there is always more beneath
the surface of seas, skins, and deep sighs
these visible clues, cues, and rues
tip off the astute to a sublime prime with possible power
the antonym and antidote to social media political posts
worlds in nether realms
offset the cliff bells
erasing the modern monotone monolith ringing tinnitus to us all

awaking in the middle
of an early walk
it matters not
what I do today
it matters not
if any thing matters perennially
in intent or outcome
worth not a while -
for the leaves golden
just below
an autumn september expanse
of still steel light
and my lungs get filled
to capacity with life itself
three strides - in inhale
exceeding walking meditation -
walking rumination
meager wisdom illume
that today's matters
are too wonderful for me to understand
and so
I understand it all
competently, completely
as the bishop knew jean valjean
as the universe knows a seed
with each abeyant breath

i heard that
the supreme compliment or gift
is one's attention
and tonight's moonrise broadcast
has mine -
(and the coyotes)
completely

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.

Stand on letdown point
And check out the view
Can you see beyond it?
Those that can seem few

I hoped you would be one
Seeing impermanent shores
Able to speak of the possible
But you've left me here once more

There are larger nights
Where suns dance away
    On western shores
Quieting creatures
Before they unleash
    Wild howls, primal roars
Where deep drink lovers
Tangle in easily
    And desire more
Where all is echoed
Nothing is mortal
Raw souls together
   Glimpse evermore

let us travel beyond
the lacking narrative
in our upcoming
eulogies

forced phrases
hostile headlines
useless euphemisms
knotted nonsenses

deficient and lacking
squeezing
complicated lives
into poems

rather
the old echo
still beats in our hearts
the preexisting condition
of the soul
invisible truths
clearly seen
prose...handing us the
hall pass to
doors
not entered
in awhile

now
with our deepest
and most satisfying
breath
lets be
quiet together
the ancients have
tried to pass
down
this
we are no-age
man in
no-age
land
the wind of
our soul
speaks
there is only
good between
us in the
cool air of this
evening
putting aside weights
casting off burdens
let us consider
grace
and now
my friend
create
and
walk
in the wonder that has
been awaiting
your arrival

wow, what exactly just happened?
not déjà vu, really
more of stars aligning in my direction
dripping a divine drop
a touch
from that which resides in the recess of the mystery
of the notyetknown

Some go ahead, to trip or prize
To allow common day
Some go on further, to their end
Relief and win at lay
Some go past, eyes-filled guilt or pride
To that which won't return
Some go further, to never was
Utopian bliss-filled yearn
Few stay here, hearing today's bird
Perceiving now's great space
Magic greater than fore or aft
Mind and body in place

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

oh, you smart modern congregation
tell me, what exactly is stored in your barns?
how profound is thy soul’s ache for divine treasure?
is your instinctual compass correctly tuned?
does the tongue give life?
your own eye plank removed?
have you worked it out?
been filled with light?

or, do you remain crippled by fear?
deeply frightened by inconvenience?
fallen too deeply for your high security fortifications?

oh no! your growing paralysis returns!
and the rise of your stage presence
while exerting your home crafted gavel
on the holy observances of beer, curriculum, square footage, and service length
eroded by lofty incantations, stanzas of gibberish
perpetuating the operation of the institution
without a corner on truth, the convenient followers
indulging on driveways, bashing your empathy

let go of your systematic card house!
meditate on the
                other than
on your knees…let the soul cry!
beyond the void, illuminate anew
consider Creator, and the power of your dormant empathy
love love love
let it be re-written on your heart!

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

we are all from women
women try to become as good of women
as where they're from
or much much improved
men are from women too
but don't understand their origins
remotely
and try to connect with another woman
who is usually
some sort of version
of their origin

With quick detachment
    from the school of fish
Down depths darkened
    to majority's wish
Resolve gracious endeavors,
    minds still free
Love and kindness hides
    in ****** poetry

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

how confidently a retired businessman told me I was wrong
how my political views were uneducated, naive and off-base
strongly, then loudly, then in my face
I’m not one to spend my evenings this way, arguing-arguing
I don’t even argue with my wife or teenage sons
life is so short, energies must be spent elsewhere
but the businessman continued building his 95 theses against me
how he knew!
my skewed foundational beliefs, an ignoramus!
ever stronger and ever louder
and I did not respond, as I was not given an opportunity
and I stopped listening, as his face flushed with emotion
thinking how the businessman was lost
at some point, he may have
stopped setting his naked eye to the dark craters of the morning moon
forgotten the more humbling vantage points
that guide away from certainty’s comforts
sifting here and now and us and paint-smeared cloudscapes
un-comprehend
    unlearn
        and gain gratitude’s heart
wake with a smile from a secret source
embedded in predisposition
he has lost his kindness and wisdom
not because he is right or wrong
but because he has blinded himself, as many have
to the quickly found shallow world
so he put me in a category of folks he has encountered before
and I did the same to him
neither of us the wiser
until I stood up in front of him and walked away as he was still ranting
bending over to pet a very friendly dog

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

don't call me unworthy that I'm not something else
my strengths are my flaws, you see that
let's list them, shall we?
too generous in negotiation
overly trusting, overtly gullible
giving the benefit of the doubt, freely
but you must see, a minuscule biological THING bumped the pendulum
and it swung wildly, early on
opening visibility into human potential
that souls are blind to themselves
you see their flaws so clearly
peering through a horse bridle
or night vision goggles
dampening all but bright-red heated flaws in 2D shallow depths
I understand your frustration
You have a job to do
And I am weeping through my beard
and belly-laughing for something they did twenty years before they died

if un-packed
i'm a hack
way on back
of the pack
and my yak
yak yak yak
lost the knack
off a rack
my kettle's black
pure hipo-crack

but, I do know
i'm here to grow
still starting slow
with highs and lows
but I won't glow
till I forgo
this eating crow
on death's plateau
with status quo
so here i go

sitting - finally now
at day's end
imagining
this evening will not last long
but still - it lasts long enough
for my mind to forget some
of this rotation's subtle niceties
and focus on uglier regrets
    suddenly
becoming - THE WORLD
crashing it's weight down
and cognizant flight
goes left and right!
what must be done?!
    a long walk? fresh oxygen!
    alcohol!
    that cigar bar?
    that other bar I saw?
but before I can quickly medicate
my same mind
    calls up that night
we laughed so hard
together
the way you smiled
and I strain
with every bit of heart I have left
to hear your voice
with hope
that my shoulders
can let it all go

remembering a high school photography teacher
teaching that it doesn't matter
that a similar photo had been done before
what matters is that I have not done it before

with that in mind
I went on a break of day hike
carrying as much concern for originality
as a grasshopper
or Shakespeare

to the top of the Boulder flatirons
approaching from the east
arriving at a rocky cliff
of the same flat sandstone rock
that the flatirons themselves were forged
where a bench had been constructed
from dozens of stone pieces
tucked into the cliff
with still enough distance from civilization
that one could only hear the faintest siren
positioned to receive the mid-morning sun
I accepted the invitation
to recline and relax my eyes
to consider
the collection
of other high school lessons
most of a training to perpetual middle-class non-identity
but occasionally
something worth remembering

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

eighteenth century basement pub
a scot's alliance grew
with titanic thirst for fear's end
each rabbit hole they flew

intent on custom prison break
union drop'd from revel
no suffering o' comparison
in truth, all, on the level

so it was and endures today
for those with woken heads
who cast off cares of aversion
for soul’s empathy instead

in the days that open Spring
bestoyed to its residents
    newfound dreams
and ridding of arctic air
   that ruled the wind
reminding winter to rescind
this moment in time
    decisions, it seems
are made by the meek
   turned rulers and kings
as the earth and moon must know
to grant a few days to gentle souls -who-
like the newborn cubs and flowers
have some sort of understanding
    with heaven's powers

Two hundred foot shadows, I cast with ease
While steam dances away from porched coffee
With blinding light, I recall last night
    <grin>
Morning's inhale, quiet peace

With a background track of
Still cool desert air
I am capable
Despite hopeless rhetoric waves
To focus on an image of prominence
Receive, I can, this moment
My skin seems to appreciate
The cloudless desert bathing
New Mexican green chili
Digests slowly in euphoric pulses
An ecstasy in newness
An esthetic level of interest
Opening its petals to a sunrise
But the sun has set
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
Laid before me in stark clarity
Secret cosmic powers to the best imagination sources
Indeed, the essential novelty of it all
Primative forces that foretell
A forgotten language
I know intimately
Only given to the subscribers
Of the magnificent
    graceful rə-ˌzē-ˈstän(t)s
To shackles, or any limits
To the most boundless breaths
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

Community center laughter
Raising its false-eerie falsetto
To a decibel that unlocks
Fantasies of vomits
Why didn't I bring a flask?
I'm owner to the darkest mind in the room
But I can describe beauty with
Tears and heart
Are you too chickenshit?!
Too committed now to your own death
Of small talk, small words, and small ideas
I'm surrounded by slow moving train wrecks
My God, I need to get outside and find a flower

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?

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

ignorance is not bliss nor kiss
interest charts a new course
sanctioned preceded expansion
infinity’s deep heart

diatribes of desperation
too wonderful for job
standing on shoulders of giants
visibility ‘n hope

When eyes can't look to you to answer
The subpar common english greeting
    "How's it going"
And the only uttered response is
    "Peachy Keen"
With that wavering inflection
    the "eeeeen" continuing
        an unnatural length of time
What they are really saying
Is that they are fighting a terrific battle
A struggle-filled battle
Caused by
    their own neglect to admit failure
    not wanting to acknowledge
        a life turning out...not how their eight year...or seventeen year old optimism expected
And the untold spaces between their quick high octane
    awe-inspiring
        and beauty-filled social media posts
Live longer bouts of dejected dis-coloration

And none of it is real
And the collapse of this dis-ingenuity may have been fueled
By terrific loss
But it's impending collapse
    (if they survive)
May just awaken the truth-soul itself
To finally come out and say "hello"

deserving nothing
so you say, with great audacity
proclaiming all as gifts
proclaiming what has been overcome

you appear now before me
    sitting in your canoe
    at the bottom
    of the drained-empty lake

victorious!

in the universe
    or universes
    or beyond, perhaps
is enough unknown
    worthy of learning
if just to appreciate
if just to understand
the magnitude
of my ineptitude
to make me unable
to give any time
to know-it-alls

as a barista
continues to call out
desperately searching
for the poor lost soul
who ordered the
pumpkin spiced latté
only to vanish into
the darkest depths of
societal, civilized obscurity
so i stand before you
holding out
all my gifts

A kid told me
The only way to really share something
Is to "share a picture of it
With a poem
And a detailed description
Then talk about it for while"

And I admit
He's pretty much right
But even then
Do we ever really
Get to completely share
Everything of Anything at all?

That does not mean we're alone
Just that
    (Like anything)
When there is something shared
On a deep level
    (aka least fraudulent level)
We should not take it
Lightly

So I'm asking
How excited
About the sky
Do you get?

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

Space time stretches
Each spring
Days get longer
Morning illuminates
Neighbors walk their dog in pajamas
And all rush off
With no time to spare

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?

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

perspective lost in current caste
fractured scenes through warped glass?
vertigo pools below highest dives
grass' color, either side?
dear friends who turn and wound
mirages of heros and majority rule?

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

What? Conscious mindtrick
Souls impassioned to each other
To hold
To drink wine
To whisper through the stillness of an evening
In talk so sacred only the ancient ancestors and unfeathered spirits can comprehend
    And pour a cup of their own to listen and laugh in joy
To love your life and see another's perfection as a full moon backdrop sunset dripping with the thickest ink with the most colorful pigment
Dear lovely
Dear sweet breaths
Your cheeks tell the story
Here I am not afraid

early on the dock
the shipping dock

peaks peaking out atop
flatirons and boulders
still holding snowpack

some captains awake in their cabins
others guide their crafts to port
arrivals from madison, aurora, santa fe
hulls of soybeans, corrugate, and lotion

on the dock
reading efficiency and transit reports

quick greetings to the captains
then talk of black coffee
of nicaraguan beaches
of all that is easily accessed
by the regulated echoes
written on each soul

while small sparrows investigate
mullein and hawthorn
in tall yellowing grasses
and towering windswept clouds
move silently
across a dark exploding
dawn’s expanse
revealing the intentions
for the day
and all
start a new rotation together

To the mothers pouring coffee
On mother's day
    In to-go cups
Handing them to half-awake dads
    Who take it to their co-parent
Still asleep
In between satin, down
    and flannel king size ambien sheets

To the mothers, who reason
This holiday to be their last
Summoning ancient strength
Yet again, at the end
    For their own

To the mothers
Who made plenty of mistakes
Who let their kids down
And somehow
Someway
Have swallowed all pride
To do their best, now

Thank you

This life-sacrifice IS seen
But is too often, too heavy
And holy
And sacred a thing
To speak about

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

Almost all hide truth
Almost all
It is the few that are essentially mad
Who expose the private
Compulsively divulge
Who, nakedly unknow
    any and all shakles
No time to receive
    your judgements
They're busy with deep enlightened laughs
    for days
And we dare not overcome our terror to look these souls in the eye
These tidal waves of truths
These callers out of our ****
These unpredictable prophets!
There's no telling where they may point their magnifying glass!