





notes… just what the camera captured… magic? I would argue so… but then again; what separates magic from reality… or nature from miracle ?
notes… just what the camera captured… magic? I would argue so… but then again; what separates magic from reality… or nature from miracle ?
I am on vacation, but still in New Jersey… Cape May specifically, it seems to be an annex of Philly these days, I didn’t intend on writing so much, I felt so not inspired, but, I did write, like a homeless weirdo on the beach (oh the looks I got creating my art), but that said… here is what I wrote, tomorrow , a monday, I will be on a beach, some beach, probably remote because I want to hear from the plovers, the kites and the gulls, instead of the dull populace I know… (this will be added to my porch series)
“porch” (vacation version) 10.7.2018
cape may, cusp of columbus day
I come here to get away
and find myself surrounded
by sounds and lights
I can hardly hear the waves crashing
billy joel cover band and conversations,
shadows from car lights through railings flashing
shadows of people that grow and stretch
I’m sitting on a bench on the ocean road
a concrete promenade
across from an official entrance to the beach
a sign orders me I am not allowed, by the town, ordinance
white wood rails cast an L on the ground
and now the cabana bar is wailing some stevie ray vaughn
something I might have chosen
“the sky is falling”
kindle wood wired fences, to protect the dunes
the car lights feel like flashlights, walking up like midnight joggers
older couples walk by –
I wonder, flip flops make a certain pop sound
what will I be when I am older
not too far from now
I am the only one out here alone, writing,
everything else seems inviting and wrapped in reveling
but I remain, trying to concentrate on the waves
the constant surf in the near distance
not the clamor blocking from all directions, distraction
am I selfish, for just wanting the sound
the sound of the ocean crashing, allowing my mind to rest,
there is a breeze, but yet, the plants of the dunes do not move
I suppose they are immune when I am enamored by the move,
a silver mother and golden daughter walk past
at least I imagine they are such, their language in form and my experience spoke to that,
the bike racks are not quite bursting but near full, at night,
the paint and stain on the bench looks quite pristine, woody and iron blue,
even the garbage bins seem clean,
but the din…
that ever present welling of amplified conversation.
If ever a tower of babble there ever was
“porch” 10.7.2018
so how did I wind up here?
sitting alone on a bench
the stir of life all around, a maelstrom
and I am the eye
sitting and observing, all this life
a lifeless eye, closest to the intense
but calmest of all,
life, merry, singing, dancing,
friend, family, lovers,
cheaters, smokers, would be elopers,
detached from all this
tricking my mind, that time is,
time also sweeping me by, and through
sidelined (as if escaped)
but the days peeling away just the same
I question my motives my every move
introspection
I have more than many
certainly more than some
I should rejoice –
but here I am
staring at foreign plants on common sand
these pages moist with the breath of the common sea.
The weekend, the name engages thoughts of fun and relaxation (at least to me), so I like to post light, or things maybe that I like but are not complete (I rarely go back and rewrite anything, I like to do things in the moment, just my jam), feel free to use them to inspire you (just give me some cred if you do)…
“planned” 5/3/18
I am so prepared for you
that I am ill equipped for anyone else anymore
I wish I had the answers
that everyone thinks I should know
still searching for
at the horizon
forever just out of sight and reach
so prepared for a fate
I may never meet
a dream in my waking
have I closed all the doors?
“cleanse” 5/14/18
I do not mind the rain
cleanse my soul
to begin again
momentary lapse
imagine molecules of water
in within the power of divine
I would like
to linger, delude
to wash anew
an intoxicating prospect
I brew
5/31/18
if I am to become ash
will the fire
incinerate my sin
erase the mark
allow me to forget
even in
in the time it takes
to dream.
“gang of clouds” 6.6.18
rain approaching
leaves turn upside down
a gathering crowd of clouds
with ill intent
rumbling
indistinct muttering
waiting for
the signs
a flash, a crack
to unleash
their wrath
notes… for whatever reason these feel haiku-ish to me.. but that is me, I had a weird week but still posted a bunch, I am off for vacation tomorrow in lovely Cape May NJ (a magical place if you ask me), I love the ocean, I wonder how I will view it now since my re-awakening as a writer ? not sure, but I am damn sure I will be at the raw bar @ the Lobster House tomorrow night, bet on that.
Toad the Wet Sprocket – Walk on the Ocean (live)
and I would be remiss if I did not say thank you, any of you that ever get this far, I am trying to post me as much as me possible and if anyone cares, thanks, any reads are appreciated. All comments and the ole follow-roo are also appreciated.
The photo was taken @ Scientist Cliffs MD, I go there to decompress from the job, life etc. Oddly I am not inspired to write when I am there… the irony. I guess my mind is so calm that it just wants the rest. Anyway I spent the week going though all my notebooks (the ones I could find) and put a good amount of stuff into text so I can post it. Since I am so darn organized (ok, anal retentive) I want to post the older stuff first. Some of these works really affected me, I was surprised by how much I remembered writing these (some of them are quite emotional)… it seems like they were in my head just yesterday, life is strange, but luckily I am alive to observe the strangeness. Thanks for reading. Any thoughts or comments are always welcome (good or bad, it’s cool). I hope even my little effort to put myself out there helps anyone who wants to write or express themselves in some fashion.
“goodbye” 2006
my lips too well remember
the sense of your warmth,
a kiss upon your forehead
and may they there rest in dreams again,
the passage of time has not shed
the blade nor dulled the wound,
perhaps only hope can be found.
take in
a salve for all ills
stills the heart for a moment;
yet the loss of your love
is the death of it all
as I said,
goodbye.
“untitled” 2006
pulling concrete blocks
with hooks, chains
shoulders folds of skin
bear the strains
empty shell,
skin, bones
“still there” 2006
a flash of lightning
on the horizon of my life
wherever I go you are there with me
upon looking at the sky
picturing
listening
phantom conversations
“untitled” 9/23/2006
bridges, tunnels and underpass
over, under and through
in my car
where I am
where I am?
the cross bronx
quite less than an express,
faded lines
barricades and flat tires
crumbling red brick walls
the road leads on
in always two directions
“in cape may” 10/2006
take a picture of me
late october
empty shore
one shadow on the surf
only the crackle
of tide and the coming winter winds
even the vast flocks of seagulls
seem abandoned
“an October Friday in Wildwood, NJ” 10/2006
the sound of breaking
and the waves
a small voice asks for ice cream
forty four degrees
boardwalk and arcades
taffy and rides
I wander through like a mist
of whispers
that catches no one’s ear