Wednesday, January 27, 2010




















vote green
think green
don't just paint it green
even if it is a good color




















Sunday, January 24, 2010

lazy sunday. cloudy

curtains half drawn
open wide to see
birds forage
fog on the hills
looks like snow
plan for tomorrow
examine yesterday
live here and now
speak of this
talk of that
visions of what may come to pass
life
love
lasts
laughs
curious, of how it will end
or just begin

Sunday, January 17, 2010

I heart Vancouver.















 

'67 El Camino. Fuck yeah.














it's a cruel world, paint.











When there isn't much to do on a grey sunday
other than listen to all the news
about how terrible the world is
painting a picture is perfect
for the one in you
who, has everything
Boredom is a curable disease
the medications have been mistaken
time to dance
and think

Sunday, January 3, 2010













The super store is stupid
the lights are white
the doors are liquid
frightening as the quiet
all the while
asking for community
and what is owed
in some comic book way
the scores are settled
the odds are evened
we escaped
through no escape at all
we were right here
right now
admit it.
You will.















beginning another year
without you
such a harsh reality
such  a cross to bear
always in my dreams
you are there all the time now
I never want to wake up
lose you every morning
It seems...

Saturday, January 2, 2010

pacificnorthwest



























simile


















Standing in the wind and the heat
the soldiers of freedom
line the street, the field of dreams
It's been a long time now, it seems
I mean, I am all for freedom of speech
But, do we have to teach, the children
how to reach, for weapons
instead of their hearts
seeing with their ears, not their eyes
betraying, not believing what they are seeing
pass the popcorn, the porn, I'm torn
All the hard work is your reward
That and days on the road
like Kerouac or the Joads
washing your hands in the gas station sinks
not knowing the brink
until you have been to it
Like the edge or death, it is final
The story ends and gets told
Obscene, on the faces of magazines
The TV screen
and the in-betweens.
I am always struck with the similarities
not the differences
Me, the neon, fuzzy dilemma
You, the romantic wilderness poet
We left each other in the past.
Or at the last disaster
We are the masters
Who want to be discovered
All on our own islands
sending smoke signals to each other
Through the fog and time and noise
using music for a uniter and a divider
whenever it was required
Fill the stadiums with savages and intellectuals alike
to see the serious spectacle
that has been laid out before them
Like breakfast or a weak plot
Being mean is all we've got, at times
Usually when we are hungry or tired
Is when we become mired in the muck of luck
And excuses for truth, the youth are pissed
They are coming for us, or the kids are
They wanna borrow the family car
for robbery and murder
mayhem with no apologies
an anthology told through the age of information
Intimidation, orchestrations
Eradication of truth and nature
The strangers are where the dangers
Lie.

Friday, January 1, 2010

washington oregon rain snow fun






 






















road
rain
snow
talk
laughs
a country peculiar
makes sense but defies logic
and emotion
mild, but wild
and made of freeways
and parking lots and forests
with the sound of birds
and the din of the traffic
across the river
from where I stand
the wind blows and I think of you
minutes away
on the other side of town
drove through the pass
in a snow storm
to reach
the beach
the rocks, the sand
and a man, who serves breakfast
and dinner from illinois 
calls us folks
and tells bad jokes
his smile radiant with innocence
diesel, water, potato chips
nostalgia
nuanced criteria
front page hysteria
prevails
the clark and lewis trail
a rock measured in bales
and more tales 
of who we are...