pensively breathe
as the breeze - pleases -
subtle dancing summer leaves
of the mother, a ritual
call out the soul
from dna truths
drop tribal rue
back to air to lung to soothe

Backroom deals
And basement squeals
Sacrificed morals
For comp'd meals

Sacrifice of soul
To gain its full
And the whole world
Unworthy the toll

Palpable grin
Over a dark within
Forfeit to shallows
And a life too thin

All mystery
Is prone to interpretation
So grab it by the jowls
To the roar awakened

Don't, for a second,
Believe your familiarity equal
To the obsessed appreciator
Because you studied the author
Or painter, in school
How vague the prefrontal cortex, the memorization of Wikipedia (or generation Encyclopedia Britannica) or MFA syllabus bullet points
Focused on the minute details of joyful
Operatic beauty personification were you?
Or the mark delivered by a professor
The essay, the test?
Or the cute one in the class?
Or the one which your over-achieving spirit must compete?
Brilliance discovered in work you GET  outside of such demands is a stark difference indeed

Brood to face the fear
Chief restrainer of create
To work that matters more
Dual directors of all fate

Both exchanges guide
To the very steps that lead
Potential’s portion pours
An opulent elixir bleed

Living now in the age
We face a willful test
Love and charity are daily as well
Although we notice less

We don't fight hate with hate
Or give up hope for all
Through pain we conquer heart
We unparalyze for call

Summoned now, it is our time
So we push past fear
Our ancestors beat such terror
We have in us, that's clear

So hope on, hope on
We won't give up or in
We will learn through many trials
Past terror and tears we'll win

Slow down as slow as possible
Fill lungs with sky
Use your feet to feel the earth
Feel it all, think high

as my neighbors air conditioners blaze
someone has to sit outside
take long mental logs
of the reluctant halfmoon
behind such white cotton candy cloud formations
this cerulean filled july afternoon
cottonwood shade, swirling breeze
ample enough for me
to find grace
ample enough for grace
to find her voice

more the same
we were and are
then any difference
struggle or scar

there is no them
only us
can't bomb ourselves
enough - enough -

needs demanded
second to free
forgive and love
listen and see

suicidal subsides
to hope made clear
the great let go
facing all fear

Know know know
Know know know
No no no
No no no
Let it go
Let it go
To feel at all
Feel it all
Singe your mind
Find more love inside

The universe can best be heard
Through ears that hug tired grins
In an alpine trek’s midday doze
Drenching deep gratified skin
Here whispered wares can wish for loss
Echoing down snowmelt creeks
With mouse, rock and wildest flower
Sound the ethers, stars and peaks

modernity's cost
synonymous with loss -
moral bits of sanity
filled with hyper-vanity
cured solely with long droughts
between button pushing bouts
to clarity kept
    to steps and depths

Life truth lies in subtle realms
As the smallest streams story
    Is never straight
Flames and streams bend with ease
The cleansing part is both reflect
    Our soul's intent
It is the curve that holds beauty
It is the bump we desire
And all are capable sirens
After acquiring the flexion
    Of the old celestial song

happening upon
a sacred sandstone scene
not seen coming
not intended
now illuminated
through blindness of modernity
mother nature's sweat lodge
floating and fleeting
soaring to sourcing
consciously sharp to the present
each sweatdrop, each heartbeat,
each wisdom
there are one, then two
then ten thousand
not passingly noticed
but known intimately
petroglyphs etched into
mind body soul

With a background track of
Still cool desert air
Crickets sing their song
My skin seems to appreciate
The cloudless desert bathing
New Mexican green chili
Digests slowly in euphoric pulses
Lost track of time
I'm not usually up at this hour
Lost track of tomorrow's worry
Not even sure what it was or for
All friends at the mountaintop
All love on dirt streets
All simple
All art
Life is Beautiful
It's not over
It has returned in Enormity

After spending all winter
In shoes and boots
My feet were put to their
Summer test
With a five mile trek
    see yellow butterflies!
    see the wild columbines!
In flip flops
And the blisters
And the pain
In an illogically brilliant manner
Make me deeply
    and happily
        satisfied

Notch and notch we need knocked down
We right and proud with funds
Comfort grown in chiseled mirrors
Till all - withdrawal - that comes

Prostitutes meet messiahs
And cast offs tend their friends
The high and mighty turn goats
Most alone at the ends

Pained eyes in worn jeans with holes
Are souls that bare torn seams
We the broken down machines!
We the broken down dreams!

some prodigal son's sense
all life, and what it's for
not all are altruistic
not all sweet spirit pours

the old neighborhood endures
with occasional calls
holding hope for hopeful news
or for derelict falls

he bare for maker and all
and to the code, less care
to the benefit of less
he the poured out prayer

jump inside the lavish paints
the american southwest
with scenes from first and final
and vision impetus

here all gaining is gained by loss
starting with sacreds held dear
first minutes and the hours
then all the years, then fears

long open soliloquy
lost in expanse of sky
exerts from creative souls
absorbing desert dry

Finished my work day
Kicked ***
    Smoked a big cigar at lunch
Now waiting for a friend
    To come for dinner
I think we'll open
    That Japanese whiskey
        I've been holding onto

I don't look the part
    But business suits me
        I'm ruthlessly practical
            I deliver results

I studied to be a minister
Suiting me less

Suitability being appropriate; fitting; proper, befitting, seemly, apt

I thought myself a proper minister
As thinking
    Is my favorite past time
But patrons of such groups
Don't love thinking too much

Left that path
Called ******* at the temple
And didn't look back

I'm not much of a poet
It suits me least
    But I write
        write
            write
                write
And I'm allowing this path
To take me downstream
To larger, slower, quieter waters
Where souls rest
Until then
I'll enjoy the feel of
    the cool current best I can
How 'bout you?

Roll the dice and get naked
Expose a bit of you
Release your passion failed dreams
Over a drink or two

Of profit more ones that aren't
Over the ones that are
Success dams affable souls
That pour true tales of scars

My father
Climbed mountains
Most of his life
And he could not hide
His impatience
At my youths
lack of stamina
Strength
Resolve
Determination
And now I climb mountains
Though they
Are not technical
Mountaineering feats
Like he conquered
I do climb them
Still
And my father struggles
To keep up
With his failing body
With his failing mind
And returning
From such a trip
I realized
I've been
Rather impatient about it

Forget not to one day die
First cognizance, first know
Penetrating place and pace
Go go go...and...then...go

Rumored shores tickle all fears
But further petting hope
Causality disbelief
Antediluvian cope

Gifts from departing you must give
Should include beauty's fold
All that all can give must be
Leaving back less untold

Don't shy to artistic next
Because of it's unknown
Abate not long echo reign
Unable to postpone

I take walt seriously
For the questions
Question me
   untamed and reoccurring
They -
Aren't from him
    No, they're not from him
They -
Are light through
    a cracked door
They -
Are rumors told
    of secluded shores
They -
Are forcible ripples
    for what
        and who
           they're for

Sunrise explosion!
Sneaking up on no one
But the unawake
    At life, at the day
But to the awake...BANG!
And the planet we are on in all
    its Enormity
    and prism power - atmosphere
Separates the radioactive
    explosion
That is traveling
299,792,458 miles per second
From 93 million miles away
    (a whole 8 minute journey)
From a hot body
With a 432,288 mile radius
of glowing
    exploding gas
That, upon reaching us
Is recklessly
    Smashed
Into all potential tertiary shades
Of cerulean and sapphire
Of marigold and sandstone
Of shades beyond identifiers
    (we all experience them
    differently anyhow)
And for these opening moments
    of the day
All masterpiece paintings
    appear as preschool throwaways
And as quickly as the calm chaos enters
It stage exits
    On account
        Of the 432k mile monstrosity
            That will blind
                Any
                    Who dared look at it

Good morning.

I went to the Bookstore today
    (can't do tablets or laptops
    when smoking cigars
    and
    ...also hate tv...don't like
    the way it makes me feel
    or other people look)
In downtown Boulder, Colo
Which, if you've never been
Displays fresh prints of Dave Eggers
And Edward Abbey
    In an 1899 erected structure
        That formerly hosted
            Ballroom dances
                Orchestras
                    And secret societies
It's not Powells in Portland, Ore
    (old school state abbreviations...
    deal with it)
But it's better for me
    Because I'm here
And it was a beautiful day
Even after losing at chess
    to a brilliant fool
    just outside
I couldn't help myself
    From browsing the poetry section
        In its entirety
(Only here for the $3.75 copy of the Poetry Foundation's monthly)
And I noticed an increase
    In fresh copies of Hafiz
    Same for Bukowski
    And Ginsberg
Keats was nowhere to be found
Typically, Shakespeare, Whitman,
    Wordsworth...are everywhere
I wondered if the American compilation
    by Garrison Keillor
    is worhwhile
There were dozens
    And dozens
        Of masters
            That I have not spent time with
Not "spent time"
Perhaps read a bit
    But not, connected with enough
    that I could say...I got it
    Not a fully aligned get
    But an education
        And appreciation
            To one who has pushed the craft
            in their own way
Or left me weeping
    at brilliance of love and language
But I resisted said temptation
    Of rampant reckless bookbuying
        And got my magazine
But on my drive home
    In the far East reaches of the county
        (Boulder's real estate no longer
        grants us commons much access)
    I stopped at tiny used book shop
        Bought an old copy of
            D. H. Lawrence poetry
                for a few bucks
And by the time I got home
To take inventory of tea
    Of coffee
        Of wine and cigars

I was rather pleased
    Pleased with myself
For I looked forward
    To the read
        To the sky
        To living soul free
            Once again

I recited some poems
    from old English masters
At a recent funeral
And the christian minister
    asked me afterward
If I have found
    Much poetry
        In the bible

Being rather familiar with the text
I stood there
    Silently confused
        And didn't get to respond
            Before he walked away
                grab handing the flock

I did not understand
Had he not read the psalms?
The writings of Solomon?
Or David?
The song from Mary?
Had he not read the first chapter
    of Genesis?
Had he not thought of Paul
    quoting pagan poets?
Did he know of the
    Hebrew rhyme
        in the song of songs?
The original language letters
    of the longest psalm, 119
Had he never meditated
    day and night
       on Jesus' intro
            to the sermon on the mount?

Perhaps I misunderstood
    his question
Or, perhaps, he misunderstood
    the whole entire thing

There's a dude
I talk to
Every time I buy a bottle of
Something good
    Chateauneuf du pape
    Topshelf Japanese whiskey
    Rare Spätburgunder
Not even Hemingway
    Or his characters
        Would dare open these alone
So I make arrangements
With the dude
And we drink slow
    While many others
        Circle around
            Come and go
And we drink it all
    With silent smiles
        While others tell tales
    
And there's a secret pact made
Each time
That we are the only ones
Tasting artist perfection

While all others
Seem to just taste
'Drink'

sitting in my crowded shop
line is near the door

the coffee, doing nothing for me
and I write the words,

“going slow, not always careful
fast isn't always that rash
there are breaths which are not wasted
when put to life before ash”

and

the meter and rhyme is
    ripped from emily dickinson
    ripped from her childhood choir’s rendition of amazing grace
    ripped from old anglo-saxson pubs
    ripped from chaucer’s friends
        roman soldiers
            or who the hell knows

but…

i'm not sure what those lines are echoing
because I’m so freakin' exhausted
wow, this week…
I didn't sleep well
and haven't slept well for some time
but who can sleep well at a time like this?
there is so much to learn
so much to live for
so many sunrises to take in

ya, that’s the truth

and maybe that’s what those lines are
as my thoughts begin catching up to my hand
and maybe others will see what I see
either way, I got a few words out
bring on the day

it remains superfluous
to dive straight into the deep
darkest corridors and tunnels
    to detect pure light

or is it?

for the curious shake fear off
for precisely such missions -

how else can it come
but by love and truth
powerful enough
to tear the universe's fabric
and break through?

Unknowing is birth of wisdom
Better to abstain from judge
Most inceptions are so certain
Then collapse after a nudge

Unknowing is birth of wisdom
Better to abstain from judge
Most inceptions are so certain
Then collapse after a nudge

There are fields that call me out
That I have never seen
Only way I know they are
The feeling in between

Meadows filled with four-legged furs
And older rooted greens
I fit in just fine with them
And I like what I seem

When visits become seldom more
For reasons unforeseen
The call rings to wake my soul
Reminds me of true me

Feet planted firmly
On the earth
At a favorite park
Sky is vibrant
Exploding with color
High altitude
    enormous Clouds
The kind that could get dark and angry
If they wanted to
But will probably leave
Well enough alone today
There is no wind
And I am here
Looking for the truest truth
I can find
Which seems to be
Only heard
In ears lacking arrogance
And I
Standing here
Am going to have to carefully
And gently
Listen
    to hear it

I could settle for cups of Folgers
Self picked dandelion tea
And PBR
In exchange for more time
    with soft sunsets

It's not the one who goes along
Who holds the real power
Nor the loudest demanding voice
That pretends, then cowers

He who holds Virtue's endowment
Doesn't command the room
The perceived misfitted outcast
Who, when dark, they come to

First, come to grips with death
Face the fear
Then move on
Then work your *** off
Giving yourself completely
To your artistic passions
And mountain climbing adventures
And once you've failed
Hundreds of times
Learn from the masters
Be the most absorbent sponge
Capable of soaking up
The whole ******* thing
And take your passions
The ones that are beautiful
The ones that make other creatures
Be filled with awe of something
That is so greatly, greater than
That has been divinely touched
And breathed on from the beyond
And allow
Just allow
That passion to take you
All the way
Downstream

The greatest fear
Most westerners hold
Is losing their conveniences

But missing art
And its grace unfold
Gets my trepid allegiances

Today
Is simply
Too magnificent
And beauty-filled
To feel as low, as I do

Is it
That I viewed
Some flawed fool
Capable of holding my gold
Trust sold cheap, a painful rue

Or the
Simple truth
Perhaps, I am
The mercurial shift
Along with the sands and infinity too

Or that
I've been blind
To said beauty's bound
An ample and abundant spread
Amongst the slews of trivial miscues

Likely
I avoid
Freedom's siren ring
For familiar's amenity chains
Electing convenience over break-through