Awake. For a while now. ... Counting out callipers between the PUNCH-LIGHT ... that chalks the bedroom in a Blitzlicht flash. and and and BOOM —- shaking the earth. rolling out thickly to the north. ... Then it comes. leeward slanting rain stings on windows rattles in gutters I can feel the thickness of it. … Continue reading Night Storm.
Dog Nap.
My dog lay silver In the silver sun Belly up in absent trust. ... His lupine paws in sympathy with dreams of chase or being chased.
Endings.
One breath. The dandelion falls apart, into a hundred new stories.
Pack Light.
“Pack light, Throw your keys in the river and cancel all your contracts. Grab a guitar, bring your best friends and hit the road. See the world, taste the ocean and feel the concrete under your bare feet. Play music with no witness but the moon, with no concern of who's listening or what they … Continue reading Pack Light.
Allow.
A poem by Danna Faulds There is no controlling life. Try corralling a lightning bolt, containing a tornado. Dam a stream and it will create a new channel. Resist, and the tide will sweep you off your feet. Allow, and grace will carry you to higher ground. The only safety lies in letting it … Continue reading Allow.
things to teach you now.
Jack Kerouac (1922-1969) was an American writer who was heavily influenced by travel, spirituality, poverty, drugs and Jazz. The following is an excerpt from a letter he wrote to his first wife in 1957. I have lots of things to teach you now, in case we ever meet, concerning the message that was transmitted to … Continue reading things to teach you now.
