All the Sons of Adam



08/18/2016

We throw these stones
Fighting this war
We declared on sand
On Babylon
And one another

We won’t
Be finished
Until our better angels
Concede defeat


Eastward



06/25/2016

Some places
You come to
Almost by accident

Others
Take
A bit more effort

Nobody
Comes down from the mountain
Without first
Having to climb it

Nobody comes to the end
Of the trail
Without first
Traveling its length

Nobody comes up
From the sea
Without first going under

And nobody arrives
In that small town across the bay
Without knowing first where it is

But mostly
That’s just because
Someone keeps stealing the sign


Around the Corner



05/30/2016

We kissed
On that beach
As another
Iron horse galloped by
We were stowaways
On a different train
And we had no idea
Where it would take us


May Grays



05/06/2016

Out from her
Slumber
Eyes blinking
At the newly minted greens
Of a silver spring day

The forest is full
Of dollars
But she is hungry
For the fish
That used to swim
Up the river

Today
She will
Stand still on the old
Logging road

And even though
The whole earth shakes
On this day
She will not be moved


Upholstery and Smoke

November 22, 2015

She was just a child
Leading the Rebellion
With discarded toys.
Striking out
At them.
At us.
At herself.
And though she made a fool of the Enemy
Throughout the Ten Year War
She lost the Final Battle yesterday.

And now she is gone.

She left home too soon.
There was heaviness in the entry way
As she said her goodbyes.
We did not understand why.
Our parents cried.

She picked us up in her Chevy Nova at the age of sixteen.
We were only nine.
She smoked cigarettes like a real grown up.
We couldn’t see the road.
Just the upholstery and the smoke.
She gave us punk rock.
She bought us pizza.

She fought like hell.

If we’d learned anything from her
Perhaps we could fight back these tears right now.
But every drop is a salty rebellion
Led by a mere child
With discarded toys.
She was never one to be easily denied.

Goodbye Sister.


Up the Coast



09/22/2015

They took one last look at the river
And longed for another time
Saddened by the parade of motorhomes and meth
Stretching from the ends of the earth to right here and right now
They refused to join the neon funeral procession
They took their stand
And to this day they remain
Still
And beautiful
And made of solid gold


Free Range #15: Morning Drive



07/29/2015

Odometer: 755.7 miles

Our father
Kept us moving
Even though
We stopped a bit too often
To read the signs
And ponder
Their meanings

When it was time to move on
We would often
Have to push with all of our might

Barefoot
On the rough pavement

Our father
Drove a Volkswagon


Free Range #8: Disappearance



07/24/2015

Odometer: 346.4 miles

The rough and calloused
Fingers of land
Join hands
With the soft and nimble
Fingers of fog
In a
Display of
Quiet unity


Free Range #6: Roadside Blues



07/23/2015

Odometer: 213.5 miles

Sometimes we all need
a soft shoulder to cry on
But other times all we need is
A wide shoulder to park on


Then They Took Him Away



05/30/2015

Who wrote this book of etiquette?

All of the pages are blank
As though the ink has spilled right off the paper
Leaving us to write our own rules with pencils
And skin
And burning eyes

After reading from cover to cover we are left
Just as we were before
Somewhat crude
And still rather unrefined


Standing Watch



05/19/2015

We’ve rounded the corner now
We’ve found
The hole in the fence
We’ve crossed that line
And conceived
Of new horizons
Now we stand watching
And
Waiting
For
The old roads
To wash into the sea


Aqueduct



05/12/2015

Every river flows to the sea… except this one. It flows to LA. Drink up southern California.


In a Mood



02/18/2015

Some days are better than others for curiously overheated gas station coffee
Made with the press of a button


Something Fishy



02/17/2015

With a bucket full of mackerel, he explained why the water was a fancy shade of green.
The fancy cats that live in the rocks were only green with envy.


Winter Sun



02/15/2015

We’ve spent long days here
North of the river

We’ve spent
Our last two dimes
On
Heaven
And waffles
And a good night’s sleep
Sheltered
From the falling snow
Until the storm blew over

And now we ourselves
Are spent
Worn out
Like the two
Ragged
Dog blankets
In the back of the van

One more look at the ocean
Before we head home
And two things
Become clear

We’re not going home tonight
And
We’re gonna smell like dog
In the morning


Crab Haul



August 20, 2014

I painted this one years ago   
From a weathered photograph  
It was a Christmas gift  
From a daughter  
To her father  
  
She was a young child  
When the photo was taken  
From the Old Trinidad Pier 
Of her dad and his crew 
On his boat down below 
  
She said they ate good  
Really, really good that year  
I imagined them eating  
Juicy butter-dripping crab   
For every meal  
  
She just laughed  
After the lean years  
Of cornbread and beans  
This was the year  
Their ship finally came in  
  
They didn’t eat crab  
They ate whatever they wanted  
Wherever they wanted  
  
And you might be thinking  
Of a working-class family  
That just came into extra money  
  
And you might not be wrong  
  
But I’ll ask you right now  
To think of this young child  
Enjoying her family’s joy  
And remembering it  
After all these years  
After the photo is faded  
Tattered  
Torn around the edges  
Asking an artist  
To give that sweet memory  
Back to her father  
  
Now  
  
Tell me again  
When did their ship come in?  


Insinuation IX: Where Once there was Only Sky



June 1, 2014

Rising up to heights intolerable
Between moments of relief
All too brief
Just when the final surge washes through
Rearranging the ground floor
Soaking the upholstery
With salt driven from the earth’s rotation
Glass breaking
Walls shaking
The record collection scattered like shells on the shore
Just when it’s too much to bear
As violently as it moved
Just as quickly it is over
And there is no sound to be heard
Above the chirping of birds
Except the voice of a helpless infants cry
Where once there was nothing but endless sky


Insinuation VIII: Hope of Expectancy Surrendered



June 1, 2014

As joy turns to sorrow
And victory defeat
The batteries drained
The battering remains
A constant beat
Each pulse an increase of primordial pain
The hope of expectancy surrendered
Like broken water from a cloudburst in a heavy rain
Something gone wrong
The absence of light
This can’t be the way
That all is set right
The giver of life drained of the gift
The spark itself turned inside
The fire within is within another
A universe within this imploding star
Wrought in the worst of collapsing rhapsody
Written in verse of relapsing tragedy


Insinuation VII: The Spin of the Sphere



June 1, 2014

The spin of the sphere
Is the beginning of fear
And where it leads none can follow
It’s tilted gait
Refuses to wait
As yesterday wars with tomorrow
And the lengthening days
The upper hand gains
And the bluebirds await the arrival
Of the victor’s scorn
Trampling the snowmelt
Of their opponent
Who retreats to the high mountains
Blocking lifeblood supply routes
And starving the proud of
Any further harvest celebration
Until the conquerors meakly succomb
To the darkest deprivation
But their season of starvation is also soon to pass
And the reason of the star’s ovation will not last


Insinuation VI: Earth’s Shadow Not Yet Reaping



June 1, 2014

The lunar eclipse breathes its deepest shade of red
As the waters of earth rise up to meet the dying
A global procession
Where every drop offers
An honest confession
Of unending love
And weeps for the loss of their beloved’s white-blue light
These fluid mourning masses
Gather at the funeral parlor door
Awaiting a turn to glimpse
Her pale face once more
Gathered round in silence
Then a wondrous pause
Then thunderous applause
And there’s been no greater joy since
Her shadow only just sleeping
Earth’s shadow not yet reaping


Insinuation V: No Escape Until Exhalation



June 1, 2014

Inhalation of numbers
A suspended matrix of love and tears
Sweat and pain
No solution for this equation
Just a problem of oxygen suspended in blood
Arriving from beyond the sea
To bring life however brief it may be
But with it arises
The conflict inside us
Carried by wind
Born of dust
Made of earth
Fragile and flammable
Unquenched and unbirthed
Ubiquitous by nature
The post-war riot an ethereal vibration
With no escape just escalation
No escape until exhalation


Insinuation IV: Riding Shotgun in the Cardiac



June 1, 2014

As the plot thickens
The pulse quickens
Signals the release of adrenaline
The fight or flight
The might makes right
At heart it’s all just light
Emanating through nervous roots
Planted deep in the sinews
It’s neither sin nor is it news
Riding shotgun in the cardiac
Pumping beats to keep the blood moving
Regulating the pace of exchange
The old for new
The tired air for the thought of life
Some peace of mind for another
With roots of another kind


Insinuation III: Sheet Music of Endless Revolutions



June 1, 2014

Pulsating depths collide with rock in steady rhythm
Rocksteady rhythms
Seafoam drifts that move in procession
Driven by the upwelling of time
Etching on the surface a crooked white line
A visible record of the upheaval
The sheet music of endless revolutions
Each blast is a rebellion
In search of freedom like water
Moving to this inexplicable beat
Dancing with the reckless abandon of oceans unknown
It’s the song we we fought and died for
We were bought and paid for
We were wrought and made for


Insinuation II: Hunting Reverb for Survival



June 1, 2014

Molten harmonics signal the release of tension
The groaning of tectonic riffs
Played with the volume cranked to eleven
The subterranean chords of metal and rock circle their prey
Descending through chasms
Black air dripping with the sweat of earth
Waiting to shake its foundations
And strike
Hunting reverb for survival
And it hides by the deepest frequencies
Amplified by the frequently deepest seas


Insinuation I: Lost in a Sea of Synapses



June 1, 2014

Dancing at will upon the innumerous grains
The finite brains of particulate philosophers
Who cannot through their centrifuges
Do anything other than remain on it’s surface
Grasping at photons
Missing the point
Marching lockstep in lines around the corner
Adrift in a city of relapses
Lost in a sea of synapses
Mentally sequencing the circuitry required
To awaken the silicon mined of earth
The silicon mind of earth