recycling or trash

June 30, 2014



stupid book


March 21, 2014

and when our ears stop ringing
and our heads stop spinning
and we slow down our breathing
and take each others hand
maybe the day can begin
here at its end in the gloaming
I’ve been working for this moment with you.

inclined to extend

January 9, 2014

penance for my previous impervious post

I was torn about my tiny tome’s tone and terse tense, yet dense sense of words spent to say what I meant.

The incentive was not to be insensitive, but the intensive intent sentenced the sentences to be sometimes insensible.

Still, I was content to an extent with the extant content.

But a certain percent of what I sent is not worth a cent; hence the lack of sense in the investment of interest in nonsense that won’t gather any interest to pay for the poor syntax.

In this instance consistent with the internet’s instant insistence I sent to staunch the stench of my blog’s static statistics but I passed out before I parsed out the sentencing for my implicit complicity.

So I claim innocence! In a sense, it was the entrance of these intense scents of incense that incensed my sense of license to write a silly sentence.

Scintillating? Nah, ultimately just obnoxious.

snowfields of the equator

December 23, 2013

Just wanted to make a quick comment
about the artwork on A Hymn for Winter,
because it is a great example of one of
the circumstances that has made my life wonderful.
Mt. Kenya Sunrise
This is a scan of a 14-year-old photo
taken about 10 miles south of the equator on
Mount Kenya (the most beautiful and magical place I have ever been)
I am looking into the rising sun
across fresh snow on a glacier at around 16,000 feet.
It was taken on the descent with
one of those old disposable kodak point and clicks.

It was an incredible day.

Reverie is not Strategy

November 30, 2013

“I will buy a bit of leisure with every woman of that pursuit for 100 miles.”

“Ha! I will buy a new ass and then some britches to fit it.”

“What!? You’ll buy a donkey wearing pants?”

“No, I will eat until my ass is too big for the pants that I have!”

“Ha, Ha! I will buy an iPad.”


“So my friends, what about the dragon?”

lakeside with you

October 23, 2013

allow for grief
camping out at that deep silent lake
mourning comes quietly
morning comes crashing
when you face it alone
exhausted from lonely
i think of you
swimming everyday
in water that is still too cold to be refreshing
but you are compelled to dive
in depth that is intimidating
i stand in the shallows
with a towel in hand
ready to wrap it around your shoulders when you emerge
when i can reach you
all of you
weep and add to the waters
the ripples spreading out forever

not lazy – just in love

August 12, 2013

I love you.
that’s not something I have to practice or pretend.
like when someone says, “how was your weekend?”
and I nod and say, “really nice; how ‘bout you?”
and I muster all my sincerity and force it into my eyes and smile.
                       … I do care; and yes, it has been very humid.
I am thinking about the time I spent with you;
that (regardless of the weather) we agree
together doing nothing is the best sort of thing you can do.

someone has been here before.
maybe not right here, in this exact spot
but near enough to see these sights.
so many…
traveling where they never wanted to go.

some have given up here.
laid down and not gotten up again.
others have pushed on
along the endless flats
up the next ridge; through the next valley.
most who have been here
thought they couldn’t go on.
and then…
…did anyway.

everyday people push through.
when one doesn’t see the evidence of those who passed before
that’s because it’s not the time to look for it.
head down, jaw set, dragging forward
just trying to make it.
this is not criticism.
the journey consumes
exhaustion overwhelms;
often enough, one sees traces but
that knowledge: whether others have made it or not,
is not helpful.
it does not matter.

though there can be help along the way.
invaluable allies often overlooked
who sojourn into sadness
as far as they are able
to understand, to absorb
to quietly carry.
to mourn with those who mourn…
such good people.
thank you.

still it is a lonely journey.
no travel guide
no destination
no time frame
no imagining joy
just what appears to be endless sensless wandering.
bless those on the road
bless those who go it alone
bless those weeping in the wastes.

everyday someone makes an impossible passage;
today it is us.

the title and first draft
were written Sept. 26, 2012
in mourning and in good company.

redundant birthday

July 3, 2013



because this year for your birthday i got you redundancy