Wax myrtles slip
Sideways on bodies-
Their brothers, 
Buried beneath fresh soil 
Of an ancient Earth,
Mixed amongst
The loblolly pines
That caper with the breeze.

* * *

Sad nights shift
To dreary days
And ashen clouds 
Soak in the light
Until they all 
Ignite in flames
And lose their strength 
Or will to fight.
They lie alone 
In sheets of wind
On beds of air 
And thoughts,
And, patiently, 
They wait to end
Their lives 
And be forgotten.

* * *

Long after,
We sit and wonder
Whether palatial skies
Will fall like rain
Away from us,
Torrents of dreams
Abandoned
For to sleep.

The River of the Painted Rocks inspires a heartfelt allegory , imparted unto Butterfly and Zinnia , River to Seashore , Hill Country to a grateful resident .. May White-tailed Deer appear from her woodlands at Dawn and graze upon her open countryside forever ! ......

Where the river was born and bred
'Neath the gird of Appalachia , nurtured from 'The Crag-
of Arariel' .. Freed , to explore the foothills of Mother Georgia -
through hardwood scape and granite juncture  
O'er Red clay valleys , shale to sandstone impediment-  
and piedmont cascade
Bitter travails seeking the 'discernment' of sea ..

Faith in the tempered evening , for the Friday night reverberation -
of hometowns just over the Shamrock green horizon
For the day end Amber-glow of well kept -
Summer gardens
Blessed is the power of tonights Harvest Moon
The Suns early dedication to the Chattahoochee flora of the coming June
For morning dew prisms that ignite rolling hayfields
For talking Indian rivers , Railroad townships and period Flour Mills

There’s a little place we used to go
Our second home that’s where we’d call
It was a little running of river
If you can call muddy water a river at all
We named it the Chattahoochee
Don’t know when, don’t know why
Just liked the sound of this name
Where we could give love a try
So we fogged up the windows
Of my old pickup truck and car
Turns out we learnt a little about love
Though the lesson didn’t get too far
I was willing but she wasn’t ready
So I went and bought us a burger and a snowcone
I dropped her off early
(But I didn’t go home ;)
Those were good times
Stretched out by the river on Friday nights
Watching the fireflies
Talking by pale moon light
Dreaming about love
Talking about women
Just a few cans of beer
And living for the minute.
It was at Chatahoochee
That I learned who I was
A little bit of silence
A little bit of love
Chattahoochee was a place
Was not much but it’s where I learnt to smile
Well you might as well
Life goes on for only a little while

Under the I-20 bridge
over the Chatta-
'hoochee suits me
fine as fishin' line

- I've been retried
and found
I ain't wanted

nothing but a winter coat -
my sweet mutt Woof
- an old six string Martin
and a 'frigerator carton

for sleeping in the winter wind
when the sun don't shine -

I don't have a bone to pick
- my fingers ain't quiet as quick
and nimble on a riff - my back is stiff
- but my voice is still whiskey

smooth and my words turn
water into thunderbird - wine

retried suits me just fine
- jailhouse jeans
and salvation army boots -
refried beans and cheap cheroots
- sitting on an old truck tire
around an open fire

I've been  retried and trued
but I ain't yet retired -

somebody's got
to feed my dog -
sing some songs
- catch these fish
and start the fire -
drink a little *****

- 'neath the I-20 bridge
over the Chattahoochee

rivaaa····

r ~ 10/16/14

Box Elder arms brace for the wrath of the December wintertide monster , naked and forlorn the defenseless struggle onward , Rock bass shine like polished silver in sluggish , crystalline waters
Lakesongs and velvet moss with dancing Birch motion , Crows begin to quote each note verbatim with rehearsed , telltale emotion
Creek rocks command the jetty , foundation and cattle harbors
Morning brooks continuously speak of a hidden , silent struggle* ...

Draw hither golden blade , brother to sassafras and veronica
Purveyor of delicate , sanguine architects in pastoral visage
Of ebony cloth cooling evergreen shadows within -  
Rosin incense , spearmint infused morning dew seasoning
o'er felled timber escarpments , Summer rain infusions of
petit , lavender violet corsage and August whimsy
Petrichor , Persimmon Clover bouquets , juvenile , song filled
brook-sides , poetic diamond studded sandbars , Chattahoochee
Crayfish , Shellcracker , Blue Heron land of Creek and Cherokee
fathers
Of Towaliga , Bear , Moccasin , Indian streams
Emerald swept low country isles , songbird arbors , peridot waterways
beside whitewashed shoreline* ...

Where the stars are my own
With a guitar and a private audience
of killdeer to critique my songs
Where daffodils and yellow bells bloom
just for me
Where hardwoods bear new foliage at my discretion in
every tree
Where the rain taps the same song on a tin roof
Where picture perfect Alabama sky cradles the
Harvest Moon* ..

I have in my hand , the very dollar bill , was a cash settlement for postage stamps in Chattahoochee Hills , same bill that fed the Kitty at a strip joint in Dallas ,  bought a Charms Sucker at a bowling alley in Texarkana ! Helped pay the rent on a duplex in Santa Fe , went toward the water bill in Reno , Nevada.  On its way to New Orleans , handed off by a trucker in Abilene . Handed over to a **** dealer from Chattanooga , wound up in a offering plate in Kalamazoo , Michigan !

I frequently attempt to capture home on a canvas
But despite all the good this does my soul
oils and turpentine do little for the city of Atlanta
If you were to ask me why I loved Atlanta.
You would know me as you would a brother
My first kiss
my best friends who no longer live there
that time when me and Jacob were so ******* over it that we spent 4 hours throwing rocks at the Chattahoochee hoping it would change something

And know nothing of I-285, Jimmy Carter, or Hartsfield-Jackson

And as I explain love.
With little interest in its subject
I feel that Orpheus would have empathized

Kinetic waves of sweet water blessings , steaming blacktop
thoroughfares , trickling from gutter caps , rushing from downspouts , tapping my bedroom window like a childhood friend calling me to venture out
Petrichor melodies , Sun glistening Red Tip hedges
Wetted , diamond zoysia gardens
Culling roadside berries with cool naked
feet , with operatic fantasia rumbles the ubiquitous ' Thunder Roll ' , Blackbird gaggles resume their familiar treetop chorus in the ebony sky retreat of the afternoon Chattahoochee Summer heat* .......

Precious , precocious Bluebird fledglings ,
seeking their bravado in the Red Tip hedges
Ruby Hummers running circles 'round Swallowtail dancers ,
Anoles playing tag in the Red Rose bramble
Chipmunks hard at work 'neath the Weeping Willow canopies ,
Bumblebees and Yellowjackets claim the stone- fruit
trees while aromatic Gardenia , Magnolia and Pine Sage belong
to Paper Wasp , Honey and Cuckoo Bees  
The Sunshine a long lost lover , the broom sage a friend
yet discovered
Cherokee brothers visit the Chattahoochee lowlands , Thor
rumbles on the Alabama border , the sky a mosaic of brilliant
hues , purple flowered grasslands and Morning Glory blues

Walking the surrealistic byways of creative bliss
Through Cat hair grass within the fingerling forest ...
Good morning to Uncle White Pine , to my Cousin Brown Thrasher reading my mind ! To red rosy clay and chipper Mr. Soapstone , to Mayflies granting wishes and Chattahoochee crawfishes ...
The Gulf breeze telegraphing the wonderment of forest song with love
for all .. To the playful King Sun hiding behind the cloud bank to the
old gray Opossum hanging upside down , bluffing sleep on a lonesome Cherry branch .. Warm wishes fill my dreams while picking tea cups from a 'Story Tree' , each with a serving dish , hot refreshments and lively conversation with a well read ****** , a witty Fox , a Woodpecker poet and a guitar picking Catfish ..

Thick fog breaks across West Point Lake ...
Bass boats and crappie fishermen , tour boats and skiers
skim across her blue looking glass , Wood Ducks test the skies
northbound up the Chattahoochee River , bank anglers anchor poles
along her fortified edges .. White granite boulders visible from the mid-line .. Indigo hope and dreams as starlings silhouette her morning miracle , shad minnows skim the blue mirror , visiting gulls feast along quiet shoreline . A tall Georgia Pine mirage forms in tranquil coves , early day crows call hysterically from the hardwood thickets .. Turtles occupy muddy banks , Whitetails quietly graze worked fields , dragonflies and monarchs  incessantly toil beneath the strengthening heat of Summer , baldfaced hornets fortify their paper rampart high atop a lone River Birch ...

Country boy you haven't lived till you see the lights on Peachtree Street..
I could say the same thing about the fireflies on a July evening ,
The Buckhead nights on the north side of Atlanta ,
The solitude with your maker on the Chattahoochee River ..
A baseball game at Turner Field on a May afternoon ,
a flock of Wild turkey's against the setting Sun in June ..
Piedmont Park and the Botanical Garden ,
Wood Ducks feeding on a quiet , country pond in late August ..
People watching at a outdoor cafe in Midtown ,
Meditating amongst the Tall Pines with no one around ..
The High Museum and the Downtown nights ,
The morning call of Crows with the first glimmer of sunlight ..

What does it take for a quick fix ? A photo opportunity , pictures of you in the public mix ? Front page headline ! Standing by a storm sewer like Hernando DeSoto ,  exploring a wild expanse of territory ! Are you General Pershing ? Leading the " Doughboys " into battle on the western front or the new Panama Canal in west central Georgia ! It just so happens that I could possibly be the fourth cousin removed of our benevolent Mayor , an admission certain to generate a call to action , genetic predisposition to selfishly imbibe , supplicate ulterior motives , altruistic behaviors , uniformity of life in general ! Organisms in the battle of propagation , securing the ranks for future generations ! Each step plotted , precious energy allotted , risk reward calculations , minimal expenditures create maximum benefit , the secret to longevity , the Fountain of Youth , trapped in a culvert , water seeks its own level , 'tis a fact your honor ! For as waste trapped within cell walls , you to shall pass , your biochemical makeup will one day rain upon this Earth , trapped in a ditch in Chattahoochee Hills , with an indifferent public official oblivious to your plight , trying to complete life's cycle with all your might !

The song of the Nor'easter captivates this southern boy , quite happy among 'the snowflakes'
Chipping reminders on a frozen -
catfish pond
Just like love , here then gone ....

I traveled almost everywhere, growing up. It took years. The landscapes, flora and fauna, the art, music, cuisines and curse words all seem to blend together in my mind.

Mount Fuji, the Rhine, the Himalayas, the Chattahoochee, Shenzhen, Washington DC, the Alps, and Appalachians, Moscow, Beijing, Dublin, Portland, Paris, Atlanta, London, St. Petersburg, Tokyo, Rome, Wuhan, Berlin, the Yangtze, the Mississippi, Saint-Tropez and LA - are all jumbled up in my brain, like old, wrinkled maps in a glove compartment.

My mom has total recall - she can remember every day of her life since her mama handed her a faded yellow and blue rattle when she was 6 months old - God gave me the glove compartment.

Still, some things are unforgettable, like an electrical storm breaking around Mt Everest, the lights of New York City, at night, from a helicopter, glittering on the horizon like a queen’s crown. The Danube, from a riverboat under a too-bright moon and the elegant poverty of Italy.

In some ways, I grew up like an exile because we moved every couple of years and I’d have to start my social life all over again - usually in a different language. Every place we left seemed a lost paradise, and each new place seemed cold and harsh.

Speaking of home to harsh transitions, November recess is over and we’re back in New Haven - with two weeks before final exams. Welcome to exhaustion week (weeks).

This morning I started going through my syllabuses, and after a week of holidaying - they seemed like indecipherable relics from a different world, a world of papers, tests and stingy-fun. I’ve so many things to wrap-up, my brain can’t seem to contain them all, I’m a gadget that’s out of memory.

I used to take my books on vacation, to remain in the ‘game’ mentally and stay ahead of the grind. Not this time. Hey, growing up, I’ve had my moments of ‘developmentally appropriate’ rebellion - in this case - I wanted memories to hoard, like inoculations against the coming work and loneliness cycles.

Reflect on the flowers that highlight the Earth , the fire in a lovers heart ...
Bread upon the altar for poet and poetess that passed before my time ...
Pray for peace , hope eternal and love for all mankind ....
Place my remains upon a pyre fueled with yellow Pine .....
I pray that my ash and smoke , will ride upon the Eastern Wind .....
Over cotton field and pecan grove enroute to tranquil sea...To be carried over Blue Ridge Mountain , sorghum field and meandering creek ......
Over man made impoundments of West Point , Allatoona and Lanier .....
To Columbus and Albany , over peanut estate and cornfield , farmhouse , silo and pond......Through Apple orchard in Ellijay and peach orchard in Locust Grove ... Through grape , muscadine and scuppernong arbor in McDonough , Monroe and Braselton ....Over Panola , Kennesaw , Blood and Stone Mountain....Across Chattahoochee , Flint , Savannah , Alcovy and Ocmulgee Rivers ....To be born , grow , flourish and love.. To mourn and to pass ..Over Georgia ..  Forever !....

Who's hiding neath black pine borders
Whispering tales into the wind throughout -
the beechnut forest
Crossing Novembers broom sage
Will fickle weather entice Hill Country's
chilling rains
Will Rico don the coat of ice and snow
The smoke of home fires travel South --
and swirl to escape the field hollers
The rack of wintertide from naked treetop to
a cold , unforgiving stream below ...

Twilight semi-tones reverberate in -
June moonshine sanctuary , Water Oaks silhouette
starry horizons as Cicadas rule the fragrant Chattahoochee hour of heavy , warm air and Crimson sunsets filled with dazzling
Lantern Fly summer flight and welcome poetic inspiration

I just wanted to tell you about brown eyed Carolynn , the sweetest little girl I've ever laid two eyes upon .. They say Harrison looks just like his Grandfather ,  growing bigger by the hour , as tall as his father one day if that's even possible .. Mary Ellen has turned my world upside down , you two would absolutely adore one another , I can't wait to look over and see her pretty face every morning ! I've lost the beard plus a hundred or so pounds , traded in farm life for the woods in Chattahoochee Hills .. Mom is feeling better and doing what she loves , eating Chinese food and watching old shows .. Just thought I'd check in with you for awhile tonight and keep you up to date on all that is good in my life ! Later ....

When the 'Canadians' return to the countryside in November ,
morning gaggles will fly right by my very window !
Off for a break on the banks of Port Lake , to rest a spell from their
arduous travel , to stretch their wings , collect their thoughts and get a few winks !
Up in the morning for a quick 'Dixie Breakfast' then back to the business
of travel along the river .. Cruising down the Chattahoochee with a brief rest stop in Columbus , then back to 'The Blue' , nonstop and bound for home in warm , serene Florida ...

Lake flies lighting reflective glass
Olive eyes focused on the blue earth
Training the purple wild flower fields -
of western Chattahoochee river country
Whirling , advancing , rock patterned shoals ,
river dancer hideaways , painted turtle middles
Mud cats , rock bass and sundry panfish skim -
the shallows harnessed in Georgia granite , indigenous
red , white clay banks , clear running waters and every
colored flower imaginable
Dandelion seedlings and dragonflies hurry downstream , lit
by the afternoon Lamp of the Almighty
Pipers of every pitch occupy every inch of the surrounding
heavens with emotional song
Ever watchful Crows burst into joyful laughter with each
Smallmouth topwater explosion
Herons work the rock island summits , Blue Jays station the crags
as the pace quickens to the Gulf , curious livestock command the bluffs
South as cascading waters grow ...

Birthdays , celebrations , myriad recollections forgotten-
But I will take to my deathbed my childhood on the banks of the Chattahoochee !

From South River Hill the lights of Alabama shone
Beside a meandering Chattahoochee I once stood alone
To catch sight of a river dancer or skip a stone
To catch a new stars arrival , the howl of a wildcat or
a glimpse of the orange setting sun
Her beauty effervesced , brown waters teased the
muddy banks , an Egret flew low overhead , the calm
surface echoed smallmouth feeding explosions
Becalmed riverwoods silvered in the coming night
Nocturnal songsters peaked on cue
The red clay trail home illuminated , voices of bobwhite quail serenading , the braying of beagles at the hillside , the alarm call of Embden Geese gathering at the whitewood fence line* ..

Dappled in freed sunshine
Monday's forested , stain glassed -
visage of hope and resurrection
Of stippled , newfound colors reading
the diary of lovers , Water Oaks bathed
in moist , diamond hue gloss
Clover , Thistle and Daisy trip in Northern breath
Autumn , Coweta river valley blues ,
Whispered , misty Chattahoochee afternoon views* ....

A trip to Franklin , my childhood home , West Point Lake on Sunday afternoon , awe inspiring view indeed , where Chattahoochee marries reservoir.... On the night we find ourselves apart , continue in my name on Earth , focus on the beautiful life we've shared , our dreams and our love for one another...I'll be waiting on this very shore ........

Month of May galactic , morning star tapestries , piedmont Geese dot the rising Sienna profile , Amethyst waters ripple in the Chattahoochee wind spell as reflections sprinkle the River birch harbors

If I could become vapor an -
steal away through the chimney
The crows and the hawks would -
seethe in envy
I'm circling the skyscrapers of Atlanta
Making a beeline to Alabama
Exploring the Chattahoochee river from -
high above
Racing the warm wind , the falcon and the turtle doves* ...

a skeleton key to the coffers of-
the pineywood panacea ..
a granite stone skipped across-
cool creek water ..
to whitetails concurring with-
the morning fires of October ..
to mechanical leviathans sojourned-
in prickly winter ..
to brown sugar fields in frosted glitter ..
for an audience of blackbirds in naked-
hardwoods , the crashing cymbals of Enumclaw-
across Chattahoochee river bottoms , the
tapestry of purple flowers in rested ploughland ,
to ancient peoples born , stood , tested and long since -                    
passed..

A tiny tear from a troubled eye in Atlanta tirelessly -
fought the Chattahoochee shoals , washed up in view of the emerald coast , found itself 'captured " in a plastic tote ...
It mingled with crystal sugar sand that built a Magic Castle  ...
The marriage of great imagination & engineering stood -
stalwart in the face of high tide ...
Sometime during the night a jealous ocean commanded its demise ..
Later that morning a saltwater pool along the oceanside caught the wandering gaze of a curious youngster
A smiling reflection under deep blue skies , a lonely teardrop-
met its maker that sunrise ..
                                                              ­                                                           A very healthy acorn stood out amongst the trees ..
His view of the autumn valley lit the imagination-
of vivid dreams ...
Cool , opulent morns ..
Leafy neighbors of every size , shape & glorious hue
Evenings with the harvest moon & Lady Venus ..
The call of coyotes , barn owls , gnomes & sprites
The tickle of pie pans & roof tins by harlequin winds ...
The shiver & fright of forest night ...
Pulled to mossy ground by a trickster whorl
A newfound view of the callous world ...

A Rhode Island Red patrolled his farm
A pretty , young hen under his arm
He tallied his flock from morning till night
Announced the dawn in the morning light
Alas one midnight hour a storm did pass
It blew the commander into the 'unknown grass'
He fought for hours to return to his station ,
then heroically chose freedom over his fenced-in former nation ..