Poem – Eyes

“Your eyes are closed”.

“I’m not sleeping”.

That I cannot see through light
reflection and absorption
I see and imagine through
sound and subtle interpretations.

I hear the wind through the forest
and imagine birds feet clamped down,
swaying with each breath.

I hear ducks cannonball into the pond
counting each of their children.

I hear a low flying helicopter and
imagine people being ferried away from

Loss of Words

Days spent watching and
listening to the news.

Anxiety creeps in with
each headline with
each story and tragedy.

Step after step toward the cliff
little time remains to salvage

fragents of humanity
the fractured souls becoming all of us.


I want to express the extreme
sadness that consumes my being
and the futile tears that only
I can see and feel.

Fists clenched the anger
disconnects reason from thought.

What goes through another’s mind?
What is left in their eyes?


I stand on the ridge line
both sides swept into fog.

The path ahead lined with
extended arms and hands

of those who passed before
those who gave this life.

There is only one way.

Poem by Jason Hummel – Dream Pirate

Dream Pirate, by photographer and adventurer Jason Hummel – https://www.facebook.com/jason.l.hummel

Did I just slip into the dark folds of nothing
Roll and wriggle my way
Through nightmares

Even if I did
Am I merely desperate to retain
My human soul
Not perverted

Tell me
Levitated in this dreamscape
Swarmed by dark spawn
Am I but spun by the spider of deep sadness

Angels of happiness
[I demand] Build me a boat
To capture man’s misery and fear
So that we are not struck by these sharks
To sink into ourselves

As captain
I would so selflessly embark
To turn
My once ill-fated brethren sunrise bound
So that they would be powered
By the wings of optimism

But even then
I would fill their great billowing dream-sails with
Boisterous laughter
Childish giggles
And ear to ear smiles

Eventually, with my spoil of dark plunder
I would hide in the shadows
[I must I imagine]
And, once again, roll and wriggle my way
Through nightmares

The Circus is Coming to Town – Tickets still available

The Rhythmic Circus is coming to Burnsville, MN, July 25th band 26th.  Tickets are still available for this family-freiendly, high energy, positive, and uplifting performance of music, tap dancing, singing, and whatever else they come up with.

Website: http://www.rhythmiccircus.com

Tickets: http://www.ames-center.com/rhythmic-circus.html

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/events/1422227764726558/

Official Promo for Feet Don’t Fail Me Now!



Rhythmic Circus

Rhythmic Circus

When the trees weep

When the trees weep
the raging battle has taken a turn.

Rivers disappear and a lonely
dog walks the dry riverbed.

Grains of sand and stone
from the mountains consume

the landscape and put to rest
what we know, hide what we are.

The weeping tree turns away from the
sun and moves deeper into the forest.


I sat on the rocks
overlooking the sea

the sun was nowhere
to be found.

I looked for reasons
in the waves and white foam.

I sought solace from starfish
and fallen feathers.

Consumed by questions and
lacking any understanding

any reason for the state of the world
for the actions of a few affecting many.


I looked down at my hands
and into my heart.

If the answers are not out there
if they are hidden and buried

then I must look within
at what I can do here and now.


Sister to sister.
Brother to brother.

Human to human.
We are one.

Some may travel far.
Some may reach great heights

and attain great power
from the golden throne

but we are made of the same compounds
we breathe the same air

we care for and love our children
and we protect our families.

We hope and pray for tomorrow
to make it through the night.


When the sirens wail
masking the mother weeping

alone in the streets
we have lost humanity

we have lost hope and
we have lost the war.

What can be said

Unnerving silence following tragedy
when hundreds of voices became unheard.

I’ve never seen any of your faces
until now through photos

random glimpses and a summary of
a life shortened swiftly.

Birds gather across the open sky
and we join hands across boundaries

across borders and across cultures
because we are human and in this together.


Summer 2014 Introduction

We celebrate summer, the time of growth, with an issue packed full of beautiful, insightful, and thought-provoking writing; photography about life, the daily moments near us, and an interview with a farmer.

As life continues to accelerate and we become more integrated with technology, what does it mean to be living?

I watch the pond in our backyard for hours, at different times of the day, through everything that nature throws at me. The activity of many creatures – ducks, red-winged blackbirds, muskrats, and ravens – follow the amount of sunlight, moonlight, rain, snow, and other influences. This world of nature, of beings interacting directly with their environment, involves adaptation and a survival instinct for themselves and their offspring. They have a path and a purpose.

At a moment before the sun reaches over the treetops, my only thought is of nothing. All of the sounds emerging from this pond cover me like my Winnie the Pooh security blanket from childhood, and I am able to let go. At that moment, I feel something that has become foreign, that has become elusive – peace. It has taken time, experience, patience, awareness, and the desire to grow and change, to get here. And the journey is still on going.

What is living?

We are born into this world with a physical body and metaphysical being of a mind and a soul. These pieces come together and create the human that learns to crawl, walk, and exist within the space. That path is comprised of many strings, and each string has many threads. At any point, we can jump from one string to another, and from one thread to the next and the life we experience changes. This jump can be a conscious choice, influenced and caused by the environment, or a shove. How we react to that change determines the experience and how we live. Do we embrace change, or run from what is unfamiliar? And what do we take away from that change?

What is living then?

Each experience is the chance for growth. Whether we initiate the change and take control or react to what we find and against all odds, blind to outcomes, we forge ahead, we can continue to build the person we are now, and who we are growing into. Through questioning and cultivation, we find the person within that has always been there, that we were born with. Living is being our true self, becoming our true self, and choosing to grow.

Stone Path Review Artistic Journal

Stone Path Review Artistic Journal

Summer issue of Stone Path Review now available

Volume 3, issue 11 of Stone Path Review is now available for your reading pleasure.

This issue features an interview with a goat farmer, Beth Donovan; photography by A.J. Huffman, Aaron Bowen, Brian Biggs, Claire Ibarra, Galen Faison, and John Sikkila; and writing by David Rutter, J.B. Mulligan, Jeffrey Willius, John Michael Flynn, Kathleen Lindstrom, Kathryn Hujda, Michael Gould, Michael K. Gause, and Sarah Nour.


Stone Path Review Summer 2014

Stone Path Review: Stone Path Review Summer 2014

Latest issue of the artistic journal Stone Path Review featuring an interview with a goat farmer, poetry, short stories, and images of people and nature.

Find out more on MagCloud

Poem by Robinson Jeffers – The House-Dog’s Grave

A favorite poet of mine, Robinson’s poetry is about nature, hunan and non-human, how they interact, through successes and failures. His writing is timeless.

I just came across this bitter-sweet poem in the collection “The Selected Poetry of Robinson Jeffers”.

I’ve changed my ways a little: I cannot now
Run with you in the evenings along the shore,
Except in a kind of dream: and you, if you dream a moment,
You see me there.

So leave awhile the paw-marks on the front door
Where I used to scratch to go out or in,
And you’d soon open; leave on the kitchen floor
The marks of my drinking-pan.

I cannot lie by your fire as I used to do
On the warm stone,
Nor at the foot of your bed: no, all the nights through
I lie alone.

But your kind thought has laid me less than six feet
Outside your window where firelight so often plays,
And where you sit to read — and I fear often grieving for me –
Every night your lamplight lies on my place.

You, man and woman, live so long, it is hard
To think of you ever dying.
A little dog would get tired living so long.
I hope than when you are lying

Under the ground like me your lives will appear
As good and joyful as mine.
No, dears, that’s too much hope: you are not so well cared for
As I have been.

And never have known the passionate undivided
Fidelities that I knew.
Your minds are perhaps too active, too many-sided. . . .
But to me you were true.

You were never masters, but friends. I was your friend.
I loved you well, and was loved. Deep love endures
To the end and far past the end. If this is my end,
I am not lonely. I am not afraid. I am still yours.

~ Robinson Jeffers, 1941

From a Puppy

We brought Leroy home in early 2011, shortly after I returned from Alaska.  I was apprehensive of bringing this tiny life home and the responsibility that came with her.  Would we be good pet owners, provide the right nutrition, walks, exercise, training, keep her safe?  What do we do when traveling, or simply running errands?  Was I willing to make adjustments and some sacrifice for this fur ball?  Since I decided to not have children, these are things I never had to worry about and was fearful to say the least.

The first year was probably the most stressful with the most amount of change as this puppy was like a squirrel drinking Monster energy, which is probably why she responds when I say “Monster, come here”.  But, as she grew and her personality solidified, so did I. Stress became easier to handle or let go as the monster brought a frisbee and only wanted to play.  Patience became easier to muster as walks into the woods became more about living, smelling each flower, and chasing dragonflies.

Now she has become my shadow and enjoys, with a smile, terrorizing me.


2-Weeks Old

Un-named Puppy

Un-named Puppy


Home at Last

Home at Last

Pictures Again?

Sleepy Leroy

Sleepy Leroy

Going on 4

Leroy Photobomb

Leroy Photobomb

A Boy and His Dog

Childhood memories of running through the yard, of dirt being kicked up, of throwing a ball and a flash of red whizzing by – there is nothing like a boy and his dog. Growing up with at least two dogs (along with cats, birds, fish, gerbils) at any time, there was no boredom to be be found. A dog always needed to go outside, wanted to play, or at least lay on your lap and snore for a couple of hours. When nap time was over, time to play in the backyard and chase a ball or catch a frisbee.

I have always cherished this part of my childhood. Being around and caring for animals, especially those so affectionate and close to humans (dogs and cats) instills a level of patience, gratitude, and empathy. They really are part of the family and when they are happy, we are happy (and vice-versa) and when they are sick, we hurt, we feel, and we cry. I cannot imagine not having a four-legged monster running through the hallways, bark echoing, and another ball gone missing.

Leroy Photobomb

Leroy Photobomb

Artist Profile – Zdzisław Beksiński

I am reposting this with additional information from Culture.pl, the online magazine promoting Polish Culture abroad, run by the Adam Mickiewicz Institute and funded by the Ministry of Culture and National Heritage of Poland. They have a more complete bio and information about Polish artist Zdzisław Beksiński.

Please visit their website and learn more about Polish culture and the arts.





Movie – Oblivion

This is somewhat of a belated review of the movie “Oblivion” starring Tom Cruise, Morgan Freeman, Olga Kurylenko, and Andrea Riseborough that was released in 2013.

I first watched this movie 3 or 4 months ago and while it was “good”, it did not make much of an impression or stick with me. I wrote nothing about it at the time and did not delve further into the soundtrack. If somebody would have asked have you seen any good movies lately, I would have responded with a flat “no” and disregarded this movie completely.

Until now.

Recently, I have had random images of lost and abandoned ships in the desert or the sky empty except for “them”. As everything happens for a reason, I worked to figure out where these images and thoughts came from, and determined it was from “Oblivion”.

This is why it has become my favorite movie and the reason I am listening to the soundtrack while trying to find the right words.  It seeped into my thoughts and subconcious.

For me the synopsis of the movie is clutching to memories, no matter how distant or esoteric, and knowing they are part of you from somewhere.  To have the determination to find your roots and follow what consumes you, be it your dreams, a face, something unknown.  Through the isolation, the desolation, and rawness we live within, we are born within, we are forced into simplicity, into ourselves to find the answers and the path.  The dream from each evening bleeds into each day and we begin to see faces, moments, and fragments that over time we start piecing together.  We think maybe this is a part of myself, this is who I was and now who I am.

This landscape is my empty field.

The aliens in his movie are never shown, but are implied based on the events and the narrative.  They are in control, they have covered eyes with a veil, and wiped clean the mind, the memories, the spirit.  But that spirit can only be suppressed, not deleted forever, and over time, it will come back, it will return home.


Oblivion Movie

Oblivion Movie