rock of air

up,
on a rock of air
you float you
i float me,

there is
nobody
there is no matter energy space or time
i am unraveling
with lugubrious hope, longing for
the forever moment
we do float

12/27/08
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it is april 16 2000 a sunday morning

absolute truth
a painting of roses
sleeping
loving
spheres of tonality
edges of harmony
blossoms of melodic conclusions
a low bassoon
a french horn in the low register
and a clarinet
all an octave apart

4/16/00

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listen

listen to the quiet
how quiet it gets
the songs I grew up to i cannot forget
over and over they roll ‘round in my brain
i found my first love then i lost it again
listen to the quiet
how quiet it gets
the oceans roll with laughter at the tears you have shed
the light in the sky shines down on your face
a star you are in this magical place
love comes around to be on your side
she’ll be an angel as you flow with the ride
listen to the quiet
how quiet beyond
what you see feeling and
what you see gone

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trinidad california

i found you laying blue and green
kissing in the night
the moon soft and bright
the mourning of winter trees
stars that twinkle and flicker
secrets never revealed
never has there been a pure and powerful place like this place
this new
this train of winter trees
this train of time that i hold onto

01.08.02
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the only medicine

the only medicine is love
peace is a condition unto itself
your light is not alone
together we are a revolution of love
let your light shine
love one another
let love in

2001

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house of time

you have been the same for oh so long
is all you were meant to be dead and gone?
oh, house of time
the winds do blow, paper whites grow, the spring does know

oh, house of time
you hold my secrets inside your walls
you open your doors when my heart calls
your quiet splendor hides my sorrow and
you are where i’ll live tomorrow

where is the joy i sing about
what is it that i cannot live without
i want to feel what i have to give
is my struggle just an illusion that i live?

so, house of time
in your cream and gray
chipping so slowly
perfection fading away

i cannot fight cannot resist
i cannot survive what time does miss
forgive my pride, my scorn and shame
i am no saint
only peeling paint remains

it haunts me now
it lays me low
it finds my breathe and never lets me go
i am not me
i am not i
i am that god, but for him go i
i am not my words, i am not yours too
just passing with time
just passing thru

04/01 wichita, kansas

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oboe

after the time of the blues
i am where i want
i show you the high and low
i let you go, oboe

flyin’ far from the “shoulds”
i celebrate the mystery of discovery
of what makes me happy
i show you high and low
i let go, oboe

1/20/03
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wednesday

touch my heart, mend my soul, be my love, into my whole.
until i become washed away in your breath, in your arms,
in your sweeping energy that travels into light.
light fields growing blossoms of yellow petals,
green grasses, white lilies, and purple sages.
they call me home, they call me to the prairies,
to the mountains, to the sky.
take me home again.
let me feel safe-where i am not afraid.
thank you for your understanding.
i await you.

9/33/04
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she is a tear

she is a train
she is
a drop of rain
an inch of silver
a mile of gold

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what is your number?

let us all join together in this quest for harmony
it is an easily recognizable time to be loveable and kind and spread goodness to all
find your center, the place that feels deepest inside yourself

join us to spread appreciation, gentleness, & patience for each other.

remember
you are each other.
we are each other.
i am you.
we are not created equal in the material temporal world although we…

we can bridge those differences.
do not give up.
be grateful.
your days on this earth are numbered.
you just do not know what the number is.

9/10/08
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crossing bridges

there was an artist who could only photograph bridges. he was obsessed with crossing over. he found bridges everywhere to cross over and photograph. he searched the universe to experience crossing over and took pictures to remember how wonderful to cross from one place over to another place. the bridge was always unique. the crossing over was always unique. the photo was always in black and white and gray and light. that made the photograph. his eyes were right in front of each picture but you couldn’t see them. you could only see the picture, the photograph. you could never see his eyes but they created the picture. they recognized the bridge image and then created the picture with the camera. many pictures were created, many bridges were crossed over. many times he realized the picture of the bridge, he remembered. the realization was always present before he saw the bridge. divine destiny.

mechanics of a camera

and a bridge

and a photographer.

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