what roots can do to a sidewalk
insidious thoughts can do to a man
that’s all, I was walking the dog (OK she walks herself, ah the joy of a 10 year old black lab), and I noticed the bends and bowed concrete sidewalk trailing off to my neighbor’s domain.
a couple of simpler works (or even unfinished), they can’t all be war and peace people!
arriving home
end of day
i cast off
my belt, like a snake
slithers off the bed corner
onto the floor
with a clang
i kick off my shoes
and my heels exhale
free of their tombs
shed the daily shell
(12.2.18)
riders on the storm
charged with electrical force
we feel their downpour cries
we hear their voices roar
for chariots on fire
masters of our sky
so onward must they ride
riders on the storm
(12.2.18) – and yes I was listening to the Doors @ the time (duh! lol)
the long morning shadows
raise majesty in the mundane
winter sun reveals
as the world begs for more
unfulfilled
(12.29.18) total writer comment, I loved second line when I wrote it, it felt like revelation
music ? going with a classic, timeless in my mind
House of the Rising Sun – the Animals (sure, it is not their song but I think this is the definitive version for most people, I am always reminded of Casino every time I hear this as well)
another cold spell here, if I just hold my breath the vernal equinox will come, I’m quite sure, I’m quite sure, I think I can, I think I can, there’s no place like home, there’s no place like home, ruby red click – toto out!
Another time to take a step back and marvel at this world, something so simple as being out on my deck, walking the dog (or letting her loose on the neighborhood at large), the spotlight on, not quite snow falling in the light blazing from behind my right ear, something between rain and snow but definitely visible coming down straight, I wish I could snapshot my mind sometimes (like this one), pure joy in simple weather, these simple things after a day of fixing all sorts of complications with computers and their machinations (and users…), so here I am just standing in awe, and I let out a breath, and see it set in full form, and try to blow those cool smoke “O” rings, I can not of course, but then I think about the formation of my exhale itself, the very life exiting my body at that very moment, one of the breaths less in the count, for surely there is a count, sadly down, or rejoiced for how long compared to some, but there it is, my breath, a life, something of me breathed back out into the world, maybe recycled one hundred fold, maybe this was once snow on everest, or just dew upon the newest born leaf (or the exhaust of a 72 veedub), all I know is this frozen time, my breath billows out into this surreal, and I am fascinated in all this living dream, as the precipitation still falls in unison as if commissioned (I am mesmerized)… … … and then the jangle of samantha’s tags (the dog, after all), brings me back from this dreamy plane, but those sweetest eyes that look up fuel other dreams, so I slide the door and let her in, taking one look back at the falling precipitation … and breathe out one deep last breath…
notes.. I was going to post a poem about breath that tonight reminded me of, and then this came rambling out of me first as I was thinking about how I felt out on the deck, consider this part of my porch series I suppose… definitely in that vibe
music… Mars De Revs “How to Disappear Completely”
Ambient masterpiece imo, very calming, a song a month composed for sleep/relaxation… I listened to this all day at work often. And I would be remiss if I did miss, the opportunity to say thanks to… you.
not even sure if these are complete, but admittedly I have an awful track record of going back and finishing things (I write in the moment best), so I consider these my orphans as it were, just thoughts, a capture in time, a brief idea (maybe the ideas will catch fire in someone else’s sphere), so without further blathering fanfare here they are… (cue curtain pulling back, lights fading)
struggling to describe the scene
a man of words hides in verse
the past is written in stone
engraved upon my soul
I close my eyes to see
the dawn of my dreams
as I drift to sleep
I walk upon the gate
team picks
in a pitch of reeds
taller domain
notes… this last one was a play on how back in the day we were picked for teams in games (ahem on a pitch) almost by height, and also had to line up by height when we were kids in school (does this still happen? I don’t know.) I was looking at the bay of reeds at the end of the street of my office which is now a construction site building a personal cube storage place… (these were written a few months ago, specifically 12.2 for the first one and 11.20 for the rest… out of my journals, man my handwriting still sucks, you think I would learn to write a little smoother, you would think…)
music – Tycho’s set from burning man 2018 (with visuals)
I totally dig it from a visual and aural sense, this is not all his stuff, plenty of call backs in there, but just relaxing (well, at least to me, for what it is worth), but check him out if he comes to your town, man I love his music.
and speaking of worth! thanks for reading, I ramble, I type, even if one person reads this all is cool but honestly I am just sharing, so if the art hits a heart I was not aiming, so… thanks. all likes, follows, comments, rhubarb pies, capezios, z-cavariccis are appreciated. feel free to quote me, just credit me, if you don’t well.. ah, maybe you will get a fungus on one of your toes or something… (wink, but seriously thanks to all who stumble upon my little corner of the world) I am off to replay Rygar…
the scale of ponds
as I look out beyond
just my reach of site, this pond
for this is all I may ever see
of the oceans and seven told of seas
even this common ground
upon a leaf that has found
upon my gaze in scales not bound
a body of water clear as glass
in the palm of a leafy frond
turned tan by age
and gravity down
for within this earthly confine
waves and a shore all but mine
the life and eternal in this space
a moment of infinity to embrace
volume means nothing to scale of meaning
atoms are the fabric of all things
from a galaxy down
in my hands I do hold
all and nothing of all ever told
notes… written 1.7, I was thinking about how things are perceived through the perception of our scale, meaning how we process things because we are a certain size (and exist in a certain space), if we were atoms surely a little water in a fallen leaf would be an ocean, if we were a galaxy our planetary oceans would be a tear drop by comparison, all about scale, so to me there is universes within universes in everything but we experience what we do because of where we are by sheer chance (or destiny depending on your belief), but either way the universe , all of time, conspired for you to read this at this moment in the time of all things, of all existence as we can perceive it, my head hurts… but contemplate that for a moment (pausing, waiting for you to contemplate, c’mon, I don’t have all day, well, ok, maybe I do, but that is none of your business)
music ? I have been into binaural beats lately for all sorts of things:
Hat tip to Rarebear for reminding me about these things and to post this.
“inspire”
might I be the knife
to pierce that veil of night
walking through this daily life
lead others into that good light
“speculation”
is that you, in the next car?
or in another land
another shore
maybe just within my reach
or not near at all
but never far
from my thoughts
never far, my love
notes… sometimes I like simple, especially as I get older, I could get all weird and technical on you, or esoteric in my writing, but I am really enjoying the simple things more these days, be it the sun, the moon, the dance of a squirrel, there is the miracle of life all around us, I’m not saying be unaware of the dark corners of this world, just don’t forget the amazement around you in even the mundane, at least that is what I am trying to do and bring. (I wrote these poems on 1/18, Friday)
Music tonight? thanks for asking…
Minus the Bear – My Time (live, sort of acoustic but amazing)
there is a calming in the falling snow, not a blizzard, just what you would order online, on cue, if you could, small flakes that barely leave a mark, just gracing the branches with a hint of white glisten, a calming, as if weaving a slow blanket across the land, all these pieces somehow in silent cooperation, no wind has come to ruin this show, no biting cold to chase these eyes inside to burrow in a blanket, so I may just stand here under a street light, watching the crystals cascade, like slow motion frozen captures of rain, holding out a hand to catch a glimpse, how this snow brings back rushes of memory, sledding, snowballs, snowmen, and cocoa, the worldly melts away as I observe this little truth, a smile emerges, mostly inside, with warmth, sometimes there is perfection in things, this is one of those nights, here under the street light, just being a figure in this slice, all the while around the floating down, there is calming in – this falling snow, I close my eyes and try to commit this to dream so I may recall this again.
a gentle snow falls
the calming snow does slow pause
this frozen moment
notes… I consider this part of my porch series, as I was engaged in the mundane, taking out the garbage but I was thrust into a snow globe, a nice one without so much shaking, I was consumed by how calm and beautiful tonight was, just a simple thing, maybe we forget, I am trying to stop and admire the world I am alive in.
“might I come to understand
the composition of joy
like an alchemist
to turn the basest of thought
to that of golden bliss”
“the exposition of joy”
I had a good amount of time on my hands this morning (quite unexpectedly), as my usually terrible commute was especially more awful this morning (to the Nth degree), for the life of me I do not understand why an accident @ 1:40 in the morning impacts my commute @ 9am… clearly something is off, but anyway, enough with my complaining, as I said I was pondering the world, our earth, the pearl of this solar system as it were, looking out at my not so remarkable field of vision, and just a feeling of calm passed over me, as I watched some random flags flowing on some random bridge bisecting the turnpike, all the infinite things that had to occur in the billions of years of this universe for this moment to become a possibility, is this bliss? No. But what is? I wonder about the material composition of joy (if there is such a thing). We know we have a limited time parking our butts on this sphere but are we aware? What is the DNA of joy? Is it walking outside on a rolling grey day? I say “rolling grey” because that is how the clouds look right now, almost as if we were on the floor of the ocean, looking up, and watching the waves roll over, in some way we are under that ocean even if only atmosphere, the ocean of air, is this accepting fate, feeling my place in this great debate of atoms ? or am I swimming in waters with too much depth, after all I am just sitting here, in my car, on my way to work, the most common of things, but how many would trade places with me? right now? so surely I should have joy, in all this, in all things, regardless of the point, or my feelings, I need to channel this, because what is the alternative?
Notes: this was written back on wednessday, I had off today for the first time in almost two weeks, so, yes I was busy and neglecting my little corner of the multiverse here lately. So anyone who read this, thanks, I hope it helps or inspires or at least makes your third toe itch. thanks.
1.6.2019 From the Porch (series) (I’m a little cold but it’s my fault for wearing shorts when taking out the garbage on sunday night edition)
I wish that I could truly transcribe how I see the night sky this evening, this was not a remarkable day, in any way or form, this was a day birthed in the shadows of a nasty storm, amazing to think how common storms are like common arguments, so fierce in the moment, unrelenting, encompassing all the landscape of the eyes, but they pass over and the common tongue returns to banal banter, that was today if I were to give it a name, some leftovers of bluster rustling the bamboo spires against a bedroom window (such an unmistakable rattling) – but back to my shortcomings, or maybe my lack of complete mastery of my craft (not for lack of practice), I suppose I should be content to compose with the tools I currently possess, not that which I have not mastered yet, so use the only lens I might, describe this most un-descript of nights, but in that exercise is where I shall, let me not fail to interject, to pause, to detect the wonder surround in even these so common of moments, so I paused –
(and took a deep long breath)
this night sky is a mix (not a mixed bag, not a mixed sack, just a combination of the usual customers), some stars that seem set behind a slow motion procession of wispy clouds, just slowly drifting by in sync and guided by some hidden hand, there is a calm to all this and the calm resonates inside (if you let it in), the silent cold, bare trees reaching upward like living statues grasping for something they know they can never attain (but do so stretch anyway), the winter has a way of revealing, the true essence of beings, all the lovely sequins and dressings of the other seasons fallen away, just bare bark, trunk and arms, save for the giant pine stoic, there still in full dress, another deep breath, as the clouds are truly to meander much that like a lazy river, flowing over carefully framed pockets of stars in still pools, in this I try to describe, this most usual of nightly sky.
Remember to pause, look and take it all in, the miracle of life – never ends.
I don’t know if this is a thing, and frankly I don’t care to google it… I call this observational poetry, meaning, I have a natural disposition to composition so… I might just want to describe a scene, is that not what some painter’s do with their brush? a landscape ? so here it goes…
12.17.2018 “sitting in a parking lot across from a building at night”
office building
a rectangle of squares
fifteen by three tall
the light is on in a corner
third floor
I wonder who is there
white car
two doors
is it theirs
some trees are black lines against the night
others bathed in false upright light
branches bright with no leaves to hide them
hover above patterns parallel parking lines
I can see the lobby
empty chairs
lights half on
all seems still
so calm
from the outside.
I back out of my spot
and move on
notes… been busy with life, when you work 6 days a week, every week art can be stifled, and also it is winter, and I am a bear in creative hibernation (actually I have a ton to get to but I can’t seem to get to it). I admit I have fear about running out of ideas, but I am actually hindered by not giving my ideas the time to germinate sometimes, usually I am on the spot and so damn immediate, but inspiration comes and goes, or perhaps my drive goes through throes, there is so much out there to inspire, even in this little space I occupy, here (and I try to remember that).
music – temple of the dog – hunger strike
probably the best culmination of the “seattle” sound… I never loved Pearl Jam nor Soundgarden, but there was some real talent in that whole pool (Alice in Chains as well)… but this song… resonates, at least to me, and that is enough of an admission.
Thanks for all comments, follows, and corn bread recipes (although I would really like some deep cajun recipes).
Shades of My Garden 