thoughts from the porch (beach edition)…

thoughts from the porch (beach edition)…

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.

observation and chance, just for me… or?

observation and chance, just for me… or?

lens flare sunrise sunset
Photo by Snapwire on Pexels.com

past when I usually spy the sun, still well before she dips below the actual horizon, not just mine, like a star guiding a wayward journey on a moonless night, there I was in the perfect position, by luck, by providence, by circumstance, a pinch of salt and a dash of pepper maybe coriander, all of these, there I stand, staring into the spiral center of a leaf field collage, nearly as dense as the night sky on the round, simply replace black with dark green shadows, but a crack, no a cranny, a nook, a little big hole of just enough, for the sun to shine through, somewhat lens flare diffused, this was not the swelling noon globe I am used to, sometimes I will catch glimpses of this theme in a window, a peek, a wink, but maybe the trees were swaying then, never quite this still, this perfect a portal, a north star buried in a mass of green leaves arranged so perfectly like a tight bouquet with a brilliant diamond in the center, little moments like these provide blocks to build inner strength, reinforce the walls of the good of the world, that  hope, the individuality, I had been starring there standing for a while now, completely lost out of my body swept out into the ocean of the anomaly, and as fast as such times are, the circumstance for my chance was gone, but I was there, I was there for the experience of the moment, I was there.

Cliche… a poem about a sunset (but give it a run anyway)

Cliche… a poem about a sunset (but give it a run anyway)

silhouette of mountains
Photo by Simon Matzinger on Pexels.com

9.28.2018 “september sunset”

clouds, breakers

rolling across the ethereal setting sky

the gentle palm of the sun descends

a bathing basin of light

suspended womb, cradle of life

a pause, a stop, a moment, a memory,

a photo, shared.

 

comets or plane trails trail

like linen strands across the blue

wisps of nimbus interwoven

eight cross corset laces

climbing up the horizon

 

in the distance – mountains

the sun has ducked behind

out of quick sight

with tell tale tip toes of light

snitches tattle to the approaching night

 

street lights turn on, in anticipation

 

if this is existence

in a moment –

I wish to be here.


Since I am going to go see him Sunday night in NYC here is some Eric Johnson with content appropriate music…

Eric Johnson – When the Sun Meets the Sky (live)

I wanted to post a live track to show how damn gifted he is as a player.  He is all I strive for on guitar (and I am not nearly on the same planet as him playing wise), I like to pick around and not play chords… and at that he is just amazing, listen to all the notes he plays just flawlessly, he can be flashy but he has heart…. damn I am practically vibrating in place awaiting this show sunday night @ sony hall in NYC.  Stop by and say hey if you are in the area at the show (I’m much funnier in person), I have VIP tickets, not that I am one (a VIP that is) but I can afford them, not sure how the venue handles all that, it will be my first time there.  as always thanks if you got this far or read any of my rabble, thanks.