Category: Prose

So Many Stars

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We try beyond our limits
To drown out the stars
Our little lights beaming back messages
Look at our significance!

Stars scurry into hiding
Without fear of self-worth
Without care or interest
But full of curiosity

They ask moon,
Who is this?
Are not our lights
Sufficient for them?

Moon laughs.
“You know, we used to be.
Now, some have never seen our true glory.
And when they do, they are forever changed.
They do not deserve our scorn,
Or pity.
They will be ok.
Give them time,
They are new at this.”

I grew up in the suburbs of LA and have always lived with the veil of human generated light blocking out our wonderful universe and its personal messages. There is much to learn in the places that reveal our true existence. Just by being quiet, watching a shooting star or distant satellite, we learn a little about our reality. The perspective of the totality of our being within this beautiful cosmos should motivate us to a tearful joy.
Celebrate your place in this universe.

Into the Shadows

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Fallen from the precipice
Into the gorge of uncertainty
The liquidity of transient existence

Movement beneath my feet
Created by winds of transformation
My personal tornado 
Seeking to disrupt

But I am unshaken
Strong still
I tell myself

When consciousness bathes me
Its relentless liquidity
Filling every pore.

Never.
Never was I at the precipice
There is no precipice
And these shadows
These new friends
Flow like a gentle spring
Offering shade and rest
Moving toward me

A place I have been
Since birth

Conflict

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“You must join in
You must join us
Not them”

My body floated over the fray

“Come down here
And hate with us.
We will be victorious!

If you do not pick a side
Both sides will devour you.
We are righteous,
And hatred is our friend!”

“So then this must be my demise.
To hover and refuse the chains.
Better to die, than to die while living
For foolish delusions.”

Mounted, divided photograph on plywood. Gesso and oils.

Swallows in May

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Not too much longer now
They will leave this place
For northern climes

This May has been extraordinarily busy for me. I made only my second entry of photographic work for the month last night.
That will change, like the coming and going of the swallows.

After a few hectic weeks, it felt good to let the sound of the river cover me while I mused at the whimsy of these little birds.

Between a Penny and a Nickel

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Love these little ones.
Their weight is about the same as a penny or nickel.
Wings hum at about sixty times a second!
How does that even work?!

Maybe it’s magic, or some sort of unseen juju.
Maybe they’re fairies from long ago.
Or some sort of reincarnated happy energy.
That found its way to find sweets all day.

Just watch it for a second.
Not too many times we get to witness real magic.

(Backyard vid – 4x slomo)