Property and Liberty

A looking glass
In place.

Time and space, embroidered garments inlaid.

Now, you know me
Might I know you?

That's just a blade of grass,
That's just a tree.
That's just a mushroom,
That's just a dream.
That's just a golden calf,
That's just a spoon.
That's just a sort of fence
And once this was true:

"Trudge in the moonlight,
Fight in the trees.

Know thyself and the route will be seen.
Know this for certain:
If we fight we'll be free!

In death then for certain,
For we fight until then
Or until victory.

In decline, the perfect time
To strike.  Henceforth tonight,

Trudge in the moonlight,
Fight in the trees.
Know this for certain:
There is no defeat.

It is too often the story that
You win some, you lose,

I say, I know what is true

But since then we've
Lost all hope, all that are left now stand
As free men,

A martyrs last stand.

Burning glory,
Southern star,
A worker's friends."

An innocence depicted
In dime-store stories.
A vein pumped under it
Of slaves and of payment,
Prerogative, tradition and men.

I was born a black man, I was born a slave.
I was born a white man, I was free they say.

The creation of this country
Was cast underhanded.

Progress manifesto: wealth is demanded.

Enslavement contradiction:
Freedom, democracy.

The contrite face of the city,
Is this peace, prosperity?

Property and liberty,
Profession of thieves.

Ulterior Motives

This pad, this paper, this pen.
All secondary.

This specific arrangement
So elusive.

Like, quietly now into the thrush,
Shall we follow this deception
Born thereof?

But whatever I've been trying to say all along
Is just a whisper
Compared to the dawn.

Sun, light of sun: A thousand lights are made as one
Inside my empty palm.

Now, what ear to hear this mystery?
Another day, another day
I will be.

Force of Men

Across choppy waters
Just to let me sink
And I want to be free.

Sinking,
Slowly.
Suddenly

And with what quickness! Shine my eyes
Two times tonight but while this light is signed
No man could lie to the jury
Or hang them out to dry.

Approached and practically folding,
My feet fell well into the sand.

Now, appear red on thy bed of flames.
Is not time the thing you need? You say

And they say that mine is for the molding.
Strong to sway, I will not break.

No one knows this story,
Options only hold me,
Casting call for boring #2.

Would you leave already,
Empty pair of shoes.

Truth be true,
My love is kind.

And while this old forest
Slowly turns and bends,

I've only one for glory,
Not these lips, or my two hands.

Options only hold me,
Sifting sand and temperament,

Opening each morning,
The shifting hands of men.

13 equals unity,
Dasvidaniya it's been grand.

Sent with just a whisper,
Options are my only friend

Against the hands of men,
Against the sands of time

And oh, how the engines whine!
I hear the squall of sea gulls,

Does one yet see the sight?
I've only just been tethered,

It was my home last night.
And lo, fair minstrel,

Say the ocean has its fare,
To see her wisdom

You can't be half there,
Half a foot dangling in like,

I'm here for one thing
But not the next.

No I say leave all these distances,
Leagues of winter begin and end,

To be only folding, or falling
Onto the sand.

Dawns deliver,
Men they stand;

The idle hands of sin
Left them most unholy

But with this light
Be born again.

Is this such a simple difference,
Can you not relate?

Am I so much different from you,
Is this really not the way?

Trade me plates of wisdom,
Open arms and dialect.

I have two ears for this end,
Tongue for speeches,

Songs of men.
Traded it's ok,

These hands I have,
These feet to lease.

A hold on what I have thought before
Or a black market hiding in the cold.

Richer then diamonds,
The secret shine of gold.

Pearls to safely save and savor,
All this wisdom hiding in the grain.

Needle in the hay.

And these eyes are my redeemer,
What is it that no one says?

And I've been here in the depths of winter,
Tidy island,
Force of men.

Pearls to a princess of whirlwinds,
Tiny island
Of duress.

And wait, we've yet to see this maelstrom,
Be a witness,
Soon to break.

And now, the waves pour and pull like a spindle,
I break on the rocks
And am pulled underneath.

And now, the waves pour out and call like a minstrel.
I'm out of the pot
And into the flames.

Amen,
Yod Heh.

When Skies Are Grey

Now it is Friday,
And the fog lays thick on the land.

The sun is risen, but I cannot see my dear friend.
Fortune, good fortune, when does your love end?

"You'll never know, dear."
I slide into my chair,

A desk of devotion,
A place to prepare.

With my new friends around me:
Browning, Baudelaire.

"How much I love you."

The poet eats the sunshine,
Drinks the rain.

Right now it is Friday,
And the fog left a name

Of creaky wood according
to stormy seas.

Water-logged, full of memories,
Privileged pier to proficiency.

Discipline, a dangerous mistress, prone to agree.
How many rest in testament,

Buried at the bottom of the sea.
Now, let's test this sentiment:

The cold winter breeze
Will not remember you freezing,

According to, is a dangerous thing.

Now, to each their own according
To each their own new day.

Now who am I ignoring,
What could cause me to refrain?

A world complete with feelings,
Silent sound of time surrounds.

Wheels within wheels.
Sweet symphony,

Ludicrous melody,
Simple sound.

Whatever, just build from the ground up.
Stick to your gut, kid,

Guns up the sleeve,
Grown in the silence.

Now, just do as you please,
A pearl is passive

So, what do you see?
A tumbleweed, or something more troubling?

Whatever, just let me be.
This one or that one,

In my own bed I sleep.
I've won and I've lost,

I've been to hell again and again,
Only one thing remains:

The song to the wind.
Like, I say something and

It is lost once again.
Angles my dear friend,

Range-less Peer,
Tried and True.

I have no expectations,
Paint me red and blue.

Either Fire or Fire (There is Only This)

I've walked and walked for hours,
Talked of God and men.

I've often watched the Tower
Crumble to the sand.

And the mice and men they shiver,
A light touch runs right down the back.

I will not mince my words,

The dance of whirling purpose,
Like to Shiva the world would end.

And time to start from the beginning:

Love and Love,
There is only this.

The flower and the sword kiss,

Each is love
In each respect.

The jaws of a Lion conquer,
Magnificent!

Might of practice,
Might of men.

Well, you know King Arthur's glory?
Just a sinner, yes, only just a man

But a token of something greater;
A sacred grove, a simple wind.

A figurehead implores me,

What interest controlling?
What does it represent?

Might as the extent
of God's Glory;

Perfect Judgement, Perfect Sense.

Like Solomon's robes worn proctor,
Authority offered from the one who extends

Perfect Judgement, Perfect Sense.

The wealth of a story
Actually materialized

Right in front of them.
Tandem operation:

You have the inner circle
And the surrounding hands.

The most beloved
And the loved under Him.

Un-earthen, un-seen
          Forming
Worldly glory, shining team.

Day after day,
The shape is yet to be.

Diviner

Give me freedom,
Or give me death.

A ferris-wheel of friends,
Each step unto the next.

Just kicking a tin can
For better or for fun.

What credit?
Appointed reference,

With a sun-dial smile
Sitting on the fence.

Cheshire precedent,
Premonitions respect.

And with intent to seize this brevity,

A dime
A year
For rent.

I can see The Child in each of the faces around me.

Protean Formulas

And either way, I'm forming,
What new shape to ferment?

Give me a vista,
One sight to set.

And lay these weary bones down,
Lay myself to rest.

And laymen can only fissure,
Cause and disconnect.

My mind lights a picture:
Might of practice,

Effect and end,
A beautiful friend.

Those tidy little tassels
Always holding in the back.

A mountain from a story,
Stormy seas, the force of men

Built a bridge with pictures,
But to ignorance I will not bend.

My eye,
My eye.

Whose eyes are these,
Whose mind is mine?

The kundalini creeps,
And a nerve will shine.

That which you keep inside of your mind,
You think the pictures do not seep?

Chaos irreverent,
Skillful design.

Shine and shine and shine.

The Twins

                      J

I light a flame for remembrance,
Letting the husk fall to the ground.

Sound,

The love that knows no bounds,
The strength of irreverence.

Wound

Around that spit,
The spool of conditioning.

I hold one finger up to my lips,
(Hoor-Paar-Kraat)

Strength and Silence.

                      B

I light a fire of irreverence,
letting the husk burn all around.

Sound,

The lust that knows no bounds,
The strength of innocence.

Rewound,

Around that spit,
The spool inconsiderate.

I hold one finger to my lips,
(Hoor-Paar-Kraat)

Strength and Silence.

Ballroom Dancers

                     I
The music and the dancer
Are locked in cooperative seperation.

The art of movement, I suppose,
Is practiced everyday
Walking down the street.
One, two, three.
One, two, three.

But what a delicate frame the dancer is afforded
When that song begins to play.

"Won't you take me away, sweet music, take me away."

The well trained dancer begins to breathe
In time;

The subtle movement of the perfect dancer.
In time

Every nerve will heave,
Or retreat.

Listening, the music is the lead.
Then comes he,
Then she.

True power is in passivity,
Patience is the tree.

The fruit you will see, in her.
The simple twirl,
Smiling girl, perfect feet.


                     II
There are ones who like to be exploding,
What a welcome place
the dance floor is.
Come, and do as you please,
It is afforded.

But the way that one begins to swing,
Each movement chosen,
Trained, unassuming,
Clean.

I heard all of my life echoed in the band and the music that night,
Evolving into sight, rumbling, lithe body in flight.

Perfect Unity,

With the dancer,
       the music,
       and me.

Perfect Unity,

Within the dancer,
          the music,
          and me.

Ladies and Gentlemen

                              I
I sleep across the river in a tent of a friend's.
I wake up when I do,
I do not sleep in.

At nighttime I roam the city.
I eat the scraps, leftovers,
Little bits and pieces.

Always there is a kind word and a gesture,
The people abound,
All kinds of names.

Gentlemen
    and
  Ladies

I am on top as the Tower is crumbling,
Teach me the basics.

Remember right now and remember the feeling of right now,
Do not forget, teach me this:

Patience.

Remember this moment and ferment the feeling of this moment,
Do not forget again, because something caught my eye,

A little flicker of a fire,
Or a little gleam of light,

Golden.

How is this?
In love I am surrendered,
And in love is where I stay.

I remember those few before me,
Footsteps to follow
All along the way,

For now,

I sit in coffee shops as is the custom,
Written books and talking men.

I hear their stories,
I know them.

At nighttime we drink as we desire and do whatever we can,
Fire men.

Imperfect and impermanent, but we dance.
Imperfect and impertinent yes, but we sing.

Together is better then alone,

Let the one who knows show the way.
Use these hands and I will use our strength
And then we trade,

So I can follow your footsteps,
I want to trace you as you lay,
And hear the breath that you're controlling first enter and then escape.

Remember this moment and the feeling it's holding
So we don't let anything go to waste.

Now, tell me joy and sing for glory,
Key of Bb, key of G.

Let me touch your sadness,
Use a minor or maybe d.

It makes the slightest difference,
But in the end it's all the same.

We sang A song that Someone wrote,
And it was gracious, amazing every note.

                              II
Who can remember all the porches, living rooms,
The basements, groups of people,
The common homes.

Capricious overtures,
Perfect tone.

But I know the way:
Renunciation.

I am love,
I will the song.

I spoke the Word
First.

         Precedence, always remember this, know well the difference
                              because the friend is not separate
                                         from me and you.

Worn out shoes, I wear my boots.
I dress in the style of whatever is in fashion,

Truth be true,
I do not mind,

My love is arrived,
And I am man alive.

                              III
"In the room the women come and go,
Talking of Michelangelo."

A perpetual state of leaving and arrival,

Bound for glory,
And right on time

And oh, how the engines whine!
Separation implying unity,

The moment when you die,
"That is the one action

(And the time of death is every moment)."

As soon as I leave
I have arrived.

And what compares,
Each part to the whole?

Of course not, but
Intellect and reason,

The foundation of experience,
As they say in likeness,

As above, so below.

Multiply everyone with each other and then do the math,
It's grand and seriously, the possibilities are endless.

                              IV
I get caught up in the heat of the moment,

The pounding emotion,
An endless array

Of ceaseless commotion
And tireless play.

Day after day
The shape is never broken,

Protean formula,
Rubric of clay.

The will to the wind
Whispering hello, hello again

My dear friend,

Silence.

                              V
Dire is the fortune men told me,
Let the birds eat me when I am dead.

Auspice Christo

Tare: the fury.

One tear drips,
Now jack be nimble
And jack be quick,

Stay awake
Through the night
With a candlestick.

And I tear this seam from end to end,
Any scene
Within this splinter,

Broken backs are born to it.

I've long felt the call of this fissure,
Tiny island
Of durress.

Felt that coal burn tides of winter,
Tidy island,
Force of men.

Time spills so send me swimming sister,
Ocean island,
House of rest.

And clams baked into the ocean's tide,
Minds break down slow decline.
I've only just a minute more of time,

So I stew and succor,
Slow decline.
Smooth and supple,
Strong and fine.

To denote this revision,
Demonstrative tone.

Tell them all of quick submersion,
Baptized in my own home.

Emerging spindles tokens like a delicate tome.

And Tom told me,
He sent the mail,
Of a mountain's secret,
The Sangraal.

How to get my feet to find her,
The one who'll tell!

I say this lance a burdon,
Broken king Fish,
Evil spell.

Yet these eyes can soon be proctor,
Middle diamond,
Camel's field.

I fell wild forests in just my passion,
Prayed this spinstress
Would show the trail.

Her mind is often active,
A stoic symbol
In one so frail.

Where is it? Monsalvant!
Give me peace
And tell.

But lo, I've succomb
To a ghastly jail.
This twisted demon,
This evil sail,
Part mine and part this spell maid.
Born to run dear,
Born from hell!

What God would make such a mistress
Cornerstone?
Born from one
And unto ten.
Part mine and part this fixture's.
Born from one
And unto them.

Our Saviour is a commoners fare.
I look at them
Through eyes of aether,
Am struck with wonder most severe.

That salvation is just misfortune.
I know that Christ is perfect
And we are one to all who care,
But his death can be your burden,
Trade it in now time to kill.
Trade broken habits to destruction,
Trade within the fire's stare.
All death is one to function, give me that,
The purest fare.

Light my mind in earnest
In order to hear
The tolling bell.

I've watched wisdom burning,
I've seen the tale's tell.
I hope and I am worthy,
This death will be your sail.

Yonder Mountain awaits.

The Damage Done

How many dreams have been destroyed through drugs,
By people?
Desire and restlessness.
What happens in the dead of the night
That stays,
Cold?
Well, aderol and heroin,
Molly and meth,
Maybe even mushrooms.
Yes, even the mighty revealer
Can be used for naught.

Drugs used to be the healer,
Look again.
I know I thought,
I'm seeking for certain,
Lift up this cloth and see
Behind the curtain.

Impertinent children,
Animal law.

Old Friends

T.S. Eliot and Allen Ginsberg
Speak to me as if old friends
Who knew me well.

The secret will knows no presumptions,
Perpetual angelus,
The familiar function.

What could bring me back again?
Who can really tell?

I've fallen gently forward,
Sit in time
And time be still.

I'm a traveler,
Future foraging
For something

I would say,
Can only mention.
The truth speaks louder still.

I laugh for attention
And marvel at my inventions
Like a headstrong child.

If only I could be quiet and uncaring,
The way to move a mountain.

Querry,

Speak to me,
Tell me anything,

Truth-speak;
You know, and I know
Exactly what I mean.

For Love of Men

As time slowly turns and bends and winds,
I am become more and more like wine.
It is as if I am here just to ferment.
I cannot even express, but I bet

First I grew like a grape on the vine
Sunshine, sunshine.
I was plucked with the bunch in my prime
Soon to be mashed and stomped underfoot,

Remove the pulp from the juice.
The self to refine
In a dangerous process,
Pushed me close to life.

And on the edges of death
I would balance my breath
Against dawn's banner beckoning
And the sifting tides of Mem.

Mother letter, give me sweet death
One last caress, I'm waiting for your breath.

I felt the faintest whisper
(Aleph, Heh, Mem)
Against the callous hands of men,
Legs crossed like the hanged man.

Shifting sands, a paupers sense
Has merely told me what I'm holding,
Light abounds inside this breast;
The stuff of stars

Pouring,
Invasive.

The mask held up,
The prison's jest.

I grew up
On children's stories,

For love of craft
And love of men

I see no difference,
One is likened to the next.

Now patience grows up
Each year morphing,

Slowly time it turns and bends.
Proteus forming

While I ferment.
Yod Heh Aleph Mem,

All glory.

The Crown

I would write
Another piece to master,
But I pass that over
And gaze at the mantle.

A figure,
Kethir.

One above all.
One for all and unto them.

Now venture,
And gain some capital.

What I Know

And what to play,
Some grave mischief?
Don't tell me what I know, I know.
But right now, I'm all ears
And the cats
Got my
Tongue.

And what is there to write?

This is silence.

One Afternoon I Almost Could Mention the Sunshine

One afternoon I
Almost could mention
The sunshine.

I lie down on the grass,
A looking glass appears.

I gave way,
Gravel would tell
But one afternoon
I almost could mention
A hill
Top beside me
Or a mound of correction.

Hiding above the towers of conception,
A designation.

But one afternoon
I fell down
A dimension.

Now, shoot and shimmy your way up and out
Of a silly little chimney or a mountain to mount.

Sizable summit,
Tiny little mound.

And I shout.
I would but fall down
At a sight,
Or a sound,

But one afternoon
As I lay on the ground
I hear Japanese spoken
And wonder about
The little boy
And his mother
As their lips now pronounce
In a language
I don't get
But can sort of
Sound out.

Trade it forward,
Find a route.

Fortune will find you.

Like one afternoon
As I am,
Lie on the ground.

Whisper: glory glory,
Praises aloud.

I fall down and would shout
But nothing comes out.

Progress pervading
My home in the clouds,

Fortunate quarters,
Fortune is found.

Fostered.

for Aurora

This night
And this one,

To be right
Is to be quiet,

But at least this much is evident:
Bare minimum,
Par.

There is no other
One.
Whatever appears
As an option
Or a problem,

A pin drips into the mist
And I absolve with a wish.

And no alabaster vessel
Could tell
About vast emptiness
Though it will
Know it well
Throughout its life.

And in these new stages
The play is met,

Abridged is dangerous:
Be a snail.

Slow is not what wins the races
But nobody is going anywhere.

What may be permanence
Are merely glances within the turning.

And I like a stern wind,
Like a dragon fly
I'm ready yet again.

Where the fire wills me
Some are bound to tell.
But this hill could spill its witness
Around revolving hells.

Oh deary dreary!
Lose those dowry bells.

I've a new returning,
Something new to tell.

And Mother Mary
Won't you whisper,
All that's in the past
Has fell.

And Mother may I,
Wish to whisper,
This heaven fell down
Straight to hell.

So the days abound
A sound display,
Give me room to master
And a song to sing.

And tell me what may be
Revolving around
This happening,

Oh, sight of sights, a play!

And which
Ever,
Which one,

This one
Or
That one,

Just a world in the burning.
An open tomb

So sit right up you sleeper,
Stand right back again.

Footsteps, footsteps,
My fast new friend.

Tell me all you can remember,
It's been so long since I've felt rain.

I've been here
Merely mourning
This instant depth of death.

And from here,
This early morning,
A stone's cold face has changed its stead.

A cold hand grasping,
Let it grope instead.

Nothing here to hold me,
Chains long gone,
This prison dress
My only token
From the depths of darkest death.

"Now spell me this,"
 One whispers,

"Show me all you could collect."

"Have you been diligent
For winter,
Or has the avarice
Done it's best?"

This must just be the centaur
At the minute of the test.

Now you tell that bell to ring, sir,
Stop your vigil, time to yell.

And make damn sure it does not whisper.

I cannot express this exit,
Or the extent of what has fell,
But that field was prepped for burning
And I guess all's well that ends, well,

At the entrance once again, fin.

Have an Ax

Here, have an ax then.
A smile goodnight
And I'm off.
Here then, have an ax friend,
A smile and knife
And I'm off.
Sent and then away.
Sent and still away, then
Aren't you glowing?
A nod to the faint small line growing,
Harboring naught,
Neither feint nor flaunt,
What haven't the silent ones thought?
For them that
Forget their fame, magnificent,
A march melting race.
Wait til November, or the morning time,
Whichever: I don't mind.
Fat chance,
Forced hands, sand on the beach.
Tossing like a ship in a dream,
The shape is yet to be.
Protean.

Ain

A well linked to a wheel,
Spokes made of change.

A pocket filled surreal,
Seminal of pain.

Exist in which none remains.

Immense and infinite,
Sifting temperment.

Burn bright like eyes last sight,
All your love gone away.

Free time,
A massive instrument.

Contrary to name,
Ain.

Our endless resonance.

Pasadena Wishlist

And now well, to persist after a fashion.
This one or that one, either way demands action.
Pick your direction (connection), I've dined in a mansion,

Pleased to meet you,
Anyway
What name?

Scythe moon questioning
Either way
Somewhere in between
All of the has and hasn't beens,
Gesturing
Which way do you go?

Torn
Asunder,
In right and out from
Under, stand out
In the crowd a
Smile and aloud, a
Secret noun
Like a peek-
In window.
Its been more
Years now,
Seasons change
Wind blows
Down that cloud,
Preference
And  a sound,
A presence.
A bird on the
Battlement sings
With pools of blood
Snowing beneath
The window seal.
It's a done deal
So fork it over,
Teach me to die.
And well I might:

This Pasadena wishlist
Shines bright as a
Death wish,
Written in a note to the wise.

We'll Prefuse

across choppy water
sinking, suddenly
just to let me die
and I want to be free.
a cast iron caption
  like a weight I'm holding
this conscription
    pulling me down
      through the gates

Hell's hounds and a blessing to name
  pulling me down
    lost in my days
A forlorn and proud face
  but my future is festered
No fragrance of grace
  but a polish of sickness
Wax and then wane

Everything in season?
  target to be maimed
a capsized new captain
  prescribed offering

But to convey this distance
  I do not think I will be saved
Atop tall waves sturdily
  a ship will sink or stay
Hope's old wisdom
  will prefuse
    well away.

Red Star

red star
  struck
and stolen, but take a full portion
  just to wish what plate you win
    well rounded
and open, so let's test this sediment
  four forgotten folders
    less permenance
  more flora, and aim
the roses of trauma, different, different
  an order for Auroura
    older stem
      suddenly
things don't seem so dismal now
  pleasant son
    gentle men
  pleasant moon
    gentle rain...

All Systems Go

all systems go
  and red
    stems
mean a warm wind
  and travelling
    far away
a friend
  is open
and ready to begin.

Camping Memior

  Day One

  Walking back to camp last night the sky was dim and clear.  No moonlight shining to guide us back to our tents.  Our camp was for backpackers only and happened to be situated behind the regular campsites.  We walked by the RV's and campers with the noise of family and friends ringing out into the night.  This is Yosemite in the summer time, a flurry of activity and commotion.  Within my first three hours of arriving in the valley I heard French, German, Russian, and Chinese.  The destination is always packed and you must reserve a camp ground up to one year in advance.  Driving into the valley was gorgeous.  The mountains, carved out by glaciers of old, shoot up towards the sky surrounding us like a playpen for the gods.  The iconic face of half dome smiling down on us, wishing us safe travels as we camp.  My father is embarking on a seven day backpacking trip along the John Muir Trail, I am here to drop him off and resupply him during his trip.  Walking through the regular camp grounds the combined smoke from the fires became trapped within the tree covering creating a smokey situation.  I heard the rattling of pots and pans, and the playful screams of children, the steady drone of conversation, sometimes at a lull, and then crashing like waves in the ocean.  The backpackers camp was just a short walk across a footbridge and the air cleared as the trees thinned out.  The nature of backpacking is inherently minimalistic and this was apparent looking around the campground; the individual sites housing only a couple tents each, food in the bear boxes. The light from a single fire was flickering out its last rays of light to us all.  My father and I shared some wine.  This was his last night before entering the wilderness.  We were joined by my Dad's friend Chloa along with her two sons, Heath and Karl, age 15 and 12 respectively.  Heath is joining my father on the hike while Chloa, Karl and I camp along their route to meet up with them at predesignated spots.  My father tells us stories from his childhood, his father brought him to Yosemite often and at a young age.  Back then the impact of continual visitors was less apparent and you only needed to show up to secure a camping spot.  As Heath and Karl drifted off to sleep I listened to Chloa and my Dad talk.  They talked about the life and health of our rivers in Oregon, and the impact of agriculture on the water supply.  (Chloa is a whitewater rafting river guide, so her life is tied in with the health of the rivers.  My father is an agricultural scientist.)  And we sat in silence as everyone drifted off to sleep, eventually settling down ourselves.  The night felt safe and warm as I laid on the dirt, eyes gazing up to the heavens, peering through the thin layer of mist that occasionally blanketed the sky.  I watched a satellite wiggle its way across the sky, seeming to waver being imposed against the bright burn of the stars.  I think about those places, burning with intensity, nestled within infinity, a stoic beacon to our world.  I hear the last few voices flood into our camp as I relax and fall asleep at peace away from home.

Day Two

  The morning air was warm as I woke up around seven am.  Dad had been up since five as usual and had everything packed up.  The clouds had rolled in and now covered the valley with light showers that dispersed  themselves intermittently around the area.  We broke fast with honey dew, bagels, and green tea then promptly drove to the trail head.  I said my good byes to the backpackers (Heath and Dad) and made plans to meet up with Chloa and Karl later that evening in Tuolumne (too-all-oh-mee) Meadows.  We would be camping there for a night and then rendezvousing with Dad and Heath the next day as their path wound its way from Yosemite Valley into Tuolumne Meadows. The main part of Yosemite contains two touristy villages, one called Yosemite Village, the other called Curry Village.  They have coffee and food, housing and showers, as well as scheduled events hosted by park rangers.  I spent my time in the commons area within Curry Village.  There was a nice open air covering with natural wood chairs and tables.  I spent $2.68 on a 16oz coffee with free refills from Peet's Coffee.  I wrote and watched the visitors.  This area has the highest population density because it is the most accessible area of Yosemite National Park.  The chipmunks here are fearless, running under people's chairs looking for morsels on the ground.  A few times I was almost afraid that one would just run up and nip my foot!  I watched the rain fall while an old man played lap steel slide guitar.  The long drawn out notes in a blues style matched the atmosphere magnificently.  I listened in as an old Mexican grandmother asked a Spaniard what language he was speaking, commenting on how different it was from her form of Spanish.  The people here are friendly, shining eyes and bright smiles, usually with a kind hello on their lips.  "How could anyone be unhappy in among all of this natural splendor," I wonder.  I certainly felt the weight of my troubles lifted as I was over eight hundred miles from my home.  My thoughts were no longer in that place and I was happy to leave them, replaced with a calm air of observation.  I though it was funny (my father would definitely make fun of me for this) that the thing I wanted to do was not hike on a mountain trail, but rather sit in among all of the people and drink too much coffee as I wrote in my notebook.  After my two cups of coffee and sufficient time to muse I made my way over the the Awanhee Hotel in order to charge up my father's cell phone with one of the outlets.  The Awanhee, like much of Yosemite's infrastructure, was built using funds from the WPA (workers progress administration) under Roosevelt's "New Deal" program.  Many of the trails in Yosemite were created and maintained with the same funding.  The hotel is constructed with massive stone pillars and natural wood exterior to give it a cabin like look, albeit much more lavish then any humble Sierra Club cabin. And on top of that, a room will cost you 450 dollars per night!  I let the phone charge and went to the Yosemite market, a little grocery like store they had in the valley.  I bought a half rotisserie chicken for $3.50 and ate all but the breast as I was famished.  A Romanian family had bought the rotisserie chicken just like me and were eating it at the table next to mine ( the chicken was the best deal in the whole overpriced market).  The father looked over to me and said "Bon Appetite!" making me smile and feel connected.  I made my way to Tuolumne at around 4 pm admiring the mountains as I drove.  I found the note Chloa had left me "Noel - we are in b2" and was excited.  I found them at the camp site and set up my tent.  I then had a glass of Merlot ( of the five dollar variety) while  Chloa cooked brown rice and kale with a couple of hot dogs for Karl and I.  We played a card game called blink which is basically a different version of speed.  We only had one headlamp and Chloa had to shine the light over Karl and I as we played, which caused some hilarious situations.  We washed up and then headed to bed.  Karl and I slept out on the tarp while Chloa slept in her tent.  The stars were incredibly clear as Karl and I gazed and discussed constellations, his school life, and basketball before drifting off to sleep.

Day Three

  On the third day I woke up at 8, Chloa and Karl were already awake and there was a market just out of the campground down the road so I gathered some change and went to buy coffee.  The coffee was $1.60 and the girl serving me told me $.90 if I brought in my own cup.  We split two Amy's frozen burritos between the three of us for breakfast and pack up camp.  Chloa had gone to secure our camping spot for tonight, as we would be meeting up with Dad and Heath this afternoon.  She chose campsite number one of the walk-in only campground, which was only a 2 minute walk from our current spot.  We moved all of our gear to the new spot and put the extra food in the bear box.  Chloa had made some sandwiches and loaded a day pack before we set out on the hike to Cathedral Lake.  Karl and I drove together in the CRV and I picked up another cup of coffee, this time for the refill price.  There was no trailhead parking for this hike so we just parked on the road near the trail.  The path was very gravely and mostly uphill and the sun was very hot.  We made sure to slather ourselves in sunscreen before we left as per Chloa's friendly reminder.  Cathedral point overlooks both the upper and lower Cathedral Lake and is named that because of its spire like shape.  We made it to the fork, forcing us to decide whether or not we should hike to the upper lake of just wait for Dad and Heath.  Fortunately for us just at that same time we see none other then Heath trotting down the trail, Dad in tow.  We all proceeded to the lower Cathedral Lake for lunch and a swim.  The path leading up the the lake was in an expansive meadow that was riddled with a maze like system of swampy pools and little channels connecting them.  There was a field biologist there conducting a study on the tree frogs that grow from polliwogs in these cricks and pools.  Chloa chatted with him and we made it to the lake.  The lake was fairly small, taking only about ten minutes to circumnavigate.  There were huge slabs of rock extending into the water, no beach but the granite was warm and comfortable to lie on.  There was a large group of people in some sort of organized group, and we took up residence next to them for the time being.  In his usual fashion, Dad stripped down to his boxers, let out a hearty whoop, and dove into the frigid water.  He inadvertently splashed a women sitting near the water but everyone was laughing about it.  The lake was too cold for my tastes and Chloa and I opted to hang out on the rocks instead of braving the waters (although, looking back on it I was the only one to get called "weeny boy" because of it).  We ate lunch after they swam and it was delicious.  Turkey sandwich with mayo and cucumbers, with some extra thick sliced salami added on the spot.  We also ate apricots and crackers.  After lunch Karl and I explored around the lake, jumped in the mud of the marsh, and saw a garter snake together; on top of just acting generally silly.  We made our way back to the cars and I drank a lot of water.  That night we were supposed to meet up with Paul, my Dad's cousin, and Anna Maria, a colleague of Paul's, who would be joining them on the backpacking trip, but they called to say they would just meet us tomorrow morning.  There was a bonfire at the amphitheater there and Karl and I listened to the Ranger give an entertaining talk on Ravens and Crows, but left halfway through to go play cards or something.  One thing I learned is that the collective noun for a group of Ravens is an "unkindness."  That night I decided to sleep in my tent because it was a bit colder outside.  It took me sometime to fall asleep that night and I wrote this poem the next day.

"Sometimes"

Sometimes, at nighttime

  my thoughts run wild

    just like a feather in the breeze, Ha!

More like a ship tossed on stormy seas.

Should-I's and hasn't-beens

  a stage set for disappointment,

    and what is after?

This vast distance

  from my house to yours

    is but a pinprick, just a visage.

So why do I take the long way?

I aim high and set my sights on reaches 

  only patience can attain,

    those sparks that left me speechless

The silent sound of pain.

But to let me see these reaches

  and everything begins again

    (let me be).

Bold and starstruck

  not a stick in the mud

    but in the middle of the current

Steady with the grain.

  a needle in the hay

Golden sol shines, seeker

  upon the frontier of everyday,

    everyman's parade and the 

Revolving door of change.

Teth

a fresh whisper
  a rest
resolute and resolved
  these shoulders
  frame ten
a fallow field fountain
  steps in

elevated rightly
Know and in knowing be free: chance?

ambivilence
             a boring emporium bubblegum switchblade

Hand in Hand

A new day arises.  my mind bleeds portions.
A taste to be felt. a cold demeanor. fasting

Watermarks torn apart show me where do I
              Go for art?

[a vestige. precipice staring]

Exegesis of allocation, a lot to be had.
Genesis of daring and the language of an answer.



Hand in hand, into
The sidewalks sunset
Faces painted gold



A freckle of people, intricate trickle, full table.
Fashion of portions,
March of the patrons,
Take me to the place.

Take me all the way,
Hand in hand.

Kerosene or Suddenly

Now, out the screen door
Pour
I speak
In more
Riddle
Then
Meaning
It seems
Like chicken scratch on a sign,
Never looks too pretty
But champs like us
We just hit the highway grinning.

Tires into the sunset
Hands held in interest
Feels like only inches
But wait a while, then

       Suddenly ...

The Muddy Banks of Existence

Astute and austere.
A true beginning
Beckoning aloud, a light
Pouring,
Invasive.
The mask high up the prison's walls:
A jest.
Suited up and ready for the fall.
Pinstripe cushions looming,
The fire on the hill.

Howling, a stand on the moon, stranded.
A pleasant visit, a renowned friend, festival of the light.
Basics
Instated

A stones throw and a glance away,
A power known:
Empress of the Dawn.
A glorious allocation
Upon nighttime's descent.
A blackness, existing in the shades of excellence.
Patterns born,
Privey to pencil,
Pearls to a princess of whirlwinds.
The storms of change
Burning in the noise,
The static of ignorance.
Muddy banks of existence, shoes stuck.
Show my way, a father of signs
Grandfather Time and a feather for light.
Intent.

Pushed or Posted

There is one thing persisting
 A watcher may be, a frontier to speak.

I found this record, a political present.
 A four-tune,
  A fortunate sojourn.
Pressed against the page like a window into infinity,
 What memory!

I know when these visions start to stylize my eyes
 I see stars.
A round surface, bereft of the waves,
 Proud purpose.

I don't want to be the headstone
 Trade that grave away,
Feet planted into every moment, a solemn camp.

Om Namaste praise in a calm way.
 Fortunate and fostered, a missing deity,
Which way has she traveled?  Interviewed.

Innervating and a vital structure,  with this wisdom
 A mountain of secrets opens up in my chest.
Watch Mr. Seeker,  I jest in a crowded field
 But when does the front page fall again?

Pushed.  Or posted.

Around and Thank You

A night like this screams
Rippling through the years
Tearing apart the fabric of your life
A spun standard
Flying the wind.

My voice will fall flat, I don't need anything to prop or profit,
Except plainly to shiver, break like a splinter
And split
Half mast,
Strong toast,
Last laugh.
First winter I could stand
And I scream,
Sidewalk trailing the smoke,
A golden bough
Serene.
I gather up the remnants of my discarded jokes
A shantytown of revelry,
Glory to the most readily available deity,
And see how I burn in the forming.
Test of temptation
I feel broken, shackled by shame
Arrogance whispers, my pain is nothing
I wasn't wanting from the onset, honest
Nyx this Saturday,
A broken back in stuttering.
Sleep, keep your heels ahead of the hounds.

Around and thank you,
Say Vishnu.

A Death Song Not An Elegy

               I
Wishing and wondering
Words to spare,
Project a covering
Sweetly austere,
Silently waiting
The watcher draws near...
And then around the next bend
Traveling.

Heartache and Happenstance
Spun still unraveling.

Granted distance and a relative time, but besides this,
I insist!

What an anchor
Displaced,
Howling is appropriate
Against the wind and the waves.
A mist and in my mind
Blanket to exchange,
A mile markers bright play:

Gifted Styx!
Death is your way,
Have I been so blind to this time?
We will see.
In all this exuberance
And in all this shame, we will sing!
The tooth muses interest,
Will to intervene.

And what sight?
After all has been rolled over
And everything surmised,
What the chains held well in sentence
Return again into the light.

And Hail!
Let all that falls
Pass away.

Hades dialect, apt to pick away,
What plight?
This fire lights an interest,
Boat out and well away,
No harbor,
Apropos to change


               II
And well away,
What happened to haunt you
Is not here today.

Pulse, the gun fires again;

 Linked, entwined.
 Spun rhythms surely
A meter every line.
 Strong or weak! Sign,
 What is purchased early
Leaves them all in their sleep
 Behind burning
Trailing smoke, an apology,
 Dust on the breeze,
All shattered for showboats,
 A calm gaze into the brink.
 Cowboy carving up to your knees,

Drink deep,
                   An empty well will wash you clean.

Post-evening and a time to sing, and stay.
Just another facet approaching,
Another system displayed
And how holy, another face turns away.
Entwined and with the breath for a spade,
Call me like you see it,
See one for a day.
Calm ways to bend in season,
Well, there's a will, there's a way.

               III
A flash.
In this place time seems empty,
Only a vast expanse, visible
With an open gaze,
Grooming.

What more to chase?
Make sure
And mark my eyes with chaos,
Chains sent sailing into the distance,
No harbor,
Apropos to change.

Harping! And what sense?
A part from me to you
And well I wish to witness
Every play until it's through.

And three shades form may-be and happening,
A fresh sport to entertain.
A Monday bore Aurora
Among a fog a lifting ray.

White is framed
Against the blackening,
An open palm
Against the waves,
Monday mourning misery
Among a fog a lifting ray.

While one word will lift
The curtains captain,
Fairly swift and well away.
Sweetly singing symmetry
 All is lost,
 All is lost,
Well away.

Sense for Blessings

Nom: resistance.

I saw
This business
Topple, torn asunder.
In right
And out
From under.
Wild and ripe,
Smiles so bright.

Bring me the plate that offers learning,
A suit to stitch,
Pinstripe cushions kicked.

A gun streaks red with robbery,
Such a God speaks
Startling honesty.

The scent of
Happening,
Nearly in and out
So early.
The breath
Of hasn't been,
You know friend,
Happenstance,
It happens again.

And up end
Of the beginning,
End or the beginning,
Always happening.

This one is
 Saul's
  blank,
Solomon's lake.

Seven Sentiments

Needle in the grain.

My eyes have mined these reaches,
Vast expanse or a pillow where you lay.

Why mine these eyes for speeches,
My eye is cold and vain (pain).

Secondary plane,
Your in the window
But lesson one again.

These envelopes address themselves,

Who sent and who is sender,
When is too little too late,

Pebbles for your brain.

Exempt.
Exhibit one:
Roses for your pain.

But a cold spell and even darker fortunes
Are sprinkled in your day
Everywhere
  and
Nowhere has figures too.

Tag.

Can't I'm on base.
Impress and what the cat dragged back,
Two meanings again.

And fuck it all to senselessness,
Emphasis the same:

Precedence.

Remember the letter,
Envelope, sender: same.

Seven sediments
See how they lay.