curiosity & wonder

May 18, 2009, 11:34 am
Filed under: words

Without leaving and finding new reasons to come back, i am not myself.  I want to regress back to trails that smell like lady bugs on ferns.  The scent of vanilla between sheets of bark on tall, thick ponderosa pines.  I want to feel the pieces of mountains in between my fingers, then throw across crystal pools and watch them skip and skim across the glassy surface only to slow and sink to silent bottoms.  I want my body to take the posture of a witness.  One that sees the revealing of an alpenglow on eastern peaks, then the opening of northern skies.  Stars will glow and we will chart them and tell stories of them, as lichen covered granite keeps us company.  I will think of friends in far off places.  Listen as they speak through the voice of a child, and through the flames that burn time and oak.  We all have to learn how to wait.


the seas will swallow the earth
May 12, 2009, 12:01 am
Filed under: photographed, words


the seas will swallow the land
the swallows will the follow the winds
to the san juan islands from san juan capistrano
we’ll walk along the puget sound
because the sound of sleep keeps us awake
and the taste of bread makes our bones shutter and shake
we’ll fill wood grained journals in wood grained rooms
and soon we’ll know the color of grey in over 50 shades
explore 50 states but mostly the one in the upper left corner
the earth will swallow our legs and arms and eyes
from our feet then up to our thighs
we wait and rush along the coast from places that have outlived their lives
they have out lived them on more than one occasion now
i left what was good on delapidated midnight painted brown porches
i buried letters from over oceans, and under land masses to big to think of
i left them there
the woods are left to the woods
i hold it lightly like the lightest dead hummingbird you’ve ever held or heard
or found in the gully below your house
you’ll burn it on a rock in the front yard
cremate it then scatter the ashes
in the out-of-place bamboo patch besides the bungalow
you’ll think of late night walks, anxious talks & find feathers of red tailed hawks  
you’ll speak to your mom in groves of eucalyptus
you’ll wish she was with us
while drawing plans for restitution
i’ll wait for the ever illusive resolution
always one step ahead
or waiting under brad’s new bed
or waiting in my fingers instead
or in tattered books i’ve read
there i find the words of others from an ageless youth :
“all i want to be is someone who makes things and thinks about them.”
i want to live for a living

if my heart can rise from death
April 30, 2009, 4:48 am
Filed under: words

so there i hid my heart
under shovel full’s of soil
to be unknown
like unmarked graves, locked doors,
or maps of lands i’ve yet to love
to be buried beneath the quiet of the earth
there the secret hope of my heart will rest in stillness

“will it grow from there?” she asked

“possibly not” i said, “but if my heart can rise from death,

then what reason shall i fear what life may bring?”


                              -written in the basement last november