She curled her tail
About my chest
And laughed a learned snarl.
As grandmother saw,
She knew it all;
I was left to dig the rest.
But even with such torrents stumbled
I walked away on solid ground;
Lost and found,
Cured and spoiled.
Left and forgotten.
Whispered to in silent nods
I needed no affirmation,
No restless waiting line
For I was united,
I was mind and body
And had drank the medicine
Though needing nothing in return.
Tag: journey
Lost Connections (day 1246)
I start finding lost connections
About gurgling waves
Lapping around poles and
Sheet metal, breaking
The X – Y plane
With flashes of memories
That thunder through my hull.
I recognize a lost connection
As rusting red leaves mixed with
Rubber ducky yellows
Spin their way along the Y-axis,
Dancing nimbly with warm arms
Of X and Z stitches.
Lost connections break my conscience
With each dead 3 pronged plugin,
With each false hope of recharge.
But each diagonal floats on by,
Twisting like an unbroken chain of genes
Through my alert moments
Realizing it’s not the destination,
It’s the journey in the end.
My Land | Chapter IX (day 1176)
Rick-John told me how earlier on their journey they had lost two of the girls to a couple of cowboys promising a thousand acres and the most beautiful country a man had ever seen.
I suggested that maybe that wasn’t a loss and maybe it was a beautiful thing. He didn’t seem to understand what I was getting at. Perhaps he was getting greedy.
This reminded me of a legend I once heard of a man living in the wilderness with his daughters because he didn’t trust anyone and couldn’t handle losing a piece of his stead. I can’t imagine what it was like for his daughters as they birthed his children. I had always hoped that one of them was educated some how. Legend has it that his wife slit her own throat with his prized knife. The bastard didn’t even know she was missing until he looked for his knife.
Rick-John, of course, was as innocent as any bank-teller yet as foot loose and wagon jumping as any Iroquois I’d ever met.
I oiled my long barrel thinking about this, John-bo neighed softly in the darkness nearby.
[note: to read the full epic track my land]
Vancouver (day 932)
This city is turning into a love affair
Vancouver, saturated still pullin’ for more
Romance so deep it cuts as the thorn sews
Addictive in the Audrey Hepburn
Black and white kind of way
As if every breath I take leaves trails
Tracing my journey from lover’s edge to lover’s gaze
Big obscene button’ed-up and felted with a liner
Concealing secret pockets holding prohibition’s decision
With unnecessarily charming courtesy
Waiting around the thick-rimmed leather-soled sidewalk corners
As if I should recognize you
I should know that warm gaze and coy smile
Playing with my fancy as I bow
Making my way forth
Arm in arm with another happy day I’ll write home about
Chronicling my romantic love affair
With this lovely city, Vancouver
Into An Envelope (day 924)
Conscious slipped into the envelope
Daring the nocturnal feat like wisdom on ice
Memories flip-flop over the landscape
Wooden circle stains hovering dangerously close
To Turkish tea
Little glass handle-less cups
I’d melt a single sugar cube
Balanced on a mismatched spoon
Through big bay windows
I’d get distracted with cats
Hushed away by crazy-hairs
But beautiful foreign lovelies
To my journey’s eyes
I would reach out and touch
With my curious eyes
I’d watch patrons, their rituals
Some hipsters would come in
Groups of them, shattering serenity
With chess, checkers… what else was there?
What else did there need to be?
Sweet eyes, dimples
High waisted 70s chitter-chatter
There was a couple I loved from afar
Full of love and soft mumbles
That sat in different spots each day
Depending on direct power
The second day I took their seat
Where they had sat when
I had fallen in love
The first day at that joint
Cheers darling, I had to say hello
I love your guitar, your dimples
I love language as it rolls off your tongue
Easing my weary shoulders down
Below this shading summer tree
My new folded philosophy
The Fifth (day 841)
There were five impressions there that day
Two belonged to the Emperor King
Child though he was, vast was his arm
One belonged to the lady tea dealer
Powdered face and blood red kimono
Shimada and the Golden Lotus
Black trim like a bleeding matchbox
The fourth belonged to the fat man Hojiju
Business tycoon but despicable patron
Beard so long it caught fallen crumbs
A neck so indulged it sweat on its own
A stomach sized so large it was custom made
His breath so grotesque nearby flowers wilted
And the fifth, sigh.. the fifth
Well, the fifth is a story
Designed for only respectable ears
Those ears entirely ready to be cured
To be enlightened upon a new journey
Through and over finer paths in life
Along shallow waters edge
Where the spring tips of sakura blood
Flutter in the wind to float on away
The fifth is a story of love and then lost
A heart that danced so lightly on lilies
In the sweet summers pond, so lively with life
A story of silent bicycles rolling through
Low hanging lanes of public parks
Along delightful gardens intricately cared for
Dazzling with brilliant colors
Like a van Gogh day lit dream
And when love effects them
When love finds it’s sacred ground amongst
Great boulder rocks and tiny bonsai
When love settles the folds of a deep blue kimono
Flushing the face free of all blood
With tender thoughts of a young brides countenance
Then, at that moment is when the fifth enters
Along with its strong jawed suitor
In new business formal
But it wasn’t there that the fifth stopped its journey
A sleek rickshaw and a sturdy set of legs
Cobbly streets and dimly lit alleys
Hushed movements behind closed rice paper dividers
And sandals displayed in all sorts of hurry
Emotions rolling down the window like raindrops in the night
Comforting morning departures, comforting silence
Comforting ebb and flow, engagement
Rolling through like smoke
From a freshly extinguished candle
Escaping out through ill-fitting woodwork
Of ancient architecture
And passing through the heart of a lamenting maiden
Deep amongst the last haiku
Beside tokens with memories
Beneath bamboo thatched covers
Protected by fine silken layers
Here lies the fifth
Forbidden from all eyes but two
Forbidden from all hearts but one
Forbidden from all souls but one
Forbidden and almost forgotten
But sacred, and coveted
And lost
Between the Hours (day 823)
I think I forgot my whispers
Ones that wrote of yonder Princes
Striking down foreign conquerors
Wooing fair maidens
And stringing hearts of a thousand courtly ladies
While helping down the fair damosel
Just returned from toxic waters of journeyed shores
I think I forgot to share my love
To shout aloud upon the clouds
About the sky I journeyed to
As the lofty journeyer goes
Where lost was I upon seeing the hawk
And starlings grow
But couldn’t I, in all my guise
Demand a prize forever young
I never knew
I never dreamed
I never sat about the stream
For there I was
Tranquility
Shallow waters
Lost thought
I think I forgot an ancient order
That chivalry demanded
And Providence triumphed
That lasted ’til the morrow gathered
Which never came for long was laughter
Long were hands that guided home
Between the hours of jubilee & rest
Learned Journey (day 640)
Remember that feeling as we swept off the sheets?
Placing delicate fruits aside for passionate love
Amid the sweet summer’s breeze
Goodnights and long days fold our hearts away
Sliding the time carefully amongst the wrinkled back pages of our hearts
Crawling carelessly across the barren desert
Scratching away like ravenous fowl
The knees of our plight, the oiled and trusty hinges
Leading the battle march forth
Gravitating back to that passionate distillery
We remember from a day long passed
Move on handsome soldier
Passion changes, lust morphs, love grows
Accepting (day 631)
I pattered to and fro
Seemingly aimlessly disturbed as I go
But I with the plan
With goals laid upon
Accepting at my feet
I would let you in
To my dashing little plan
Should you reach out and shout
Not on this Thursday, though
To busy in your mind
You washed out my truths
Delayed with confusion
Please, I ask let me go now
I’ll set forth from here
Alone with my bushel
Onwards on my journey
Peaceful (day 577)
We all pay attention
Look into the glass
And watch the bubbles form
We all sit in a crowded bar alone
Staring into the absence of mind
And wonder about our journey
We all smile at the little children playing
It’s an uncontrollable thing
The same as laughter modifies our face
We all meld into the future
Unconscious of our friends we lose
Happy about the footsteps we’ve led away
We all have to cry
It’s inevitable in our destruction
It’s peaceful, after the storm