complex cycle of continuation. this is you!

whatever this makes you think should be the caption. so,...?

the mystery and beauty of the Creator - we inhabit a living planet

sunset on the pacific. must....experience....again

missing san fancisco, for the most part at any rate

jen in cafe sapore, san francisco. absolutely beautiful, from woman to cafe on the hill

NOW is what's happening; enjoy NOW

with subtle tones making an easy rhythm,
footsteps become droning missile attacks
on ant hills and dying leaves
newly fallen from sycamores and elms,
and the little bushes i didn't plant but still take the time
to prune and mold to how i imagine
they really should have looked.

what i thought were leaves suddenly
flutter from the treetops,
swooping and chirping,
discussing "where is South -
and do we want to go there?"

my thoughts follow their lead,
upward and out
away from me
for an eternal moment,
one that should not leave me.
sharp breath in, and already exhaling
in a warm wet cloud
gusting from within -
i know these moments are fast waning.

winter is howling over my head,
lying in the stacked clouds,
waking from a very short nap.
She is angry and ready to snap,
waiting to begin her prowl -

but it is not yet her time.

with this new conclusion
and impervious longing,
stretching each moment out
to capture the essence of now,
i put away these petty worries for another day,
bend my sights back down to decaying Earth,
and sigh to myself, "carpe diem, carpe diem."

kbs 4.1.2004

duality of consciousness

‘tis but a dream that has me now awakened,
stirring from slumber as sun scares the moon into transparency;
briefly, i saw myself for who i was, who i am no more.
i move myself from these filthy crumpled sheets
and eat the sandy breeze upon filling my eyes with ocean wide;
step onto the rock and peer to the sky –
let the gulls’ cries and the salty wind
erase my sense of solitude and put me as one
with the insects crawling between my toes.

double columbine [or the layered story of humanity]

knowledge true

if there be a way to see what is hidden,
may it be found in the woods;
hiding in the leaves of trees,
being washed in the cool babbling brook,
living with small, furry friends in a hollow log.
wherever, and however i may come across it,
only let it be revealed, and i will not care how it comes to me.
there is a beauty to the lonely walk,
over leaves softened by lingering dew,
by wild groves of flowering weeds, reminding me of my place,
of the true me;
in these simple sweet living poems i see what i am,
what i am lacking,
how i need to be to attain it.

kbs 4.1.2004