I planted you on the horizon
And placed a ladder at the fence
I let each apple fall slowly
To the soft ground they went
For if I had not let this time
A sacrifice to the gods
I would not be able to achieve
What every man dare grow
Deep inside reflecting pool
Honour in deep blossom
Tag: ground
Spruce Story (day 2247)
The old spruce and I sat silently
We shared secrets unspoken
We shared ground softly packed
I looked up and counted to one hundred
Each branch I gave a name
Each name remembered its origin
In the world of seven valleys
I heard ravens nesting
Squirrels chasing
And I felt each limb slowly shake
Watching each needle slowly fall
Tumbling to the palm of my hand
Which rebirthed my blessings
In each moment of doubt
Until I stood where the spruce had stood
And I inhaled deeply as the spruce had inhaled
And I listened as the spruce had listened
And I swayed as the spruce had swayed
Until the seven valleys became my valleys
And my story remained so.
Eroding (day 2050)
Loveless and love loss
The nature of a sulk’n heart
Band around my middle name
Forever leaving marks
River runs through every rock
Stepping off the dock
Eroding goes away my time
Raven watches mine
Truth displayed upon deep bark
Mountain high, valley low
Scratching at my back
Needles upon our heavy ground
Ode to Autumn (day 1931)
When I was a little lad
I can remember quite vividly
How I’d run around in wool:
Jackets, mittens, and a toque.
Rosy cheeks would rush between
Piles of raked leaves
Exploding as a shaggy dog may
Tongue half way to the ground.
I remember putting my nose
Pressed right to the ground,
Smelling dirt and grass
And observing in minute detail
Leaves turning from green to brown
Crackle them along veins
Once so vibrant, so alive, fresh
Now so similar to the dirt
Squished between my fingers.
Bugs, beetles..
Busy in the dizzying mirth
Of all such decay.
Here, I would stay,
Madly fascinated with stacked flower pots
Textures of clay now everywhere!
From where did they come?
Every Autumn was fun,
Preparation everywhere,
Chopped logs and canning jars,
Hockey sticks and Halloween,
Snow banks and toboggan pulls.
I can remember the dying sun.
To Be Ready in thy Soul (day 1725)
I wish I could reach out to you
Hold out my warmth in arms
I’d be your blanket wrapped around
To keep thy soul in tight
I wish I had the strength to grow
As the tree grows up and down
I’d have protection under me
To shade thee from heaven’s rain
I wish I was wind beneath
Your sail so taught and ready
My breeze would cool on warmer days
And speed thee through thy storm
I wish I had a bent back
Worn from thy service to thee
I’d be rags to keep thy feet
From ever touching hard ground
Whiskey Tracks (day 1457)
A ground has beginnings:
Longing and forgivings;
Mandate in a bottle,
Lost without a harbour.
As blue sky’s winning,
Heart jumps spinning;
Lover and a well laid plan,
Governor’s left this land.
Help the lizard.
Death on a one way street,
Trucks getting really beat,
Dust covering wiskey tracks.
Inside A Bag (day 1006)
I’m stuck in a bag of invisible fabrics
Four to a row in uneven stacking
Massively bulging at the edges and pushing
From inside this bag of invisible fabrics
And if I should get to the top of the bag
Can you imagine what it’d be that I’d find?
Perhaps a wild land of unspeakable magic
Or a desert so sweeping I’d fall back inside.
The company’s not bad inside this bag
It’s rather amicable to be all conjoined
Amongst pears and apples, and mushrooms and goo
It appears the eggs haven’t prospered in here
I’m certain that someday soon I’ll find
I’ve been placed down on some solid ground
And as much as I enjoy this exciting ride
I’ll be off and gone, out of this bag
Turn the Page (day 970)
Today my wings fell off
Gravity took them from me
Curling and twisting the whole way down
Smashing as they hit the ground
For a moment I stood there
Dumbstruck
Unaware where life will lead
Unsure how life can continue
I bound what was left of my wings
Like one would a broken toy
Desperately holding onto memories
Avoiding change
My tail between my legs
I moped on, off into my distance
One mixed between here and there
A mirage straddling the line
Chestly (Charley) Winterbottom (day 680)
Oh my sparkly stars
IT IS MORNING
A glorious day!
I have so many things
I’d like to do today!
First, I’ll circle the tree
Twice
Then I’ll have some breakfast
On the nice broom shrub
Perhaps I’ll see my friend
Simone de Longnose
Out and about today
He’s a quiet one though
It’s hard to get him to stay…
In the heat of the day
I’ll head to the shade
Climb the giant fig tree
My sanctuary of happy!
My tree for me!
Mom doesn’t go up there
She prefers the ground
But I can see the world
The whole entire world
From up in those branches
I’ll nap there
Up in my tree
Mom usually calls me for dinner
As I dream in my tree
But I’ll come down then
Because today I just know
There’ll be berries
Mmmm I love the berries
But bamboo is good too
When you’re hungry I guess
What will you do?
Chestly can be purchased here.
Paper Bag Blues (day 625)
The dark pitter-patter watering the ground
Next to the paper bag I sit on
Gives me that Hank III slow train blues
Rhythmically eating away conscious lobes of my brain
Reminding me how often I’ve felt this way before
Stuffed down a hole by my own negligence
Lacking attention to details
Uncommitted hippy attitude to all things present
I’ve put myself here
Wet paper bag singing it’s soul to my lonely hooker’s mind
Sometimes we all get an urge to howl at the moon