walking all day

    It is soon that I leave this comfortable place; I must capture all before— all pain and passion and  indifference— to climb the relentlessly steep ascent via foot or hands and knees or winnowing face down or forward, like a snake or legless lizard impressed among the dead leaves and fermenting vegetation beneath the scab of air that cushions the planet  from the void and from pure love.

Where the winds come from As intrepid as you are, you will not venture to the place where the winds come from.   You told everyone that if you found the source of the winds then your soul would be torn from your self by those winds and blown to the four corners of this round world.   But by the time the future arrived, you set off on your journey to that place anyway, despite the dire consequence of your soul torn away.   Your destination is a deep infernal cave on an island floating in the ancient Mediterranean off the coast of (to) Carthage (I came). But that would have been your destination, though you were unaware of it, were you returning home from Ilium.   But now is now, and your destination may be an underground laboratory in the white deserts of Utah, but who can tell?   Who can tell you the way to a place where the winds will tear your soul from your self?   For in some days and in some seasons, the w...

Santa Justa, Sevilla taken 22 June 2012 Sevilla a Granada por iPod en aleatorio Pulling out of Santa Justa to Granada, the Pixies, then the Pogues. Angry graffiti, then Roman ruins,  and  the beautiful slums of Sevilla. Beethoven, Quartet, Opus 74, “The Harp.”

when I was in high school band, the entire band would jam to this tune for most of 3rd quarter... the sousaphones doin' bass, of course, and some of us standin' out with solos

this song is so righteous... the vocals, the harmony, the riddim, the wisdom all together in a righteous groove

Keep water handy Green pauses in the grey day, and, in reflection on the surface of the drying pond, scum covered, this draught has brought casualty to even our own images of our selves, dry souls in a dry land, while insistent brush fires crawl their smoky, consuming flame-ways to lap at our clothing and our scorchable skin.   This is the way malice works its way into the personal or the political shapes of our malleable worlds, so keep water handy, be it holy or not, for all of us suffer from that thirst.

groove to the mellowest groove you'll ever groove to

Glass crowded with bursts of reflected light Through glass crowded with bursts of reflected light—warm wooden tables over sturdy chairs—I am peering at pulsing streaks and flashes of headlights through dense shimmering rain-walls— red light green yellow back to red—cameras track traffic— beam it in to nerve centers and into glass-filled data. It is a dark night sodden with heavy rain.     Swirled headlights blend into stretched-out tubes and ribbons of light.   With my blurred exhausted, faded, no-longer-alert vision, I roll— too fast for some, too slow for change—roll uphill on my own power—my fuel efficiency drops in the climb—I ease off speed to slow consumption—bring abundance to a dark future where winds will howl across mining wastes—where air roars opaque with dust.   Flecks of wisdom stick to my hair, await some opportunity to enter via my inner ear and teach me humility, fleck by fleck.   My eyes wince in...

suppose you did knock out the man's eye what would you do? Enos ain't want no one eye what would you do?

we are not worthy

Cantabrian Sea Deba, País Vasco, Spain 7 June 2016 encounters haze grown red in the furnace of the setting sun and was it here that I first encountered you?   floated through currents in the wake of migrating birds gently pushing the cold evening air and quickly I breathed this same air in the time you I first encountered and the rooting black bear on densely tangled mountainside held up by a wooden twisted rope of rhododendron and this was where, climbing the turn of a switchback on the edge of a frigid windblown ridge I did in fact or memory first encounter you as we descended a slow stretch of years to a rocky, cliff- strewn coastline on the Cantabrian Sea as edges of sharply ridged rock spines sloped forebodingly into the sea

Donostia/San Sebastián, Pais Vasco, Spain 6 June 2016 Blue is the color, during daylight, of infinity Blue is the color, during daylight, of infinity, and the night is lit by light from infinite distance, and we are born and brought into being as the twins, joy and pain,   and we study the words and the meaning that fills the words’   sewn bladders, and then we begin to mold our masks as soon as our senses are all sorted out, and our dreams cause us to drift from the space we sometimes know as ourselves to discover what it is to remove our masks, and we train and educate that part of us that thinks  therefore—so we  miss our trains because they were ahead of schedule and the trains arrived there long before we even planned our weekend trip to San Sebastián for to enjoy the warm and softening sun and the sea that sings in  Basque—I am, or seem to be, always planning...

rise up freedom fighters rise and take your stance again 'tis he who fight and run away live to fight another day

we build your penitentiary we build your schools brainwash education  to make us the fools