APW: Themed Free Verse

understand that we understand nothing
our notions of truth and what is
are temporary key signatures for the birds
forgotten coins in the crevices of car seats
our ideas exist to be mocked and toyed with
like a volunteer tomato carried over the ocean
fulfilling its purpose through its shortcomings
there is no turning the clock back
but we can walk an inch on the map
and be thankful we made it this far

in our modern masterpieces


we've become
stars in finite skies
i think how hard it is
to not fantasize
if one had a remote control
and short patience
they’d glimpse my mind
like slot machines in action
the golden street
a dog's moonlit shadow
clouds interrupting the rainbow
the beginning of the end:

a child’s first word

they’d see as i see
the underachievers lost
in the unmistaken undertow
all the sewage gushing out onto the streets
all this procedure and progress
and prolific procreation, except
more people don't always breed
sustainable positivism
there are newborn genius
and meaning in every child
but the turning of a day
shows that nothing tangibly lasts forever

when did we become blind
to the webs we’ve spun with one another
we no longer see anyone
we don’t know anyone’s name
their favorite color
or how they cry when they wake up
because their dream has died
all the potential in the world
and we find ourselves floating in a hot air balloon
drifting into the boundary of inner space

my mind has grown down rather than up
it is filled with underground fantasies
the trick is i learned too late
already confronted with childhood status
superhero rain drops and tongue depressed stimulus plans
problem of this chapter:
I’ve already started at capacity
solution: 
new amendments to my soil
require good drainage

though i'm not yet through other side of the tunnel,
i'm catching the light that filters through in a new way,
this world is built on perspectives and while mine keeps
growing with new angles as i experience different
cultures, ideas, people, i am forging in my mind
an almost tangible shape of the world, but this universe
doesn't have too much of a tangible shape either, at least
not from our human perspective, but if we dig to a deeper
elemental simpler level we can more easily ascertain
what surrounds us and our lack of control and acceptance
of that lack of control.  the postulations will never end, the
universe will never end, our last breath escaping
our bodies on this earth is not the end

there is no more room for dead languages
where do the words on the screen go
when they are edited out of existence
do they join the cowboys from centuries past

the indigenous tribes 
before the missionaries
burst through thatched roofs uninvited


or are they thwarted as outcast
like the third llama
who was banished from noah's ark

alongside the first dummy
intended to estimate
the harm of a car crash

the quiet before the gunshot
inner workings of a clock
stone plopped into a calm pond

is all of history now huddled around a fire
sharing stories
about time that matters




itall

i read it all
on the faces of card players
looking up from their one eyed jacks
hiding behind the shaded lenses
of their selves
i see it all
in pursuing eyes and gleaming teeth
the aftermath of the strike
and i hear it too
in the washing machine's music
i wear it all
on these burdened fingers
just the tip of histories failures
the weighted down generational old
traditions too outdated
for the unknown tomorrow
i feel it all
when a rainforest falls
unnaturally
i dream it all
the white rabbit tip toeing silently
rendering what is meant to happen
and our ability to change it
i slip through it all
into the white noose
next to the hanging planters
hidden in the wild flowers
right where the dead languages die
i understand it all
as a jade vine blossoms
there can be only one
of everything in the world
yet in each inherent uniqueness
we are too proud to join hands
with the weight of our pasts
it’s easier to sink into hazy depths
like strangers in a night storm
than to rise together like flour yeast and water
i sense it all
when the train's choo-choo fades
into the oblvious horizon
ignorant of the secrets its possesses
like a lady ignorant of the effect
she has on the white rabbits
i smell it too
on the fur of a wet city rat
i think it all
leads to somewhere else
i wish it all
proves me wrong
i know it all
and i know nothing
i follow it all
to the end
and chase its tail
back to the beginning

All Together Now: Portland to Fremont and the Road with its Quantum Creases

There is a sign on a bridge, hand painted onto already cut plywood, that advises you to turn your clocks 5 minutes ahead, after all, you are entering the center of the Universe.  This is the introduction to Fremont, Washington, an hours walk from the Seattle Downtown.  Our experience on these streets would give credence to the sign.  If in our present states we are always at the center, and we are engaging with others viscerally and connecting energetically,  Fremont played the part of a lovely host yesterday evening.

A potty-trained well-mannered beautiful eighteen year old parrot named Pepe, reunited cousins of 15 years whose unknown experiences to each other prove connections, spiritual brothers of 3 years brought together through fate, facebook, good fortune and spiritual brothers of 20 years understanding life at levels far beyond the surface and applying their wisdom positively to the community.  Interconnectedly sharing familial bonds and previous lives to Texas, Hawai'i, New York, North Carolina.  We're all currently living in Washington, Salt Lake City, Vancouver, and Maui. We sat outside, drank thai teas, and talked story.  How did we all get there?

Rachel and I, the cousins of this tale, drove down to Portland on Thursday with a good old fashioned map.  Stopping at the farmer's market in Olympia, we admired the craft vendors, the produce, the music, the turnout.  Each town with a market of this nature gains a better sense of community, and this one thoroughly impressed us.  Small businesses, old family businesses, co-ops, the personal feel rather than the consumeristic, cooperate vibes that flood America, trademarked this small city.    Heading south down I-5 we then stopped at Mt St. Helens and went for a walk in the 30 year old woods.  Ready for this?  18 million trees were hand planted after the eruption in 1980 which devastated the landscape with 150 mph landslides and enough lava spewed to pave a 7 lane highway, three feet deep, from Portland to New York.  Now nature blooms in the volcanic fertile soil, the wildlife and wildflowers have returned, and the trails are graced by footsteps of the awe-inspired.

Onto Portland, the city of books, beer, art, green living.  The contagious feel that nurtures artistic stimulation and creation, diversity and sustainability.  It's down to earth with an edge, and all small businesses are crossing over with the artists.  Beers served in bookstores, innovative antique shops, all places conscious of the aesthetics, challenging themselves for the sake of anti-complacency, not for the competition, but because the journey never truly ends.  And don't forget the foodtrucks.  It's hard to miss'em when there are 600 throughout the city.  From Kathmandu Cuisine to Big Ass Sandwiches.

Jazz.  The legend of the sax.  Lucky enough to watch the soul of the greats throughout the 20th century being channeled into the brass that became part of Devon Philips' Being and radiated out rhythms and meters both technical and ethereal.  Backed by a brilliant stand up bass, pianist, and drummer.  They all had their time in the sun, but you could tell they really shone in the cool moonlight.  There was a meteor shower that night.  Even the stars were impressed.

We head up from Portland back to Sea-Tac Airport to pick up Eric after grabbing a Corona-Smith Manual Typewriter from the 60s in a Portland Antique Shop and decided to go to Fremont.  We follow what looked like Seth, our old mentor, driving a mini-cooper and end up on the right road en route to the bridge.  We park and walk past the "White Rabbit" bar for the first of five times that night, eat at "Homegrown," have conversations outside with Thai Teas, walk down to the bridge with new friends, run into old friends from 4 years ago in Mukilteo and grow possibilities for the future road trip.  There was a meteor shower that night too.  Fell asleep in Redmond after a night drive over bridges listening to icelandic bands.  The nights are there to make of it what you can.  The wheel beckons eager hands.

Sustainability of the west.  There are trash cans, some.  Next to them are compost bins for food scraps, paper plates, napkins, etc.  Though some places do no have a trash bin, all they serve up is either compostable or recyclable.  The farmer's market containing local art and produce are busy.  People care.  Working our way to the humans personifying the animals, which segues into:

Become

as i lie down in the thick grass along the volcanic riverbed
water slipping and bubbling over uneven smooth rocks
the academy will gather at the grove and gaze down
at my cushioned brittle bones, a decaying body
in high spirits beckoning curious expressions
i recall the fond memory and share
the day i befriended the bird
unique was her figure, slender, majestic
focused like a hawk, long like a frigate, 
still as an owl, perched exactly as an Osprey
proudly surveying the mississippi from penultimate branches
appearing only as someone who felt at home would appear
next to her i awaited imaginary queues, and of course,
warningless we leapt into cloudy space
circling the thick prickly trunk, spiraling downward
past bug bitten leaves and squirrel bitten nuts
rhythmically flapping noiseless wings, unsure unworried
of the mystery behind the cause of the wind 
and the cause of that
all the way down the turtles back
gliding maneuvering through brush
we weren't searching 
we were midnight dancing under northern stars
through the clearing we soared 
an eagle set on the horizon
the horizontal bridge in our divided life 
of the existing visceral present
and the unforeseeable knowable omnitime
great spirit, collector and protector
of all beginningless and endless flights
we long to realize you, help us close our eyes
and become the bird