The noise has grown unbearable atop a fortress’ ramparts –
ten thousand swooping pterodactyls amidst the horizon,
the bantering of all the world’s inebriated sailors setting sail –
the bellies of every monster growling in a symphony of hunger,
the swarming of every dead and gone spirit’s uprising to the heat –
a chaotic explosion from nothing at all into everything there is,
the drowning out of young giggles within meaningless adult words –
complete destruction of the calm isles veiled by smoky-blue waters,
the solitude of confinement washed out by a high pressure firehose –
the noise grows and grows like an ornery, bad weed strain,
it’s rumble and tumble tectonically taking steps towards world war –
plates shifting, funnels twisting, levees failing, babies adapting,
a species evolving to become accustomed to its deafening noise –
a breed unlike the original roots to a better humanity,
the fields became buildings, the tractors drove themselves away –
malfunctioned smart electronics that will throttle our truths,
skies changing into backdrops to a new storyline –
a scripted game played by something or things much greater,
much wiser, much more antiquated than the pawns moved around –
this is the noise, this is what it must sound like to be swallowed,
by an invisible ocean giant sperm whale, inside of space’s vacuum.


 I want it all…
Not just a little bit of whatever you think you are;
I want every tragic memory, every victory, and every scar;
I want only whispers in between where I am and where you are…
I want you to leave your boot prints on the floorboard of my car,
I want it all.
I give my all…
Never once need to question anymore, once I was yours;
Anyone who knows me knows I’m different from before;
You’re trying to dip a pinky finger in my snow then walk out my door…
You’re a big boy; you’re grown, but when you leave me just KNOW:
That when you try for these thighs, that door won’t open anymore.
I gave my all.

Invisible Lineup.

IMG_3180Creepy Fog…and Sharky, too.


I’ve been spending lots of time thinking in the sand – my brain, far away in the clouds of somebody else’s problems; my life, busy turning itself upside down and inside out on the sidelines of my thoughts.

As I sit in the cushiony filth of time’s tiny granules on the Pacific shore, scanning the horizon for movement, listening to children’s screams of delight billowing atop the wind-snapped warmth that envelope me there; I remember the times when I was here with my own problems, with my own child…I remember that I am my own human being still, despite how detached I have become to that notion.


I have been reminded of the forces that swell within nature; I have been jerked back to the reality that swims alongside of the surfboard’s shadow cast in the water below my strokes and paddles of fury towards the swells; I have been force-fed the remnants of a long-abandoned vessel out there in the deeps; I have been returned.

Where in the madness does the answer begin to appear?

Perhaps the truth is that, after all, we have simply been holding one another up long enough to fight another day, to kick one more good paddle out towards the fog, to survive just a little more somehow. I have been surviving this way, through the forceful shoves from behind to keep on moving ahead, don’t look back just walk.