of the day light hours, to seek out all the little parks, brooks, creeks, lakes and beaches that are all around me, can I claim obliviousness? perhaps… but in the day and age of this day and age with all information really just a click away? (eh, probably not) so what if I am no lewis and clark-esque explorer, or columbus, we are to ourselves our own country seeking land to plant our flag, even if for a moment, so that is what my quest has been of late, to not ignore the wonders all around here in my little state (larger than some, population certainly), and I have been surprised how much was in plain sight, or just around the next bend, right in front of me all this time, all I had to do was take a sliver of time, step outside, make a plan, and go! not every adventure has been great or even an adventure at all, some took great pains to find the damn place with not much payoff, but the experience does pay off, my inner crypto on the uptake, my stock rising, from the experience of trying, one day, I hope, I can travel further, all over the world even, but even right here in my little corner of the earth there is so much dirt I have not tread, so many trails not traveled, so, in the meantime before I go on a global tour, I should learn to love the local land that much more, and the value in that, is my currency.
crescent moon winks…
under the slight eye
of a crescent moon
an aspiring father
wonders-
for he knows
as soon as spring is here
so too- summer is already gone,
to know he is tasked to teach-
this among other truths-
but one can only prepare, one
for the wilderness ahead,
protect and incubate
in just time-
for the father is only-
human as well,
travelling through
his own time-
(looking skyward now)
of all the wisdom
of a sun enlightened moon
can not impart the tale
of a billion years
or even, just, one.
dinner last night…
the passage of time is sometimes a blur, sometimes an accumulation, sometimes sudden, so here I am, well was, having dinner last night with my mom and my brother, at a familiar place, one I actually saw open back in the day, and man… that almost hurts to say “back in the day”, when I was in college, in new brunswick, almost, no, really a different lifetime back then (different person but the same?), but then here I am, back in the same place, that was once new and fresh, the toast of the town, a home run, a hit, and now sadly seemingly on the down slope of things, and my instincts scream “how can this be?”, but honestly? how often have I been, back here, I mean except now and again, what was once an upstart revolution is now an institution, I love new and exciting places but sometimes want to hold others to their past pillars, to remain the same, nothing does, nothing can, the world changes, menus have to rotate and evolve like the world, this place once had a beautiful-bound-book like menu, practically, worth reading on it’s own, the charm, the feel in my hands, the smell, the strangeness of having the vast dessert menu up front page one, and now, just a single sheet and a qr code, I understand the why, but somehow still pine for the then, even if that holding on might contribute to the end of said…
‘a monday in a college town in the summer’, I tell myself, as if I fail to recognize the lack of parking spots as other places have filled up all around, or perhaps don’t notice that every other place I remember from those years has changed hands half a dozen times or so, no, I guess, somehow, in my wiring, I expect the comfort of certain things to just retain or remain, no, they can not, this goes against the nature of everything, of time itself, so that is how we become a relic, relying on the infrastructure of the familiar, yes, this makes us easy to digest time as time is literally passing without notice to us, but how do we maintain the balance, new and old, what is new is not always better, nor is that which is old, better is better, so better to have the taste buds sharp, eyes of a hawk, and figure out which is superior – now, in the moment, for that is the only measure of time we can savor, if only for an instant, the flavor.
the dinner- my birthday, one more than 49, some milestone, I wonder what will change, if anything, or is this just another day in the chain, or will I learn something, from this refrain.
moon pull.
“straight ahead half luna shines”
as if to remind us
the pull and ways of tide
the constant wax and wane
how sunlight plays with shade
and in all angles exist
where your eyes are fixed
in the moment.
Shades of My Garden 