Below you will find a mixture of prose, poetry, random thoughts and a variety of images including some of my favorite music videos. The icons above will take you to my other social media pages. Click the blue button on the right to subscribe to this blog and receive posts in your reader.
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The thing about rivers is that they keep going. They insist on it even. They splash and shimmer onward as if saying: “This way! And hurry!” And when water ripples up over some immersed obstacle then twists around itself like some balletic diversion, it quickly rights itself and rejoins the forward chorus.
I imagine that rivers are parallel to something, an energy perhaps or just discarded desire. I don’t know how many things I’ve let go of by now because they didn’t want me to hold them or because I could never truly grasp them.
There are so many beautiful things
in life that we will never have.
Does that diminish us?
I know where every river ends,
and so do you. I prefer
their view from bridges
so that I can walk away
any direction that I choose.
The pen in my hand gripped firmly
hovers . . .
No muse appears. No ink is spent.
The pages reflect back the bright white
Beauty is hidden. Precision is twisted
around error in an unproductive
Somewhere a prediction fails.
A righteous oration falters.
Passion falls into the depth
of a whisper . . .
(I do not anticipate death,
for it always lies near.
No: I wait for the terror of living
to resolve itself) in words.
Being rejected by someone does not bother me.
Not knowing their motive does.
There are too many what-ifs in silence.
I’ve never been given information that has made my life worse. What is there to fear in the truth? Do we cling so hard to our ideals that any threat to unmask them as such must be dealt with harshly? I don’t think that I realized until I was well past thirty years of age just how hostile people were to their own lives and who they really are. It took that long to convince me.
Perhaps I will search my entire life
for someone who sees exactly what I see in them
and believes it.
Our hands will reach out for lost moments that we determine with fantastic renderings of fate: glows and gregarious fashions of color; nights of labyrinthine complexity; days threaded through frayed loops of contemplation.
(i do not understand
how everything buried
my tremulous largesse
motives and also
Ask fortune: that it may ignite.
But never mistake the coal
For the hearth.
I recently spent a couple of days in Bremerton, WA which is a (relatively) small town on the western shore of the Puget Sound. Most of my time was spent indoors because of rain. However I did manage to get a few photos during the sunlit portions of the trip.
Here is the sunrise over the downtown marina.
And a seabird that pestered me for food at said marina.
The town itself is quaint and has some gorgeous views of the Olympic Mountains.
Bremerton has a rather unique and stirring memorial to the 9/11 attacks.
Finally a couple of nature shots from Ilahee State Park.
I hope to travel around the Puget Sound area more this Spring and Summer. Also I need to get a new camera. These were shot on my phone. Here’s to 2018 being the year of adventure.
“At first you’re trying to fill a hole.
However you come to realize that
It has no bottom.
“You know your capacity to love
Is down somewhere within it,
Yet still you fall–”
This is a terrible thing to think (I know)
Beyond even grieving over,
And when you tell me
That you can’t comprehend my ways,
I admit that I too tire easily of myself,
my hurtful obscurity (self-inflicted.)
Somewhere up there is the light that shines
Upon all things, not to illuminate them
But to mark our places of convergence.
“Take my hand.” Simple.
Yes but it just might allow us
That last needed dose of propulsion.
Afloat on the grey-blue water
flooded into the cut between mountains
I watch the feral pulses along
the murky surface and imagine
Crushing into cold liquid.
Lungs awash in salt.
–It’s only my fear that I want
where I can still see it
but it cannot gasp for my air.
I have everything in the world
that is possible to need
except for love.
And I am empty.
Nothing saturates the soul so
like the tiniest drop of blood
of the only heart
that will ever feel your warmth.
Time and time.
Around and over and through.
Now and ever and then.
Beliefs won’t stand on
their own. (They are far
too real.) But when
lost lines are redrawn,
dim thoughts disappear,
and dreams speak out again.
Life comes; life goes.
The lie of nothing ends.
To know is to scatter
(where we’ve been.)
Here and there. Who will see
and what will they say?
“How” and “why” and “I am.”
Begin Date: March 2010
Number of Posts: 360
Number of Good Posts: Six
Avg. Reader Review: Four Stars
“This blog uses a lot of words many of them more than five letters. I didn’t know so many words existed. I was going to buy my son a dictionary but I’ll just have him read this blog instead. Not all the words are in here but enough of them are. I mean who uses the whole dictionary anyway? It’s a lot.”
five star review from reader nerdmom0-0.
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i was right”
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