Still Here

It’s been over a week and my blog has been silent.  I have been writing some poems, working on a screenplay, and preparing the introduction for the fall issue of Stone Path Review.  For the blog here, I’m going to start posting essays about nature, ecology, and matters more important to me.

I have also been meaning to blog about new music which has kept my ears delightfully happy.  I will put everything that I have picked up the past month into a post later this week.

Poem – Machines That Move Earth

(1)

Putting aside hollywood notions
of machine versus man -

September morning is
hidden in fog, coated
with an early frost.

Subdued sun scattered
across fields, meadows, and prairies.

The sky becomes the land
becomes the horizon.

We head north,
leaving behind city
lights and traffic
for pine trees and
winter in the air.

(2)

Winter is coming
early this year.

With axes, shovels
and our hands

we move the earth
gently and with care.

Preparing trails
and food plots,

becoming part of
the system,

returning to our roots.

Tools of the Trade

Tools of the Trade

Shelter and Home

Shelter and Home

My Helper

My Helper

Random 9/11 Thoughts

(1)

A depth of feeling
carried each day
buried into the subconscious
of each witness, born into
each offspring, burned into
humanities collective.

(2)

Questions will always outwiegh
the answers when we attempt and
desire to look beneath the
surface, the material evidence,
the words and images – we want
the person’s thoughts, state
of mind, controlled actions, the
depth or lack of emotion.

The motivation. The why.

A snapshot of the moment’s impact.

What we all left behind
and what we are left with
incomplete and still searching.

(3)

Will closure ever come?

(4)

Even when we really do not
want to hear, the edge of
reason and the unknown can
only be walked for so long
before it takes over and consumes
and we free fall through the void
the dark night – or we accept
what is done, gather the pieces that
are left and attempt to rebuild.

Poem – 13 Years – 9/11

13 Years

(1)

An arctic sunrise opens this day -
cold, calm, and reflective.

The sky burns today but
not the way it did 13 years ago.

Scattered across the deep blue
colors from every palette

converge and blend, overlapping,
without boundaries, without hate.

(2)

At the edge splitting
humanity we gather

and watch 2977 people
hold hands and become one.

Poem – Memories

On the cusp
between two worlds

the fine edge we walk
through each day.

One world filled with the
memories we choose to keep.

The other filled with what
we have left behind.

In the current understanding
time is a persistent reference

a way to communicate and exist
within this space.

But memories operate independently
wavering through all space

and the fabric that holds the
grid keeping us from flying off to nowhere.

They exist as energy and continue a journey
we started and they pass back and forth

ignoring conventional laws and mathematics
seeking out and obtaining experiences

from systems and lands we will never see
with our eyes but will return to our minds.

Poem – Where I Stood

(1)

Where I stood on that last day
I saw you walking across the bridge.

I believe you did not see me
but you must have sensed my presence.

When I could no longer see you
I lit a cigarette and sat on a

graffitied boulder near the
river’s edge.

(2)

Let me go back to the beginning.
Of something, of a foreign time.

I came into this body detached
from a previous version of myself.

With few memories or tangible experience
I went within and sought refuge in

the primordial soup beneath the
burning sky and molten mountains,

a time of transition,
a time of birth.

(3)

Back to what could be the present
where I stood on that last day

I saw you walking across the bridge
and I approached you.

With the first step you turned around
and the bridge disappeared

replaced with lights, energy
beautiful chaos that triggered

a recollection and with the memory
I lost my physical self and as

I took your hand we entered
a gateway back home.

FlameArtwork2

Poem – Fragments of the person

(1)

Washed with silent words
spoken by creatures of

the day and night
I let go and slept

in their midst while
the sky turned and

the sun left this
space beyond the trees.

(2)

In the depths of dreams
I saw the clouds

move slowly across
the empty fields

and at the beginning
or the end

I stood and talked
with a raven holding

fragments of the person
I was before coming here.

Poem – Far Reaches

At the end of this journey
I stood before the bursting

stars and bathed in the
energy and light.

I cupped matter in my hands
and I drank the elements.

Time did not exist and
I knew nothing of time.

There was no separation.
There was no boundary.

I became one with myself.
I returned home.

FlameArtwork

Poem – Fragments from Absentia 19

(1)

In this dream I watched
your silhouette dress.

Sounds of the streets below
carried by the autumn wind.

We had a place to be
but I do not remember where.

I caught a glance of your eyes
in the mirror and the soft blue

with a hint of smile told
me this was not real.

(2)

I wandered the streets
of mirrors for days
and weeks searching for the
one last person I knew.

(3)

I stood at the corner
beneath buildings of
concrete and glass.

Rain fell everywhere but
upon me and I walked

dry and untouched down
empty streets and empty lives.

(4)

I stood at the corner
and waited for the last bus.

Its doors opened but no one exited.
I boarded and there was no driver.

The inside was dark and wet.
I stumbled around trying to

find anything and after
hours of a fruitless search

I sat down and fell asleep
while the bus left the station.


Downtown Streets, by Twisted Root Studios – http://www.twistedrootstudios.com

Downtown Streets

Downtown Streets, by Twisted Root Studios – http://www.twistedrootstudios.com

Essay – Judgment

Why do we continue to judge ourselves and our actions against a written word and faceless God when the only entity we should measure against is life around us, how we impact them, and the face in the mirror?

When you wake, can you think back, reflect on the previous day, your actions, your impact, and be ok? Do you feel you tried to be the best person you could, but know you have tomorrow to try again?

What can we do for ourselves, people, non-humans, that will better today, tomorrow and years from now when we have passed and our children follow the footsteps we have implanted in the black earth?

Pine needles fall upon my head. The sweet pungent earth mixes with the summer rain. Each step leaves a mark of the way I took, a path for others to follow. I carefully choose where I go and the destruction I may leave in my wake. I turn-around and learn what I can, soak in the experience, and move forward as the ravens follow.

Birds gather across the open sky and we join hands across borders and across cultures because we are human and we are in this together.

weekend-Common-Raven

Poem – How Many

Each day rolls into the next
nothing has changed except
the distance between the
smile and the struggle within
the person becoming more of a
shell…

How many more days can
I keep this going? Inside
I am me, but fear it
has to be repressed, kept
quiet and hidden, exposed
through what others want
me to be.

Poem Snippets

#1

I looked to the sunset.
I saw your face in the
orange tinged clouds and
now I know what to do.

#2

In the silence I watch the dog
watching with wonder the dragonfly.

Perched on the chair back
translucent wings and red body

conjure images of life before life
when we were single-celled organisms.

#3

I swim the vast sea for days
seeking something I cannot name.

Fueled by hope for tomorrow
to be better than today.

Peace – Robin Williams

What demons  did you finally succumb to?

Did you give so much to the world, to people, that there was nothing left for yourself?

May you finally rest in peace and look down upon the earth and see the tears and hear the laughter and voices speak of the impact you had on all of us.

Robin Williams

Robin Williams