Spend some time

In a nursing home, 

The woods,

With your mother, 

Without food,

Underwater,

Far from home.

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green

The mountain top from which you came
looks blue in the distance.

The summit on which you stand
is colored by fallen needles from the pines.

Half way between the peaks.  Both radiate a deep forest.  Green.

through castles and red land

You can spread your life
over miles and mountains
wandering this way.
Or you can drown
in the temple fountains
pushed by those who pray.
Your beard will grow
you may lose control
of the smile on your face.
Or you can shave it clean
never fail routine
keep the dust off your feet. I'll sit on your doorstep
strumming my ballads and blues.
I'll busk through stories
married to my tunes.

You hold your breath and cringe
while your children grin
and ask "is listening a sin?"
You say "son he doesn't know,
but he's lost control,
he's smoking and breathing in."
"Is this true?"
They are asking you.
"Is his soul lost to the dark?"
Cause in this man there's peace
though his face is creased
his eyes are like a kings. He's perched on a rooftop
Where he drinks to his ballads and blues.
Overlooking a city that's salty
he's amused.

You can live in the valley
in your own way be happy
but your chaining up a hound.
Get your head out the window
shut your eyes to the wind
though in your ears it whistles loud.
Stop time in the canyon
wander through castles and red land
let the river float your soul.
Volunteer the erosion
of lackluster emotion
melt the stones weighing your mind. You’ll feel the carving of centuries 

none other than ballads and blues.
Dig your toes in the dirt and it’s doubtful
you can lose.

when i grow up

i want, to fish with a 14ft rod and take mountainous breaths. to labor under lamps over strange and outdated instruments. to write and read, be a discoverer of language. to grow and be a father to gardens. to sing and be sung to. to learn more than teach, but teach nonetheless. to play tennis till i collapse. to sit for long periods of time and feel no pain. to stomp and get rowdy with late night music. to run in large chunks, with healthy feet. to eat perfectly, without remorse. to sleep on couches and not worry. i want green fields, white lines, and 22 humans far more often.

thriving is

I was born in Bowmansdale, Pennsylvania. Best thing is, the Yellow Breeches Creek flows nearby. Worst thing is, I now live half a world away. Good thing is, there are rivers where I live now. Bad thing is I can't fish or swim them with my brothers. Fortunately I am surviving. Unfortunately surviving isn't the goal. Thriving is. So I am finding new brothers and wading new rivers.

independence

Independence is overrated

and exploited

and dangerous

and lonely

and vast

and heavy

and revealing

and startlingly enough does not

equal Freedom.

utah is to blame

pennsylvania

is callin my name,

and utah is to blame,

for my wandering

has shown,

that there's a sickness...

called home.

i'm getting it

not sure why my mind is so wrapped up in rivers of late

but it is, and i am. left imagining.

the course of life on the Yellow Breeches

and a spring run hailed the LeTort

numbness is creeping into the bones of my feet.

getting cold feet. or is it hypothermia

two years into life miles from

a pennsylvanian jungle.

but humidity and mosquitos,

ticks and poison ivy,

guard even utopia from the faint at heart

from those who don't belong,

those who are convinced that

bigger is better.

farther is further.

louder is fuller.

i feel the river cooler, the water smoother

and im ok, need a break, but im getting it.

the freeze is now over

What's the hurry
what do you see that I don't see

my vision is blurry
but I am fully real.

You've lived in your parka
since your youth
the deceased

but the freeze is now over
so is disease.

Once you were naked
again you will be

who will you be holding
will you bring peace.

You lived in the forest
till you learned who was king

now remember your brothers
and teach wondering.

mob with the killers

My soul grows old, cause it rolls with the punches, of what its told.

But I don't want to roll no more,

it'll bury me in the trenches.

I'm not old, I'm not old enough no...

I'm naive, though I sleep in the street

I've lost hope, and loads of belief

You ask me how,

how close have I been

I'd say this here,

right here, is the end

and what it looks like.

My soul has been sold, to mob with the killers

I do what I'm bloody told

But I won't be sold no more,

they'll bury me with dozens of strangers

I'm not old, I'm not old enough no...

a mile of sidewalk

Messiah is the blazon on my back,

which is where it leaves me.

Listening to the devil's music,

the speakers keep my ears warm from the wind.

Snow and leaves are falling at the same time.

Every house I pass has forgotten

each basement holds souls captive.

Shrines to death decorate porches

where people have become skeletons

waiting for salvation.

There is no time

All this car needs is a roof rack and a few fly rods. Then give me my waders, pipe, and a Guiness... riverside.



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ropes have ends.

ropes have ends

from which people hang

by their necks

or with their hands

over cliffs and above fiery

bonfires

at which others sit

and make merry

eating vile sugar pillows

with melted chocolate.

and crackers.

does impatience ever pay off? what if you are impatiently being patient. does it? i am not sure.

so i won't be

i feel like someone is forcing me to become an adult,
the kind of machine that works instead of plays,
that disciplines instead of dreams,

those who choose to rationalize instead of using their imaginations.
I don't like how it feels. to be this type of human.
so i won't be.

its mothers day

with each year that passes
July 25th is less and less about me and how long i've lasted
and more about how i've gotten where i am today
my birthday has become a bit like my personal mothers day

Gracias Mamita

2:30am haiku

sitting in the road

left over general tso

now i love my sleep.

they drive without their headlights

You must become a killer

you better deal and welcome pain

you have to run with your instincts

until you've disabled your brain.

You may have to take your chances

even sleep in the road

yes they drive without their headlights

and they only swerve for toads.

They say the city is full of mongrels

too mangy for a home

but they lick my wounds and protect me

from starvation and the cold.

I hope you will stay lovely

stay lovely on the road

I hope you will drop bread crumbs

that you may someday follow home.

i don't know

i don't know what to do when i am given too much.

it renders me off balance, i seem unable to reconcile blessing.

yet i continue to receive things that i do not deserve,

while deprived of the things most would say i do.

bits of unrest and now bewilderment.

i will do my best to be true. true to the soul.

and to those who still believe.

this year has been a blur

still i've seen things, i hope not to forget.