walking all day

A question Does the fact that we have a seven-inch surplus of rain this summer mean that life will continue as normal with little or no focus on the fact that the average rainfall here in Atlanta is simply our only means of measuring something we had no hand in creating   and still don’t understand especially if we see it as an object or event that can be measured objectively through our carefully derived units which we tend to play around with when we are just joking around while thinking that we can actually measure reality when it has no dimension because it has nothing to   hold on to other than our delusional measuring obsession?

As it slices this day away It is as a loud screeching, continuous, percussive in its ferocious rhythmic stabbing, from the beak and lungs of an aircraft-size bird of prey pursued in wild, dipping, circling, zig-zagging, mad, and evasive trajectories by angry, beastly grieving small seed- and insect-feeders, scattering frantic peeps and squeals barely audible to an audience looking up from ground-level, slices this day away from its calm, breezy morning and leaves visions of battle, murder, plunder in air and ear—a scar, somewhere, later.

near Triacastela Galicia, Spain Friday 2 March 2018 Were we to stand still as ocean spray engulfed us, froze in our hair and the wool covering our bodies, then perhaps we could know how the cold weight of wisdom captures all our attention. But the issue then arises, which of us are listening that we may hear and hearing that we may understand?   Will it be only the ones who bought tickets to the lottery, swapped their hands, their meager incomes, to chance?    I am no teacher of the morals of starvation. She awakes from her languid dreams of gentle animals and prods awake the man who sleeps beside her who is to capture her dreams in a small net framed with feathers, woven with spoken magic as small children huddle as shadowed silhouettes against ancient stone walls hidden within cloaks of moss and lichen that breathe in the rain that surges, sprays over the substance of the children’s shadows, and freezes them still in...

In a new bar facing compromises troubling easy equivocations  the name or location of the bar is inconsequential  as are all places and stages  in this parody of reality  we cross vast oceans of time and space and lessons learned  and broken hearts and limbs dead weight dead flesh  and emptiness it seems the last three women I met  wore tight red dresses  but this one tonight is in black and I always run the risk of setting myself up for temptation but it’s not that no  just a reminder that my heart has been torn by true love 

Pamplona Saturday 3 February 2018 pintxos breezy current of air pushed and pulled  the scent of dinner  between us  and beyond us  and off into the golden lit night air and into the space  above the easily chatting couples arm in arm strolling in paseo on some cafe-lined  calle on a cool late evening in some old city  of stone  well-fortified in the dark Basque- speaking mountains  of Navarra