Seattle, Jollywood    1904 -    
Dangerous but mostly harmless.

"Suit the action to the word, the word to the action; with this special observance, that you o'erstep not the modesty of nature." - William Shakespeare

"How things seem to seem is not enough. We must somehow discover how things really seem!" - Bertrand Russell
Dangerous but mostly harmless.

"Suit the action to the word, the word to the action; with this special observance, that you o'erstep not the modesty of nature." - William Shakespeare

"How things seem to seem is not enough. We must somehow discover how things really seem!" - Bertrand Russell
1 day ago

Stripping naked cedar trees
growing rings replete with years
heavy logged a barren dump
half-inch cable drag mud stumps
metal teeth, Stihl, gnaws an' scratches
top most mountain's slouching haunches
infested Terra's flesh and bone
miles of mange on rump of hound

Façade green near two lane glaciers
engine fuel leaks out denatured
racing to free parking yonder
this gypsy caravan of wanderers
bereft of vision, once where gardens
wrapped around our bark and pith
now their paths wade into garbage
as this landscape coughs its myth

≈ cec

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Valsa George
Valsa George
May 9, 2016

Like a toddler taking maiden steps
The narrow stream moves through the woods
Tripping and falling over pebbles and boulders
Chiming its silver anklets

Forcing itself in irrepressible flow
It thrusts and shoves its way down
Through thickets and a line of ferns
And the tangle of creepers and thorny brambles

Drowning the whisper of bamboo leaves
Its sweet murmur falls in my ears
As an eternal living melody
The cosmic song heard over eons

As the water sluices down the rocks
It becomes a frothing braided torrent
Producing a harsh grating roar
Like the crescendo of a tribal symphony

There it forms into a small pool
With its waves gently rippling
Where birds merrily coming to take a dip
And sunning their feathers, fly back refreshed

Sometimes travelling unseen
It suddenly emerges into the open
Cutting its way through cracks and fissures
Never willing to surrender before hurdles

With a bearing immaculate in grace
It sends out waves of pure delight
What joy it is to watch the dilly dally
Of this sedate pilgrim moving to its destination

2 days ago

All too often two feet pace
wearing out a mere solution
a niche, a place, save face
an end to this mazy dissolution

when minds are troubled
doubled over in thought
leaky faucet dripping hours
Thinker's fist on scowling jaw

With galvanic angst our ancestors leapt
away from sharp and frothy teeth
finding land while less adept
grounded on this stony heath

in myth a hoary story grows
to roots off ended truth
and sings a song of glory woes
Pandora in cahoots

≈ cec

3 days ago

Greater muddy coffee clouds refract twilight
stars slip by in their eternal Zoetrope sky
white lightning imbibes, jolts this double-still night

warm with cold it coils its fury
earthworms herd to fertile ground
storm-cellar doors agape, calls to hurry

yaws turbulent firmament's shroud
hanging on fervent vortex tendriled heart
a love with trailer parks, trees unboughed

whiles winds and howls pack punch afoul
sowing wasted mattress foam to weed
then stupor hears receding growl

late morning arrives a bent-bike calm
in twisted wrecks and mangled turn
what then emerges, a clean slate ruin

  ≈ cec

Condolences to all who brave the global warming storms ...
4 days ago

One nineteenth century muddy long step up from street level there's a resting chair. The hollow sound of heels on plank could wake an old dog, dreaming of fields and brook trout, just enough to raise its head in recognition and smell its groundhog day. The lazy bell inside the entrance is quiet still, unlike the pattern etched glass chimes hung in breeze's timber that moves the billowing sheets of clouds pinned to a rotating sky.

A locked, bone white door, side window pane view, with a clock's jovial yellow face staring, tells, "Open at nine ante meridiem." Skinny pillars, remanent of ancient Greek palms buttress the wooden canopy and hanging sign advertising, "Barbershop", written in Old English script and painted red on white candy-cane pole. A drop of red lists beyond its circling ribbon illusion, as though the barber's razor had nicked the white neck of the cylinder's turn.

Peering  through a window of yesterday's photographs spoke rust and gears of farm equipment, reabsorbed in time, back-hoed into this earth's grinding gears, twirling in slow motion through a cosmic expanse so vast that only sleep can douse. A bird's cheep-cheep, brings home the tree's leaves and sway of grass while underfoot a Terra firma. Reclined now, behind old growth stands the ready scissors' clip-clip of the cut and trim; back lit by a Super-Nova lamp.

≈ cec

This mind of three-eyed Raven
wrapped in past roots, moot
as misty fog of future tense
stutters, stalls in guttural muzzle

Gray bones bane in ice and snow emolument
fears loft their red badge of courage
blind ambition binds our stony monuments
wrest thousand chiseled names in storage

Spins a tale of blame a donkey
while gutting nation's brooding bowels
but Burnam Birnam woods will come
to Dunce-sinane's Hill, our vow(el)

Loyalty looms where bulking giants dwell
there to hold this door of doom;
of voodoo, that you do, so well,
let drag this blossom's hope to bloom

≈ cec

"He had been an animal blistered and sweating in the heat and pain of war. He turned now with a lover's thirst to images of tranquil skies, fresh meadows, cool brooks, an existence of soft and eternal peace."  - *The Red Badge of Courage* by Stephen Crane

Saw your light trough a darkened window
a flickering ghost of silence and promise
In this night's clearing all things look shadows
obscuring our eyes, convincing our ears
running into dreams of freezing legs and arms
weeping memories of past, past

Know that winter lasts a season's vapor breath
as great wheels of life turn eternal fears of death

Then centered comes our compassed sun
In a field, by a hill, a mare stems with her foal
butterfly dancing 'lites on flowers of gold
as Flicker birds defy their gravity so bold
on Linden trees of scented summer

Turned whispering hours of a newcomer's fare
ventures chaconne's path of daybreak's flare
and harmony of morning chirps in felicities' care

≈ cec

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