Although here in my Seattle home, I am only 200 miles away from my Oregon, the fact that health has prevented me from returning for a number of years, and makes it impossible for me to ever again trek the breathtaking wilderness of that region, that lives so vividly in my memories — it feels that it might as well be on the other side of the country, in a beautiful, unreachable dreamscape. This envisioning I’ve written here of my return is presented from that perspective. It is likely also sparked, in no small way, by a subconscious wish that I could return to the robust health I enjoyed most of the 25 years I lived and explored in Oregon, discovering and falling in love with its precious beauty.
”It is not down in any map; true places never are.” — Herman Melville
Across the chasm of time
and great distance
memories unfold
vividly rich
like elaborate origami sculptures
as the paper of this odd map
unfolds bewilderingly before me
even ‘cross this flat
boring land spread
I see in my mind’s eye
soaring ramparts
of sky-piercing mountains
forested tier upon tier
with enormous sitka spruce
scattered brewers
known as the weeping spruce
the most beautiful of the conifer
whose branches in summer
display sunlight
as a jeweler’s velvet
showcases gems
the whispers
of wind-stirred
lawson cypress
towering ponderosa pine
and douglas fir
waft down emerald climbs
tangerine-scented white fir
a fragrance rivaled only
by the rough-tufted red cedar
the dogwood’s brilliant leaves
big-leaf maples
pendulous western maples
tight ranks of dark-green sadler oak
the golden shimmer
and crisp crackle
of white-barked aspen
these live and breath
boldly in my heart
calling me forward
this morning’s sun comes crisp and bright
enfolding my waking in warmth
and vivid presence
the world fresh and fascinating
I embark toward noonday
the joy of homecoming palpable
senses saturated and alive
blissfully consumed
by a deep satisfaction
that permeates this afternoon
my soul is full
my mind is clear
my heart — overflowing
as dusk descends upon this place
painting its heady grace and expectation
my pace is smooth and steady
the downing sun — a gentle gold embrace
early shadows fall soft across my face
as vesper’s velvet blanket
drapes its comfort ’round my shoulders
splendid calm envelops me
yet there are other shadows
strange distractions
that disrupt my moments
they come unannounced
almost imperceptible
but I follow close
without fear
the way blazened in my mind
and there is still far to go
I am eager to journey
drawn by the beauty
that is the rising moon in sunset
facing into the evening breeze
I venture onward
rolling amber and coral
spreads across the horizon
again the shadows shift
dull confusion finds me
I lose my pace and focus
but I do not heed
this temporary distraction
nor the suggestions of this creased parchment
unfurled before me
for it is not what will lead me home
I do not let it sway or stray me
for my heart knows the way
yet
nagging concern
disquiets me
a stab of panic
pierces my solace
have I been gone too long
will it feel the same
unwelcome bewilderment
grips me
holds me
uncomfortable in my skin
a cloud of frustration
sweeps over me
obscuring briefly
my purpose and destination
then the fog wafts
and again I envision
across the veiled valley
of time
my hearth and home
twilight is coming
much too quickly
and my concern
at first a nuisance — mounts
a gathering feeling
gnaws inside
fear I will not make it home
before this sunset
I am afraid
to lose this evening light
that leads my way
but my way
is not on this map
not on any map
it lives in my heart
and in my soul
this calms the disturbance
of my reverie
quiets my mind
brings my fear to settle
as the ease of remembered beauty
and warmth of home
swell my soul
ahead are the mountains
and forests of my Oregon home
where I finally return
to reclaim my heart
this day
now I have
such sweet recall
pulling me forward
urgently
even in the faded light
of many distant memories
these visions have held me breathless
soon I will gaze upon them again
As you read this Christmas poem, with its taste of bittersweetness, see it not in a dark light — embrace it as a tale of a long-awaited journey, to be with the one beloved.
B rushed my shoulder on this morning’s train
then at the market it was there again
while in line to get my breakfast tea
from our favorite table it beckoned me
in the crowd at the festive mall
glimpsed like a flicker of candle light
I swear I saw it fleeting fall
upon the gifts I did not wrap this night
upon the tree I did not decorate
the greeting cards I did not write
in frail voice I chastise fate
singing carols doesn’t feel right
this season I see it everywhere
the shadow of your love
elusive as a shopper’s smile
caught up in the crush and shove
but soon I’ll catch and hold it close
warmly to my breast
it will sweetly fill my heart
lay soft with me this midnight rest
for it returns this night each year
the same night you went away
in dreams you kiss away each tear
touch my lips that beg you stay
taken from my life in sleep
gone without a last goodbye
as we dreamed at midnight deep
each year I weep and wonder why
but this year I’ll not awaken blue
in the end an easy thing to do
this night I’ll make our dreams come true
this midnight deep I will come to you
* Watch me read Frozen Man complete version: CLICK HERE
Stopping is no option
to lose the way is to keep going
keep moving forward
lest one atrophies
rigid with despair
paralyzed with doubt
locked in hopelessness
bound by fear
the giving up
is the giving in
is the rot that sets
with the loss of wonder
when grip lets go of dreams
loss of faith debilitates the soul
cripples the manifest light
that shines so bright
at the leap into sacred uncertainty
so bright
as to boldly illuminate truth
frozen is the frightened man
withered in a worried cage
terrified of the wrong step
of the journey all in
of daring the way unmarked
wounded by fear
bleeding out the color of life
hemorrhaging joy
exsanguinating possibility
a cold brittled husk
mired in regret
for never having shone so brightly
as to blind the eyes of death
as to light the way of truth
valiant is a voting man
a hero heard and heeded
a cry of dissatisfaction
a voice of change
a stand for defiance
stopping is no option
so senators and congressmen
you best heed the call
don’t stand in the doorway
don’t block up the hall
for they that will lose
will be they who have stalled
so brothers and sisters
raise up your hand
let it be known
throughout the land
if we want change
we must take a stand
This is a long-form, free verse poem, contemplating the post-apocalyptic ‘last person on earth’ theme, the “omega man” concept. This is a sobering take on the end of the world. It is also a love story, love lost that is.”
Fire Mark
~
I remember when it happened
remember well
the all-defining fire mark in time
that forever divided then from now
comfortably alone
walking up along the forested valley
that is our property line at the back
my eyes drifting up the azure waters
of the clear mountain stream
that rolled towards me crisp and pure
at the instant of the startling sound
the strange light
I cast my eyes to the very tops of the Douglas Firs
they stand proud at the river’s edge
sentries for centuries
protecting this northern boundary of our lands
steady and enduring
yet always supple in the winds that waft and quicken
whispering the breath of life
into this pristine realm
then came the second blinding flash
lighting the entire sky
tears glistened
the damned fools had finally done it
two years on now since that ominous event
but I never can forget the bone chill
that penetrating feeling
in those moments I knew
the cities were vaporized
I was isolated
alone
but how alone
too long now
since I have shared this vast beauty
with another’s eyes
with her eyes
with any eyes
or found my voice to exclaim its wonders
yet I still ramble the valley
wade the stream
given to an ever-rolling mumble
jabbering quietly to no one in particular
at the ragged edge of coherence
clinging to the chance
I might be rewarded with a response
her response
any response
but she had gone to the ciy
so only comes the murmur of the constant stream
carried on the season’s breezes
I have held my mind in good humor
bound by the glory of this land I wander
tethered to the waning hope
that she is not gone
that they all can’t possibly be gone
a hope buoyed by the majesty of these forests
that climb their way skyward
with the patience and persistence of the ages
but each day
a horrifying realization
grows in my mind
suffocating my soul
they are gone
every ~ last ~ one
gone
can I last
have I that patience
how long can I hold center
when comes my personal fire mark
my sunset
how long until my fragile psyche unravels
scrambling in lonely panic
seeking human contact
tonight I will sit alone again
in my room
in the soft light of the fire
the only light and warmth possible
since that fateful point in time
when the world’s infrastructure
collapsed
alone
month after month
in the smothering silence
in the maddening quiet
of this voiceless world
in which nowhere can be found
her eyes
any eyes
These sculptures are called cairns. A cairn is a human-made balanced stack of stones. The word cairn comes from the Scottish Gaelic: càrn. Cairns have been, and still are used for a broad variety of purposes, from prehistoric times to the present. They are stacked as landmarks, direction finders, memorials, and also spiritual reasons, among other purposes.
For society to have a real chance we need quality education!
Last Hope
~
I lift myself quietly
very quietly
from beneath the sheets
soiled with neglect
soaked with my nightmares
I am again awake
from another dark night
that began with fear
fear I might not survive
and ends in sorrow
realizing I did
I rise
make my way carefully
past the shallow-breathed crumple
that lay milky-eyed
in a heap on the floor
un-moving
save a twitch of the head
a head which now harbors demons
where nocturnal angels of sweet release
had lain down lush upon it
in fevered embrace
lustfully conjured
by last night’s spoon and lance
still skewered silver in the soured vein
this wreckage is my mother
I stop but for a glance
verifying life
then move on head down
angle to the bathroom
to the scum-brown bowl
to wash my face
lit sallow by the yellowed bulb
that hangs bare and lonely
strange eyes
hold me in the mirror
broken as my heart
eyes of knowing
eyes of sadness
grief courses through me
weighing upon my being
burning into my heart
I want to cry out
but there is no one here to hear me
no hero that can help me
driven by instinct to survive
by urgency to flee
I shudder away the paralyzing despair
in this dank food-less morning
in this ruined single room
in this coat-less chill of predawn
I gather up my books
step lightly through the door
down the damaged stairs
into the hostile streets
heavy with this childhood of strangled dreams
I duck and dodge
in and out of shadows
praying to once again avoid the evil
that lurks and slinks
among the garbage and graffiti
of these crumbled bricken’d canyons
that rolls slow and lethal
gripping cold blue steel
in predatory drive-by
evil
seductive as a smile
deadly as a snake
evil
which if diligence should fail
I fear will consume my soul
deliberately I continue
until at last I find my way
to the building
to the classroom
to my teacher
to my desk
radiant vision silken skinned
translucent alabaster blaze
torrid as a teen’s temptation
leaned low
here before me
yearning
straplened ankles fragile turned
stiletto’d rise
on carpet soft
emblazened vixen
forward bent
availed so boldly
flush with craving
graceful face
brazen aglow
comely raised and tilted back
my fingers tangled in your hair
lifting firm
yet luscious slow
swept away in lustful swoon
forearms rest on velvet sheets
eyes aflame in sapphire need
blatant in your fetched seduction
Hedone’s daughter lush with Spring
smouldering
in golden light
that folds upon you soft as satin
‘cross nape of neck
arched silk desire
down glistening back
that tempting tapers
to the tender
warm and sultry
wonderland for fingertips
to touch
and tease
and tantalize
to explore
your quivering body
soul-addictive
luscious
grand
divinely-pleasing sculpted vessel
brought forth by Aphrodite’s hand
virgin fruit swells full and ripe
flesh silhouette to hypnotize
enticing in the candle’s flicker
fondled by my hungry eyes
they stroke and tweak
the blossomed berries
that burst
engorged with passion’s heat
that taunt my tongue to twirl ’round
my teeth to nip in playful tug
draw to my lips
now lewdly moist
to take
and taste in eager suckle
willful hands
of pleasured probing
wrap slender waist
then slowly slide
‘cross pleading hips
of sensuous rise
to fall into erotic folds
molded from the charms of Venus
’round dual swells of burning myth
that writhe
atop two lathen’d stems
long and lithe
as liquid love
turned by pleasure’s gloried angels
tempered in a sacred fire
stretched taut
raised high on tips of toes
proud
defined
and goddess buff
enough to make one
want to stuff
to thrust and thrust
in randy lust
’til passion’s seed
has turned to dust
Arrested ~
unbuckling her regulation holster
she lays it neatly
on the sest of her cycle
she removes the rest of her wespons
and places them on the ground
she is now unarmed
but she is still packin’
unzipping
she lets her regulation uniform trousers
slide in a nylon rustle
down her thigh high lace tops
to fall
gathered at her sculpted ankles
leaving her regulation leather heels on
she steps over her slacks
abandoned at her feet
she walks toward me slowly
hips pivoting left then right
taut thighs mesh silken
swish swish swish
placing one foot
in front of the other
striding with authority
heels sounding
click click click
she approaches
backlit by the red and blue pulses
of the BMW’s frenzied lightbar
she stops
straddling over me
as I am handcuffed
sitting on the highway
leaning agaist the door
of my Audi R8
popping and snapping
as the 610 hp’s cool
she unbottons her regulation jacket
and drops it at my side
she’s left only her regulation shirt on
as she unbuttons
it blouses open
her body badge is revealed
the gold glints fetchingly
as it dangles
on a thick leather cord
from around her smooth firm neck
resting nestled
in the perfect cleavage
of her pert young
braless breasts
no
these are tits
perfect tits
right out of a teen’s temptation
aglow in amber warning lights
her nipples
proudly erect
partially veiled
soft in the amber wash
gently rise and fall
with her heavy breathing
leaning over
fixing me with her fiery eyes
she speaks
“you were driving recklessly – sir”
then rips away her black string thong
helplessly
looking up
my eyes glide slowly
lustfully down her length
fondled warmly
by the flashing golden-orange
folding and refolding
upon her luscious flesh
they pause in gentle decent
entranced by the velvet mons
shorn smooth and oiled
sensuously shadowed
in the satin cleft
where supple limb
meets supple limb
intoxicated by this vision
I can only stare
swelling rigid with excitement
and swoon
breathless
after the clutter of leaving
after the hurry of goodbye
after sweet anticipation faded away
after no more embraces
after the laughter was memory
after the sadness collected day upon day
after the spaces fell empty
after the familiar grew distant
after our time together had become the past
after the taste of regret
after the loneliness mounted
after sands in the glass spilled away much too fast
I did not think it would be this quiet
I did not think it would seem so far
no I did not know it could be so quiet
nor did I know how this silence would scar
