The northern winds have found their home
High above the timberline
But you and I were born to roam
To wander through the whistling pine

Once the summer evening dies
Our love will be of yesterday
One more glance into your eyes
Then we can laugh our love away

Someday youll find out who you are
Someday youll be more than just a shooting star

The road has claimed you for its own
To put your damage on display
With a steel guitar and a microphone
I hope that youll find your way
Someday youll find out who you are
Someday youll be more than just a shooting star

But you wouldnt know it
cause no ones ever showed it, nobody showed it to you
but that doesnt mean it isnt true

Someday youll find out who you are
Someday youll be more than just a shooting star
And maybe then youll realize just how much you meant to me
And maybe someday 

You will be free

                                                                         -Harper Simon

snow.  pins against the window.  i remind myself to keep supple, to bend so as not to break.

the snow is stiff heavy and wet

the round shard of pottery from a kiln dump in china happy in my pocket at last

amulet of peace and healing

fill the space with light

faith
a clock on the dresser following the sun
the first thing you see when you rise
elephant memory tusks dancing
hearts and flowers
miss you.
faith.

out of the air, Dz. asks what 5 names id name babies, were i to have more.  there seems to be a vibe here...
and now in light of a recent lark, i wonder at the jest

strange strange current of things unfolding

i am

Quid Pro Quo Series #1

you are like a hurricane is playing. you go out and look at the sky. the sky is filled with cold angels. the northern front skims through you a knife in water. you put the song on again. anticipation and ennui. someones fingers drumming somewhere above their head fly cold angels. the sound is cold feet to the frozen street late in the afternoon when the sky goes out. hands in pockets lonesome head to heart falling forward into slick gloom. the lights come on in other peoples houses. cold death of the Earth you huddle near the hearthfire smoke breathed out into the room like a woman with a cigarette. kuala lampur in monsoon. breathing dense and sickly scented. your skin grooved like a brain. the sky unfamiliar colors pulsing and flowing through you. the birds should be getting suet soon, bring wood in to warm before burning. deep inside something stirs.

Atom Heart Mother

 miss you.

waiting for the meds to kick in mindless omen playtime.

*****needs attention too
*****needs to lose 20 pounds
*****needs to hurry up and give birth
*****needs to finish her latest novel, and make it very good
*****needs a lifeboat, but this is largely her own doing

*****is a headcase (!)
*****is pregnant
*****is happy!
*****is having a girl
*****is flaking out on scientific notation!

*****will be heading back to fill the jeweled shoes once more
*****will be bigger
*****will move to south reno
*****will live on
*****will try to be "more positive"


(this last one for nod xoxo)



(aw shucks, this one too..."i dont go too fast but i go pretty far...")

a shout out to a personal demigod for all things IT/RX. 

a boon request:  would you be so kind as to sketch out the seitan bbq recipe and send it along to blackcaribou at live dot com?  most excellent and again thank you, i am.

Happy Birthday to the Man Who Brought Us

i heard someone recently describe his voice as having been "soaked in a vat of bourbon hung in a smokehouse then run over by a car."
id like to personally thank limpy for introducing me to him.

3am "you are required to something only if you do it voluntarily."

guerrilla art project #67 operation angeldust

infiltrating the post with glitter

headed south and east

a million billion packets of light touched by my love for

zuzu and the puppetman

it is a pilgrimage of sorts.  of being blessed amid constraints, of finding beauty in a broken world

thats the best we can do

let our light

shine

down the coast ill cast my light
sketched out gluestick packing tape east coast mementos
trailing back toward home
kites of love
with tales of ink and pigment
lovesongs scratched out at redlight badcoffee crossroads
ill draw the horizon
the truckstop
the song in my head
i promise.

if i ever had another child, or a band, i would call it 

"ponder the folly."

an open letter to the president:

it occurs to me:  how well did the surge work for us when we applied it to people who had no real pressing beef with us?

with all due respect, sir, we had our maximus handed to us.  how well do you suppose itll go over when applied to people who have sincerely committed to our annihilation? i think thats what i tried to say in my first email.  its throwing good money after bad, except our money is blood.

i knew afghanistan would be a bramble hydra hedge for you before we crowned you.

but you creamed my frontal cortex in optimism

let the light shine through stained-glass windows onto my broken little heart.

this nation has already overpaid for one mans hubris.
may peace sing open the coffers of love we have hoarded in our fear.

most respectfully,

an Earthling

.

"herd animals who do not comply will be eaten."

it was perfect clear cold outside quiet silent orion thin air a million ways to wear this hat i wear.

from outside i can hear miles and i smile grey groovy house in the

valley of chimneys breathing songs to winters cold

a globe of smoke a goblets belly painted red

salamanders sylphs prickpinning the night to the morning

grey horses haunt waking edges

their strong breath and good smell in the valley of dreaming

the breathing gets to be like water and you know youre going

the water breaks light into splinters a course of winging swans into the orchestra

the silver ribbon shes pulling from the wishbone says something crucial you cant remember

when you open your eyes.

the moon a low egg opening the night a rose monsoon

my face is open and many times laughing under the sky a flannel left long in the creekwater

i invest in secret projections youre between rainbow and transcendent resolution and tarot rainfall and time i am no empress but priestess one after the mage i am threshold angel gatekeeper
artemis mary hekate changing woman
something keeps me up these nights craving cold earth smell cheeks glowing with moon and tomorrow
i send sage breath and circle light to you
to you.

play cypress play something with no words at all the rest i leave unsaid

i look for you in the lists and youre not there.

cold blue dusk december eve 2am vertigo clouds its warm naked water warm my hands open trying to catch signals.  crows low above the road the light a bright cream smudge at the ridgeline last rain on bulbs buried for resurrection.   many people looked at me and smiled i wish i knew why it would make all this easier.

desert sunset candle and white sage red wine again unicorn asylum in a raintree while pricking demons pull up rail ties and sever telegraph cord.  when sentries are set at the perimeters, my crossed crusaders appear deep within the infrastructure.  the wooshing helps me remember my meds.  i cant believe anything nice theyd have to say, except maybe from you.