a hesitation, if there is before the moment ‘too soon, too soon’ but the blue tone comforts in surely at the end when faced with the reality and all horror falls away when faced with the certainty and all doubt fades away; if only, we could recall the singular moment of our birth that first light on first eyes from the emergence a transition from womb-night to this waking dawn and here with this- the mystic the last stop for us to visit in this instance not too soon, in fact as meant not pre-ordained but locked in the hand there is no struggle or even if there were to lay eyes on the mystic for one grand last time and give thanks for time passed.
notes.. I post as I write, rarely do I edit my work, so it is not as perfect as I would like…. so neither am I… so enjoy, or not, either outcome is fine, all thoughts are welcome, I post the art for eyes, let them pry let them gauge.
lights in the tunnel by chance by circumstance the nexus of all history in a fleeting glance through one doorway that led to a singular path so two lights – became a pair to navigate the darkness – as a binary star
long straight and winding foot on bare a litter of babes with which to bear and so once the road came dark fork a separation aimed to dim such spark (for a time) for even death will not restrain (for all time)
the pair once ordained to be as one reunited now somewhere gone from this world – somewhere beyond these lights in the tunnel at once-more one
notes… this poem is dedicated to my late aunt and uncle, they died apart in some ways, but in some ways together… nothing was the same since my uncle passed, not just in my house I might guess, I hear things come in threes, maybe this was three, my uncle, my father, my aunt, more of a trio that might be a tornado for my mother, I wonder, she knew them all longer, and closer, and the family has not recovered, covid has sapped whatever ‘together’ was left it seems, I hope I am wrong, but I have more faith in being right on this one (but I still hope), it doesn’t seem worth the fight if you are the only one fighting the dam breaking, especially since you are not the one who built it, you are just downstream from the cemented choices others made.. and the guilt and grime… the weight of that, unable to shed, even after death… the past can never be won, sure, you can fight it all you want, but you can never win, we all do it, myself included, but looking out a window out onto the broken meadows of others makes it so easy to see…
the music, this is always about timelessness to me, orbital was ahead of their time, intelligent and evocative in a genre not always known for such things, they were different, an amalgamation and inspiration… one of those bands that I found at the right time and also a glaring reminder of my failures, they came around in Miami at their peak and I was pissed at the missus, I opted not to go, in principal, and being a stubborn moron, willing to die on my cross of principles rather than give in for an evening, and they were really good tickets seat wise, but I had my pride, my dumb pride, now I have a great memory of not going, with the one I loved more than anything, just out of spite, a dumb fight, and yes, retrospect is so easy, but so is level headed thinking, I could have a hall of fame of regret…
I also wonder how many people even read this far, these are my true thoughts, not just my art, I just hope with all my babbling I have helped a person or two to realize their own foibles, maybe then this is all worth it, until then I will keep shooting spitballs into the universe…
of course there is always the cliché, the interview question, the ponder, whether a serious psychological expedition or some tactic to make you sweat, or a silly distraction…
if you could be an animal, what would it be and why?
I don’t know if it was the mood, or the food, or the passing breeze that deposited the idea in my mind this time, for some reason the thought gave me a modicum of comfort, for I, want to be a flounder, starting life looking like any other, but changing over time, eye migrating across the line, near perfect camouflage to allow for rest, I love the ocean as well, so that fits… but most importantly as this thought struck down in my head, I would always be looking up, and perhaps I should…this is no fluke !
I think I could make a series of children’s books on this theme “wouldn’t you like to be”… I never really considered writing a children’s book, I always liked the idea of penning a novel, but that has not exactly ever come to pass as yet, this seems natural in this case, I can picture this to be laced with positive psychological undertones now that I really think about it…
The setup… so I was driving over the Verrazano bridge the day after Hurricane Ida came rumbling through, it was a glorious day weather wise (some wind), personally, eh, not so much, not bad but tiring, so this was all stuff that floated through my head as I drove over the bridge, it is an awesome sight, especially on a clear day like this, you tend to forget the fact that the water is not exactly, um… clean, especially from that vantage point, so it was more like being a bird flying over the span from Brooklyn to Staten Island (the narrows as it is called), the phrase “breakers on the narrows” is the trigger and what popped into my head, after I wrote the 1st draft I thought I missed the point by trying to make a point rather than make a picture (or share the sensation/feeling/moment)… so I included both drafts here, I don’t fret over my work, I don’t strive for perfection, I just wish to be me, as much as I can be (no one is pure imo… we all filter @ some level so I am not going to preach about how honest I am, I’m not 100% without filter… is that the goal? you bet… but I ain’t there yet…)
(1st draft) breakers on the narrows as I am passing over might I look over and from here, this is almost mystical this structure, seemingly bifrost made real this gleaming span, many thousands roam, daily and I, one of those turned into spectator by spectacle as ida has departed, the sky opens wide blue a boat’s wake, turns rows of wind swept, rakes breakers on the narrows peak frozen in motion like marching saints as I speed by this scene hundreds of feet up above in the comfort of my driving machine wanting to dive right in I imagine I can hear the sounds above the din seagulls, waves breaking onto themselves and the shore- a horn breaks the trance I am transported back to this land the common asphalt, ezpass flash transported back
(2nd draft) breakers on the narrows, tailwinds whip up clone-peaks angled on-towards the beach I can not hear the roar but do imagine as I pass above them such a scene from afar a sky wide open blue and the cleansing sensation as this flying by calms- breakers on the narrows.
the song has no link to the post other than allison was a tropical storm that ravaged texas a decade or so ago… sometimes rain is the worst part… as was the case with Ida, except super south jersey which got tornadoes (mullica river area, I love tooling around down there when I get the chance, it is like a different state)
the casual calamity of the common clamshell; back in the day an ashtray an art project finger-painted adornments to elevate the rock garden once whole with life two halves are just a shell of the former self
notes… sometimes I am whimsical but still philosophical …this would be one of those times, don’t deny your inner loki if you have one, care to indulge, just don’t extend to hurt, that’s all
‘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?
there is a deep rooted romantic notion, a call, an ancient instinct, at least felt in the ancestral bones of the northeast here, the coast, the ghosts of mariners and those lost to the great open maw of the ocean lapping, tapping, rapping at our doors for eons, the idea of a singular light, stranded purposefully on an outcrop, a rock, a place of no softness, like an iron anvil itself placed in the corner common of waves, forever to spend days piercing out, a beam of light, into deep dreary days and summoned blackest nights, crashing, thrashing, lashing winds, salty air to breathe, leather skin to dry, the ultimate test of man against nature even if nature always wins, we plant our flag there anyway, as a monument to defiance incarnate, can I summon the same strength and fortitude, and brave out toward that known view, to battle even the stars themselves, to scream my name into the heavens and be known for a time, to stand up to what can not be stopped, to grin in the face of grasping eternal teeth wrought, for our ends are the same, but can I be that beacon upon the land, calling others from the sea, with sacrifice and scars stand above the spray, guide to divinity, hope, and safety, rather than to call a flock for worship but light the way, to inspire the lowest thread of humanity to find the path, might I muster up from the earth, the strength to grasp onto that mantle, and spend my soul as a beam of light, a way, a path, a vigil, one thousand candles focused onto one, that may catch the eye of the troubled, and bring them home to those they love, throw comfort over a tempest, guided to a cove, hear my horn and heed my light, I will bring you home, for may I be a lighthouse, let that be my call.
the random photo in the bathroom the frame is a bit crooked or is the line of white tile beneath something is off someone is wrong
running into the sunrise a neighbor directly black suit neon shoes
the sun looks more like a gestating star with all the gases orbiting round converging into the core
a pure black cat sitting on a lawn like a silhouette prone, ears up back to me my luck I suppose
an accident on the southbound side tarp over the car, meaning mile marker 96 I notice no, more distance has passed since I am supposed to feel something aren’t I? should I meet such an end at any time not the fairy tale sleep I promise myself traffic is backed up for miles south
over the snake mountain bridge the sun has burned through now a jewel nestled in swirls of mist the empire state building stands the middle piece the land between quite unremarkable but the skyline – as you might imagine on a day like this
notes… this was an experiment of sorts, kind of stream of my consciousness in shorts, literally the bombardment of rampart in my mind as I woke and drove to work this am… I don’t record myself I write these in my mind as I drive and repeat them like a mantra, I lose some lines here and there, sure, but I really hate my voice on recordings, it does not match the voice in my mind, the voice I speak to myself always in is not what I hear in there, if you know what I mean…
today was one of those near prefect days, I always tell people (that from my experience living in Florida) that when a hurricane (or remnants) pass through they generally, like some strange weather magnet, clear the table of all ill, the day after a hurricane is usually spectacular, today, was one of those days, I could feel it coming, did I take full advantage? I would love to lie to you and tell you so, I set my alarm, prepped my pack, but when the morning moment came, my get up and go left me flat, I routinely get up around 7am for work most days, six days a week with nary an exception outside of vacation, but damn my blood is cement in the confines of my bed, softest pillows man can buy, curled up in a blanket like a seaweed encircled rock in tide, the lullaby of a 15 hour ocean channel on my laptop, and knowing these are days I can control my dreams, to some extent, lucid dreaming, a form of meditation for my buck, sometimes I can embark on great adventures, sometimes the past is relived with a different twist, and yet sometimes the feel is so real it becomes like a memory, making me blur what was dreamed and what was past, today, not so much luck, just redundant thoughts of having my pocket picked and my wallet gone, I must admit I am a bit paranoid of such things, the panic in my dream quite gripped me and stole away my breath, not that much unlike that feeling of falling when dreaming, you would swear the real and the experience’s merit, so, when I finally did rouse my lazy bones from their perch, time to go to the store and gather up some essentials to make dinner perhaps but definitely my lunches to have at work, my wallet was not in the usual position, I make a point to put things in the same place, as to avoid such situations, my mind immediately went to where it might be, where was I last? when did I last have it out? who could have taken it? clearly I was being influenced by my dreams, or did I influence them subconsciously it seems, it is ALWAYS there next to my keys, and try to conjure the rare situations it might dwell elsewhere, like by my computer if I ordered something, nope, not there, I check the car, perhaps it fell out of pocket, I find a receipt from november 2019 and nothing else, where the hell could it be? I start to think the restaurant I picked up from last night surely would have called… wouldn’t they? shouldn’t they? I imagine someone rifling through the bills, excited to find a good score, and also taking my ID and more, just like my damn dream, that was on repeat and I could not shake, I check all the places I just checked once more, still not there, I suppose I was hoping for magic, a quick look in my hamper, I don’t see any pants, what the hell did I wear yesterday? I dig further, and the delightful weight hits as I pull out a pair of trousers, there it is, I run through the contents anyway to make sure all is there, panic fades, my own mind is it’s own carnival some days… bring in the clowns…
take my hand and listen for the song for that which once was
take my hand and let us sing in the dream that which was before
so we may travel, hand in hand over bridge, on a tune from past to a familiar, but aged land an island, an atoll a paradise built for two and rebuild our house there plank by plank a skylight to the stars at night let the sands pass all our earthly sins let time swallow us whole together for always and at last for I may gently pass with my only reason you my love, you, my love.
notes… I do not know why I so identify with life on an island, maybe it is my time in Florida and the Keys, such a magical place, why am I living here? I suppose if I had the means and the moxie I would move my ass down there for good, and I would, and I will, an island seems like an offering to the ocean gods and they rule most of the known world, those are my thoughts, but as soul calming as that would be, as amazing a life to live among that life would be, it would be nothing without her, but at least I still have the memory…
on a personal note I was at this show… with her… how these three guys sing and rock at the same time is one of the great mysteries of the universe, when the cam shifts to the front row the guy shooting was right next to me, HOB puts on great shows… totally top notch and hell the restaurant ain’t too shabby either….