Window Television

Green walls,
green drink,
wood table,
wood seat.

I sit inside
looking outside.
A somber reflection
on a busy intersection.

Window television.

A smoking man jaywalks.
A pregnant woman waddles.
An 18-wheeler speeds through the yellow light.

Cars swarm around the naked, quivering trees;
left growing in this paved over world.

The humans have won.

Billboards,
Benches,
Bistros,
and bus stops.

These are all temporary victories in nature's infinity.

Human virus.
The Earth has come down with a bad case of People.

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Patiently waiting: A Memoir

Somewhere underneath wi-fi signals and cellphone towers, well below satellites and spaceships, shrowded by powerlines, covered in cement and technology, in the shadows devoid of atoms there are sweet nothings. I sit still pondering. This is the type of place that still has payphones; where cold hard facts mingle with paranoia. I stand on the lakeshore fathoming the drops of water in our universe.  The stars shine through the cosmos down to the grains of sand they outnumber.  The campfire flames lick the burnt logs. The freshly dead branches tend to scream when you toss them into the fire. There's an extra bit of moisture that escapes through the inferno. A satisfactory death screech emerges from the pit of damned, burned wood harvested for it's final flame.

The longer I stare at the stars the closer I feel. My third eye expands to fit the scope of all existence, and I become a grain of sand. As visibility darkens, imagination blooms. The call of the loons echoes past distant moons, and the fire rages on.
And the fire rages on.
And the fire rages on.

Tent camping in the woods boils life down to the basics. It is my favorite thing to do; a reminder of past lifetimes without electricity.

 Pinewoods Campground

Pinewoods Campground

My memoir begins somewhere in the middle. The first chapter was ignored; the future belittled.
Okay maybe not ignored, but forgotten.  The running joke in my family is that I don't remember anything from when I was younger. When conversations turn to reflection on past family trips, I can't picture them.  My Mother questions why they even took me anywhere, if I wasn't going to remember anything. Perhaps it was that decade I smoked weed, but I do know one thing for sure: I had a great childhood. That much I can say. I don't remember all of the specifics, but it was better than average. 

I consider myself lucky to be among the last generations of children growing up without the internet. Of course, it did enter my life, as I recall, around the age of, let's say 11 or 12. Until then, though, it was all bicycles, action figures, swingsets, Nintendo and baseball. I knocked my two front teeth out on a slip and slide (they grew back). I climbed trees, I scraped knees and I fought bees. 

World news didn't exist to me then. There was no war, no terrorist attacks, no police violence, no racism. I was 17 years old in September 2001, and that event didn't even seem real to me. That was just an image on TV of a place I had never been to. As far as I was concerned, before I was twenty, I was invincible. The only thing that had power over me was girls opinions. And I was convinced they all wanted nothing to do with me, so I decided to act like I didn't want any of them.

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Truth be Told

The place we live: A stage to perform.
Death: The climactic finale.
Love comes and goes in all shapes and forms.
There are hills. There are valleys.
The wind blows.
Oceans ebb and flow.
Crows crow.
So it goes.

Think and Breathe

You cannot erase me.
You can only forget me.

Our memories in the ethos
dance without fear.

Think and breathe.
Blink and leave.

The hands on a clock
rotate around the face
at a pace
akin to the human race.

A turbulent world swirls about.
And I in the middle of the storm.