I was playing a game with my kids the other day

I asked:
What do you use to see?
She said 'your eyes'
He said 'your brain'
Both right
Next I asked what do you use to hear?
She said 'your ears'
He said 'your brain'
Both right, again

The wisdom of children!

The game ended there but it got me thinking about what we use to feel
The most straight forward answer is our skin
Your brain is what processes the sense of touch so that has to be included
What about your heart?
Where does it fit into the big scheme of things?
Isn't the heart the space where we process feelings?

I have to loosely define things and often turn them upside down
ruminate
reorder my worldview to make it copacetic
I'm pretty sure that I often walk in two worlds
If my mind is simply locked in the western paradigm then people look at me like I'm bizarre
I'm not joking when I say they've wanted to lock me up because of my views
When I allow my mind to get locked into this western paradigm,
I sometimes even feel like I belong in lockup.

That's even worse than being held against your will
You're being held because you've lost your will

So I play with definitions to better suit my needs

When you do this however, there is a risk
Last summer I unlocked a spectre as I drank deeply and greedily from Crypt Lake

Crypt Lake is a real place on this planet
How did it get it's name (you might ask)?
According to the Blackfoot, placenames aren't given,
they come from place

Let's contextualize ~ this is all part of the journey
The physical leads to the spiritual and vice versa
To get to Crypt Lake you have to enter Waterton-Glacier International Peace Park
Found in the southwest corner of Alberta and the northwest corner of Montana
Once through the gates you have to catch a boat at a certain time
You have to be in the physical plane of existence at this point otherwise you're not getting on that boat
Once you get to the trailhead, then you can start to drift

That's what I did
As I walked, I let the stories come into me
I let them flow through me
They were sitting there waiting to be told
A spruce, arm in arm, with a pine
Hawks circling overhead
An ever present alertness for our bear brethren
Always open to the wildflowers
Indian paintbrush (I have red hair could I be considered an indian paintbrush?)
Pollinators flitting about
Oh, the water

Listen to the stories the water told:
First we come to Hell Roaring Falls
Next Twin Falls
Next Burnt Rock Falls
And to reach the Crypt, we have to pass through a mountain tunnel
Opening up to Crypt Falls
and finally Crypt Lake

This is a regular heroes journey if you allow it to be
I was in that place in my mind where I allowed it to unfold as it may

This is a place that's also known as the Crown of the Continent
Not far away is Chief Mountain, Turtle Mountain, and Crowsnest Mountain
Also Writing-On-Stone and the Milk River and Sweetgrass
These are holy names, this is a holy land

What I saw at Crypt Falls was the backbone of the continent
I saw the backbone of Turtle Island

I was floored
I had been on a continent wide spirit quest a few years previously
There was talk that the Deed for Turtle Island was coming due
And maybe it would be produced at one of these gatherings
We all waited but nobody produced it

I ruminated on that idea for a few years
I'm pretty sure that the Deed was there
Those who held it, just didn't realize

I learned something at the Crypt
I wanted answers and I made an assumption
I assumed that the water held the answers
So I drank deeply, even greedily from the Crypt

Right there in the international peace park, on the crown of the continent
With the Old Chief and the Crowsnest not far away
Writing-On-Stone just a sashay away
What about writing in calcium?
If I were the earth, I would encode important information in something
Transmutable

Not blood.
Bones

What I learned up there on the mountain as I gulped down knowledge from the Crypt was that the deed is written into the bones of the land and into the bones of those borne of that land

This is indigenous knowledge

It's in the water, the water is the medium for the message
The bones are the stock
But just like a double helix
A genetic sequence is an expression of time and place
On a certain spacetime continuum this innocuous looking structure
(take a look in the mirror)
Has all the necessary answers

willow of crystal, a poplar of water,
a pillar of fountain by the wind drawn over,
tree that is firmly rooted and that dances,
turning course of a river that goes curving,
advances and retreats, goes roundabout,
arriving forever:
                     the calm course of a star
or the spring, appearing without urgency,
water behind a stillness of closed eyelids
flowing all night and pouring out prophecies,
a single presence in the procession of waves
wave over wave until all is overlapped,
in a green sovereignty without decline
a bright hallucination of many wings
when they all open at the height of the sky,

course of a journey among the densities
of the days of the future and the fateful
brilliance of misery shining like a bird
that petrifies the forest with its singing
and the annunciations of happiness
among the branches which go disappearing,
hours of light even now pecked away by the birds,
omens which even now fly out of my hand,

an actual presence like a burst of singing,
like the song of the wind in a burning building,
a long look holding the whole world suspended,
the world with all its seas and all its mountains,
body of light as it is filtered through agate,
the thighs of light, the belly of light, the bays,
the solar rock and the cloud-colored body,
color of day that goes racing and leaping,
the hour glitters and assumes its body,
now the world stands, visible through your body,
and is transparent through your transparency,

I go a journey in galleries of sound,
I flow among the resonant presences
going, a blind man passing transparencies,
one mirror cancels me, I rise from another,
forest whose trees are the pillars of magic,
under the arches of light I go among
the corridors of a dissolving autumn,

I go among your body as among the world,
your belly the sunlit center of the city,
your ******* two churches where are celebrated
the great parallel mysteries of the blood,
the looks of my eyes cover you like ivy,
you are a city by the sea assaulted,
you are a rampart by the light divided
into two halves, distinct, color of peaches,
and you are saltiness, you are rocks and birds
beneath the edict of concentrated noon

and dressed in the coloring of my desires
you go as naked as my thoughts go naked,
I go among your eyes as I swim water,
the tigers come to these eyes to drink their dreams,
the hummingbird is burning among these flames,
I go upon your forehead as on the moon,
like cloud I go among your imagining
journey your belly as I journey your dream,

your ***** are harvest, a field of waves and singing,
your ***** are crystal and your ***** are water,
your lips, your hair, the looks you give me, they
all night shower down like rain, and all day long
you open up my breast with your fingers of water,
you close my eyelids with your mouth of water,
raining upon my bones, and in my breast
the roots of water drive deep a liquid tree,

I travel through your waist as through a river,
I voyage your body as through a grove going,
as by a footpath going up a mountain
and suddenly coming upon a steep ravine
I go the straitened way of your keen thoughts
break through to daylight upon your white forehead
and there my spirit flings itself down, is shattered
now I collect my fragments one by one
and go on, bodiless, searching, in the dark....

you take on the likeness of a tree, a cloud,
you are all birds and now you are a star,
now you resemble the sharp edge of a sword
and now the executioner's bowl of blood,
the encroaching ivy that over grows and then
roots out the soul and divides it from itself,

writing of fire on the slab of jade,
the cleft in the rock, serpent-goddess and queen,
pillar of cloud, and fountain struck from the stone,
the nest of eagles, the circle of the moon,
the seed of anise, mortal and smallest thorn
that has the power to give immortal pain,
shepherd of valleys underneath the sea
and guardian of the valley of the dead,
liana that hangs at the pitch of vertigo,
climber and bindweed and the venomous plant,
flower of resurrection and grape of life,
lady of the flute and of the lightning-flash,
terrace of jasmine, and salt rubbed in the wound,
a branch of roses for the man shot down,
snowstorm in August, moon of the harrowing,
the writing of the sea cut in basalt,
the writing of the wind upon the desert,
testament of the sun, pomegranate, wheat-ear....

                         life and death
are reconciled in thee, lady of midnight,
tower of clarity, empress of daybreak,
moon ******, mother of all mother liquids,
body and flesh of the world, the house of death,
I have been endlessly falling since my birth,
I fall in my own self, never touch my depth,
gather me in your eyes, at last bring together
my scattered dust, make peace among my ashes,
bind the dismemberment of my bones, and breathe
upon my being, bring me to earth in your earth,
your silence of peace to the intellectual act
against itself aroused;
                         open now your hand
lady of the seeds of life, seeds that are days,
day is an immortality, it rises, it grows,
is done with being born and never is done,
every day is a birth, and every daybreak
another birthplace and I am the break of day,
we all dawn on the day, the sun dawns and
daybreak is the face of the sun....

gate of our being, awaken me, bring dawn,
grant that I see the face of the living day,
grant that I see the face of this live night,
everything speaks now, everything is transformed,
O arch of blood, bridge of our pulse beating,
carry me through to the far side of this night....

gateway of being: open your being, awaken,
learn then to be, begin to carve your face,
develop your elements, and keep your vision
keen to look at my face, as I at yours,
keen to look full at life right through to death,
faces of sea, of bread, of rock, of fountain,
the spring of origin which will dissolve our faces
in the nameless face, existence without face
the inexpressible presence of presences...

I want to go on, to go beyond; I cannot;
the moment scatters itself in many things,
I have slept the dreams of the stone that never dreams
and deep among the dreams of years like stones
have heard the singing of my imprisoned blood,
with a premonition of light the sea sang,
and one by one the barriers give way,
all of the gates have fallen to decay,
the sun has forced an entrance through my forehead,
has opened my eyelids at last that were kept closed,
unfastened my being of its swaddling clothes,
has rooted me out of my self, and separated
me from my animal sleep centuries of stone
and the magic of reflections resurrects
willow of crystal, a poplar of water,
a pillar of fountain by the wind drawn over,
tree that is firmly rooted and that dances,
turning course of a river that goes curving,
advances and retreats, goes roundabout,
arriving forever:

*Mexico 1957

There has not been for a long time a spring
as beautiful as this one; the grass, just before mowing,
is thick and wet with dew. At night bird cries
come up from the edge of the marsh, a crimson shoal
lies in the east till the morning hours.
In such a season, every voice becomes for us
a shout of triumph. Glory, pain and glory
to the grass, to the clouds, to the green oak wood.
The gates of the earth torn open, the key
to the earth revealed. A star is greeting the day.
Then why do your eyes  hold an impure gleam
like the eyes of those who have not tasted
evil and long only for crime? Why does this heat
and depth of hatred radiate
from your narrowed eyes? To you the rule,
for you clouds in golden rings
play a music, maples by the road exalt you.
The invisible rein on every living thing
leads to your hand--pull, and they all
turn a half-circle under the canopy
called cirrus. And your tasks? A wooden mountain
awaits you, the place for cities in the air,
a valley where wheat should grow, a table, a white page
on which, maybe, a long poem could be started,
joy and toil. And the road bolts like an animal,
it falls away so quickly, leaving a trail of dust,
that there is scarcely a sight to prepare a nod for,
the hand's grip already weakened, a sigh, and the storm is over.
And then they carry the malefactor through the fields,
rocking his grey head, and above the seashore
on a tree-lined avenue, they put him down
where the wind from the bay furls banner
and schoolchildren run on the gravel paths,
singing their songs.

--"So that neighing in the gardens, drinking on the green
so that, not knowing whether they are happy or just weary,
they take bread from the hands of their pregnant wives.
They bow their heads to nothing in their lives.
My brothers, avid for pleasure, smiling, beery,
have the world for a granary, a house of joy?"

--"Ah, dark rabble at their vernal feasts
and creamatoria rising like white cliffs
and smoke seeping from the dead wasps' nests.
In a stammer of mandolins, a dust-cloud of scythes,
on heaps of food and mosses stomped ash-grey,
the new sun rises on another day."

For a long time there has not been a spring
as beautiful as this one to the voyager.
The expanse of water seems to him dense
as the blood of a hemlock. And a fleet of sails
speeding in the dark, like the last
vibration of a pure note. He saw
human figures scattered on the sands
under the light of the planets, falling from the vault
of heaven, and when a wave grew silent, it was silent,
the foam smelled of ioding? heliotrope?
They sang on the dunes, Maria, Maria,
resting a spattered hand on the saddle
and he didn't know if this was the new sign
that promises salvation, but kills first.
Three times must the wheel of blindness
turn, before I took without fear at the power
sleeping in my own hand, and recognize spring,
the sky, the seas, and the dark, massed land.
Three times will the liars have conquered
before the great truth appears alive
and in the splendor of one moment
stand spring and the sky, the seas, the lands.

*Wilmo, 1936

All colors come from the sun. And it does not have
Any particular color, for it contains them all.
And the whole Earth is like a poem
While the sun above represents the artist.

Whoever wants to paint the variegated world
Let him never look straight up at the sun
Or he will lose the memory of things he has seen.
Only burning tears will stay in his eyes.

Let him kneel down, lower his face to the grass,
And look at the light reflected by the ground.
There he will find everything we have lost:
The stars and the roses, the dusks and the dawns.

*Warsaw, 1943

You'd say I was foolish or more likely, delusional.

I'd say you're right, and I'd smile inwardly

You'd say it can't be done, your shareholders would never allow it

I'd say, if they know what's good for them they will

You'd ask, what kind of shareholders do you think you have?

I'd say, hand-picked .... principled

You'd say, it's a stretch, but it's your delusion

I'd say, I've already done it ...

And I'd ask, can delusion and reality exist on the same plane?

You'd think: *******!

I'd smile inwardly

History is in the eye of the beholder

If we right the ship correctly
Then, maybe we right our trajectory

If we write the past correctly
Then, I'll bet we re-write our trajectory

We are all pollinators

Is it possible that if we allow our stories to flow
We can change which way the wind blows?

If Steve was here to create Jobs then why are they all in China

If Bill is here to create Gates then why did he do it with Windows

If Buffett (not Jimmy) is here as a Warren (ing) then what is he holding behind the levee

And don't Daemonize Matt, he's a benevolent spirit -- Parker & Stone, yes I'm talking to you

What does Bill and Warren do around those small tables? Play bridges or create them?

The Guide and I into that road
     Now entered, to return to the bright world;
     And without care of having any rest                                         135

We mounted up, he first and I the second,
     Till I beheld through a round aperture
     Some of the beauteous things that Heaven doth bear;

Thence we came forth to rebehold the stars.

I went down to the crossroads. It was time for my life to start but I was dealing with a sticky throttle. I couldn't find my voice, I couldn't find momentum. When life got moving, then everything was coming in fits and starts. When I wasn't completely stuck in the mud I risked running myself over because I went from no traction to full traction in a fraction ... everything came so fast and furious.

So I sat there at the crossroads and there was the devil, waiting … he was waiting to see what I had to offer. When he saw that I couldn't or wouldn't offer the things that he wanted he stayed away. The devil had a certain amount of integrity, he was of the old ways.

As a stubborn individual, I decided not to leave. I felt the crossroads still had answers to offer up. Soon another entity came, it was god. God wanted to make a deal with me. I should have felt relieved, here was Mr. Omniscience himself. All he wanted in return was my eternal soul, he wanted me to live a god life so that I could go to heaven. When I thought about it, I decided that this deal was ******* than what the devil had to offer. At least I could eventually swim out of hell and give it another whirl. God didn't offer much hope for a second chance. He was willing to sacrifice his son so that I would have eternal peace. **** this dude. He should be tried for crimes against humanity at the most preposterous and for infanticide at the most basic levels.

But maybe this story was best told as a trinity. Maybe Jesus walked this Earth so that he could sacrifice Himself. He knew the choices that were offered on this planet. The devil you know versus an eternal rest. Of the many preposterous things that we could do in worship maybe worshipping cows made the most sense. Maybe jesus took some bones of his father and came back to earth so that he could resolve this injustice. Maybe Jesus was ******* story overlaid on ******* story or maybe there was truth buried somewhere deep in our collective. Maybe it wasn't jesus that stole some of his father's bones but maybe it was eve who stole some of her father's bones and she sacrificed herself so that we could wake up out of dreamtime. So that she could take a bite out of the apple of knowledge and so that she could wake us all up to the beautiful things that lie under her feet.

If I am to ever worship anything in this world then it would be eve.

Meanwhile, back at the crossroads.

Zeus or Allah or Yaweh or Krishna or whatever you want to call Him had all the best intentions. I was one of his children, he told me. If I would repent at this crossroads in my life then I would be able to live alongside all my brother's and sister's in a place that defied all physical laws (that I'm aware of) for eternity. So, God was telling me that I should not live in this life ... but instead, live in the next one. This was just a practice life! He wanted me defy the laws, the architecture that had been laid down for us … he wanted me to defy the Code so that we can go get 'stuck' in dreamtime for eternity. And that was it, I saw where the integrity was emanating from. It wasn't from this pseudo-god or from dreamtime or from any other unhealthy alternatives. The answer was the crossroads itself. The answer was under our feet. Under my feet, the whole time. This planet, as an expression of the stars, has all the answers that we need at this time. We need to relish these crossroads that we come to in our life and own it. Don't take ownership for what's under your feet, take ownership for everything from soul to crown ~ nothing more, nothing less

No man is an island but as an aggregate, if we can remember who we are, we can become even more solid than a rock.

Maybe as an aggregate, we can become the rock we've always been looking for.

A

Not No Logos, Klein.
What about anti-logo
Using the figure as the foci
But leaving the message in the medium
Both in the back and foreground

Then we yell fore and the foreground becomes the background

2

Always remembering hierarchy but always forgetting Plutarch

Is this is a disambiguation?

Did I confuse Parallel Lives with Plutarchy?

3

So we grid it out.
GOTO Vitruvio ...

4

Trying hard to balance can create imbalance this we rationalize through irrationality.

3.14159265359 ...

5

Symmetry ... .. . ~ . .. ... assymetrY

Stressing the *** in asymmetry

And what about the meeting of Apollo and Dionysus and the Apollonian/Dionysian duality?

6

Rhythm:

3:3 ; 4:4 ; 7:4 ; salt peanuts . .. ... windtalkers

7

White space is an access point for flow, Tao, source .... this is where my batteries recharge

8

Every element is mindfully placed; an element of gestalt ism "shape form", is this analogous to timespace?

Is the whole other than the sum of its parts? GOTO Miller-Urey II nested inside Babylon Falling

Both are self organizing, none the less. Such wholesome folk we are.

9

The patterns found in isolation parallel both linear and crossing elements and the instructions always coming from a double helix. GOTO The Dance of the Double Helix

... and always adding depth and motion ... kinematic to the statics. GOTO Introducing Happiness

10

Type faces are interfaces so be consistent ... you Paranoid Android!

J

Always K.I.S.S.ing

Q

And in motion means modularity is a must

K

Peaks and valleys can be better understood at the Red Onion or maybe just by peeling back the layers (of life)

Look who's found who

Look who stole you from your rest ...
And in believing, we cheated death

September's fall is warm and crisp,
on the road and on the path
I could make you an empath.

Introducing empathy.

What do you owe me and I owe you,
Or do we own it all collectively?
I'm not a healer
Let's forget about the stealers
I thus am nearing apogee.
Have to write this poem for you.
And me ...

Introducing all that blooms into our home.
While the tribal does a dance of revival
And we're harvesting (what's sown).

When I see you
through the windows open wide,
A watched *** never boils.
But 7 kettles resonates.
We all go away some times,
But your picture's in my mind
so when I'm many metres away
Even then, I cannot stray
I go and climb the tallest tree.
I sit and wait for you and me.

Introducing empathy
Introducing empathy
Introducing ... you and me

You are a leader ship

how I know this?

cause I'm a leader ship too

I can see the sinuous fibre of your very being

take a look

I bet you can see it too

we are borne of the earth and the stars

borne in the wind

there are four cardinal directions, N E S W, do not forget about the intermediary

be an intermediary ~ who wants to be a cardinal?

we need our leader ships following their own true north

2D - 3D -- 4D --- 5D ---------------------------- >

following the wormholes ... the aether

following certain signs and symbols

trust in divine feminine ... .. . .. ... masculine divine in trust
trust in masculine divine ... .. . .. ... divine feminine in trust

" 'It's all this!' He wrapped his finger in his fist; the car hugged the line straight and true." ~ Kerouac

Ship builders choose their timber mindfully
Be mindful with your archetypes, Noah!

Adapted from pg. 571 of Alcoholics Anonymous, 4th Edition

The Black Swan Sanctuary will become a unique and highly successful approach to that age-old public health and social problem, following the crowd... In emphasizing Black Swanism as an integral component of the human genome, the social stigma associated with this condition will be blotted out... "Historians may one day recognize (BSS) to have been a great venture in social pioneering which forged a new instrument for social action; a new therapy based on the kinship  of common suffering; on having a vast potential for the myriad of ills of (hu)mankind."

I've been eating a lot of chicken wings lately.

They always come with celery and carrots & I eat them first because my body actually feels better when I eat my veggies.

I'm compelled to eat the wings though.

It is a continuous reminder that chicken do not need wings.

I'm not happy about that fact, though.

Have you ever thought deeply about Prime numbers?

We normally think of prime as something unbreachable

In base ten this is most likely true

But there are other languages that might be used to break down numbers

I'm no theorist but I have my theories

What was behind the Big Bang?

Prime

If impermeable ... then the Big Bang never happened

And any good programmer worth a lick of salt, always leaves a back door

So, I bet there are some Prime numbers out there that are permeable, otherwise ...

We wouldn't be the Children of the Big Bang

I stand before you, not as an expert, but as a concerned citizen.

One of the four hundred thousand people who marched in the streets of New York on Sunday and the billions of others around the world who want to solve our climate crisis.

As a poet, I pretend for a living. I play fictitious characters often solving fictitious problems. I believe that mankind has looked at climate change in that same way; as if it were a fiction. As if pretending that climate change wasn’t real would somehow make it go away.

But I think we all know better than that now. Every week we’re seeing new and undeniable climate events, evidence that accelerated climate change is here, right now.

Droughts are intensifying, our ocean’s are acidifying, with methane plumes rising up from the ocean floor. We are seeing extreme weather events and the west Antarctic and Greenland ice sheets melting at unprecedented rates decades ahead of scientific projections. The scientific community knows it. Industry knows it. Governments know it. Even the United States military knows it.

The chief of the US navy’s Pacific command, Admiral Samuel Locklear recently said that climate change is our single greatest security threat.

My friends, this body, perhaps more than any other gathering in human history now faces this difficult but achievable task.

You can make history or you will be vilified by it.

To be clear, this is not about just telling people to change lightbulbs or to buy a hybrid car. This disaster has grown beyond the choices that individuals make. This is now about our industries and our governments around the world taking decisive large-scale action. We need to put a price tag on carbon emissions and eliminate government subsidies for all oil, coal, and gas companies. We need to end the free ride that industrial polluters have been given in the name of a free market economy. They do not deserve our tax dollars, they deserve our scrutiny. For the economy itself will die if our ecosystems collapse. This is not a partisan debate, it is a human one. Clean air and a livable climate area inalienable human rights and solving this crisis is not just a question of politics. It is a question of our own survival. But now it is your turn.

The time to answer humankind’s greatest challenge, is now. We beg of you to face it with courage and honesty.

Thank you

Today’s lesson on the pad

Showing a new guy how to stake grades

So we paced out a grid and pounded in stakes at semi-even intervals

Always picking up where someone else left off

Using their existing grid, we paced ~16 m in Northing (a metre is approximately equal to a yard)

Again, using the existing grid, we paced ~13 m in Easting

Then I asked him to pace out the hypotenuse, it was ~21 m

The grid was for the most part at right angles to each other

To show the new guy how Pythagoras came to his theorem

I scratched a triangle in the crushed aggregate

On the side of the x-plane I scratched 16 m and on the side of the y-plane I scratched 13 m

The diagonal received a 21 m

Out came the notebook

16 squared plus 13 squared = ~21 squared

Using my iPhone calculator

256 plus 169 = ~21 squared
425 = ~21 squared
square root of 425 = ~20.6155281280883 or ~21

Then I grabbed my stick to scratch out a head, body, appendages, and finally a circle encompassing my proto-Vitruvian dude

Never thought work could be this fun!

A hundred and fifty years after Darwin's dangerous idea

The flaws are showing

If you look closely

You can see the storyteller's gathering

Rhythms of Al Gore
Put us to sleep
So we can remember
Fortunately, Clinton was a jazz
Man

Today, I am Grasshopper.

Pulling on many strings in preparation for a great leap

One small leap for a tiny, insignificant grasshopper seems like

Wisdom on a different plane

No safety net

Blindly jumping with eyes wide shut

Cause I'm goodwill hunting

I put God on the stand once
It didn't go so well
Omniscience doesn't translate
Into duality

'Tis
A roadmap

Each word, neigh each letter
Mindfully

Placed
And carefully tended

Cause this is how
Wild things grow

In the search for intelligent life in the universe

We are looking for a chemical signature

A CFC or chlorofluorocarbon (for short)

It's a molecule that we used in refrigeration and as a spray can effluent

It's also the molecule responsible for eating holes in our ozone layer

Doesn't sound like intelligent life to me

The Rheostatics, they bring all their equipment on the bus.

And you can't **** with the Rheostatics

You cannot **** with this band

I buried Wisdom & Folly at Indian Graves this afternoon

It was cut in three
The two halves I buried close to each other
When they come back on the next plane
They will have a better chance of finding each other in one piece

The tail, I left hanging on a tree

You don't need a tail to walk upright

Raven is near
She's paying her respects
And a Thunderbird does a fly-by

On the road once again
Haven't lost
Yahweh

Ohm thinking 'bout Indians
and Indios

Columbus and Dublin
Echoes and impermanence

Kanata and 'murica
**** yea

Maybe the Mormons got it right
An idea split in two

Like two brothers
Or twin souls

But always a third
Apes lost their tails but not their balance

Causality, a trinity
Of sorts

That's for you to sort out

Cause:
"Spectres...." ~ ~~ ~~~ Whitman

Coyote sleeps tonight
Rest well my friend

There is power in
ritual
In mindfulness
Can look like
unminded ness
But open minded ness
Isn't silliness
It's pragmatic

Today, the renaissance continues … with any luck
The words flow
So I follow - - > The poem of life
I am in the foothills of the Rocky Mountains
In a town called Okotoks
After breakfast, I’m driving West
First across the Sheep
Past Big Rock
Then west down the number 7
And through a Black Diamond

And again, across the Sheep - - > I don’t know how that works I’m just following the path

Taking a turn at Turner Valley
And on to the 22 and into K-country
Kundalini Country, perhaps
More likely Kananaskis
A vision of a great leader to set aside place and space
For beautiful things to grow
Now down the 549 and into the heart
I’ve hiked hearts ridge
Camped there in the dead of winter once
Only thing keeping me warm was a Nalgene bottle full of tea
And the down of our feathered friends
Insulated on a bed of air
And of course a shell from the face of the north

Tonight, I sleep at Indian Graves (Campground)
Latitude: 50.2417849636
Longitude: -114.362189631
Cause it’s here that I find answers
And I bet, if the land decides to speak, shares poetry

Built on a foundation of wormwood
Cause Absinthe makes the heart grow ... Blonder

Oops, having one of those moments
But isn't that sexist, Redler?
Yea, if you believe in duality
And I'm Dogmatica to an end
My end is Anisotropica
I got there through Riparia
And the Bidirectional Reflectance Distribution Function
BRDF for short
Basically, seeing all sides independent of illumination source
And, of course, interdependent of POV

Okely Dokely

Peas out

And care rotz

English literature
A gateway drug
To Divine Comedies
And Tradegies
Of the Commons
Always leading
To poetry
For the succinct
Prescient
Indirection
With discretion

I wrote a story once
And it came true

-- he sees farther than I
So I'll drink to that.
A toast to scotland.
We toasted royalty,
and so don't have to
pay any royalties . .. ...

--> concesssions were made I'm sure . .. ...
my grandfar would have seen to that.

A weav . ing
An intermingling
of signatures
Some faint
Certainly resonant

September 11

M.O.N.D.

Modified Newtonian Dynamics
... speed on the outside of the galaxy and the centre is the same ...
what about relativity?

In blackfoot I can talk about 2 days backward and 2 days forward
A 3 day road
That's it my friends

Don't go by the 12 month cycle
Like 50% of 7 billion
Go by the 13 moons
Circular?
Not quite
Time is repetitious
Reptilian
Might be a better interpretation

"Every year we perform the same ceremonies ...
We sing and chant the same songs
There is even repetition in the songs.
Medicine Wheels ...

The main axis is  aligned with the solstice
0.07 degrees off because of procession of axis
Possibly ...
Don't go past 2 days ...

September 12

Unaccountable, maybe ...

September 14

Not accounted for ... maybe not

You got a face not spoiled by joy
I've got some burns from fire by trials
You got blindfolds that can see right through me
You're not afraid of a requiem
I was told that I would feel nothing the first time
I don't know how these burns heal
But in you I found the time

If there is a light you can't always feel
And there is a veil we can't always heal
And there is teal we shouldn't doubt
And there it's alright, it won't go out

And this is a poem, poem for someone
This is a poem, poem for someone

You let me into the lyrics
A song only we could make
You break and enter my imagination
Whatever's in there it's yours to take
I was told I'd feel nothing the first time
You were slow to heal but this could be the night

If the night is alight
And the world can't see
If you are dark, angel
I'll be the light, it won't ever go out

And this is a song, song for someone
This is a song, a song for someone

And I'm a long way from Spy Hill of Calgary
And I'm a long way from where I was but I need it to be
If there is a blindfold you can't always see
And there is a world we can always be
If there is a kiss I stole as Logan
And there is a dark, don't let it go out

Built on the Berkley model
Paid for with mothers essential oils
...a bitumen

And a flower blooms from Medicine Rock
Like a ballerina

As the Old Man weeps joyfully

"Don't tell me the poets ... "

I write poetry that is both incorporated
And incorporeal ... and un and un and un
It is done

On the pad : and off

Hop - Lily

On the tailgate
In the truck
Boots on the ground
In the muck

Put on your Carhartt's
It's time to get *****
Even better

Grab your Old Man's work clothes
Finish the job
That He didn't want to start

Don't tell me the poets are ******* crying

We're living
And we're dying

Careful though
The warlords have come into the jungle and slaughtered before

But we live again
A little more angry
A little less wise

--> **** **** up, juveniles

Shoplifters of the world ...
untie

Bare naked ladies and Lenin following an age of Aquarius idiosyncrasy

shitshow

I don't want to know no white album

I'm working my way towards the black album

Cause Alicia Keys can resonate in many keys ...

... Says Dylan in his Chonicles

--> my authenticity lies in the between

620 nm or is it 770 nm

Whatever,  it's a sliding scale, a slippery *****, is what I use to shed my skin

Follow the pheromones, or the Ramones, says Bono and the Edge

Today I am übermensch
because yesterday I became who I am.

And I thought that yesterday all my troubles seemed so far away.

Dogma U

Up the slide
Let's go for a ride
Start at the middle
Slip and slide
Down into Hades ...

U amGod