Wednesday, February 29, 2012

Super 8 is great

My friends, behold the super8 revolution. Fuck digital, kids, this is some analog shit!

Friday, February 24, 2012

Oregon pt. 3

skies and grasses passing
all the way there
and all the way back
where are we?
lost together
on our way back home
we are brothers and sisters
of a common mother
we are the chosen ones
on the junkyard I5
gas stations
convenience stores
and auto wreckers
malls to the north
cross border shoppers
no allegiance to either particular country
like a carny at the carnival
too fast for you to catch
too slippery to hold on to
We accelerate with the carefree of teens
Where have we been?
Wouldn't they like to know?
We go
and keep going...

Oregon pt. 2

above all else
sand and wind and waves
crash into our faces
saw in your eyes
as you walked along
and the wind blew your hair
and made your cheeks red
rubber boots
rain coats
all the way there
and all the way home


Such a good trip
the kind that gives you goose bumps
and makes you not pay attention
at work all week
the kind that moves you like a mountain is moved
but all at once
not one stone at a time
Rain fell
and should be capitalised
for it's unwanted grandeur
and knack for upstaging the party
and demanding
in no uncertain terms
to be heard
The hills and trees passed by
like the cars and trucks and fences
We the people
we the fools
when it comes right down to it
and by we
I mean all of us
all who participate
I love the wind
and the raindrops in our faces
The stories never cease
Like a disease, they grow on and on
And continue like a comic or a soap opera
the actors eventually quit
but their faces remain for us all and places and names
a calendric reminder of our own age
the creep creep creep of our lives
It all seems to mean more and become precious
the older you get
You want to protect it
you want to stand up for it
whatever that is
It means different things to different people
It means the same thing to most of us
And speaking of love
all the rest are borne of that
Trying to achieve it is our most predictable thing
Learning to give and receive it
is our most punishing task
And the sheer beauty of life is the reward
if we can find it
we found it together

Friday, February 10, 2012

We had the run of the land that day
Either man nor nature could make you welcome
All wires sang an eerie howl
the rain ran down the glass all day
The horizon black
The tips of the waves white
The anchor watched with vigilance
Small tasks were executed round the boat
the rigging taut and holding
Like a nation on fire, we waited it out
Like a bird on the wire
we hung on tight
The wind kept us devout
and full of respect
the kind that turns boys into men
and you make friends
like you'll be back again

the little people

The colour of life
is the same as death
As though they are both part of the same thing
the mission to Earth
The long grass blows in the wind
the trees are beautiful and terrifying
the grown-ups seem to know everything
But they are flawed in some way
I cannot put my finger on it
They know how to drive and chastise
But not how to fly
It can be done as soon as you close your eyes
It is that simple
don't you know?
The sign on the window
and on the side of the road
tell me all I need to know.
I am not listening
to them anymore

Thursday, February 9, 2012

"I am the cat that eats fish. Seriously. I like fish."
The time bomb
ticks away
like the end of days
Sharpness of the Sun.
the signs are sacred
the line has been crossed
the evenings
the gin
taxis to town
and back
I retract
all my statements
except about art
from the start
I set out
to change things a bit
Others do too
and you...