is it all a day-dream?

well,

2011-02-08T20:25:00.001-08:00

it finally happened.

and i am so happy about that.

half-birthdays

2010-12-06T18:06:00.000-08:00

today is my half birthday.

if somebody asks me how old i am,

i will say in all seriousness,

"twenty-three and a half."

i will continue to say this until

i am twenty-three and three-quarters.

today i got one half of a birthday card,

but one whole cupcake

(minus one bite).

did you ever have a half birthday party

when you were a kid?

i think i did when i turned three and a half

or maybe it was four and a half.

i got a ball to play with that looked like a ninja turtle.

i think we should celebrate half birthdays for everybody.

so find out when yours is

and make your friends celebrate it.

sedgwick

2010-11-30T22:44:00.000-08:00

for lefty

i much prefer
the white noise of
the country;
swarms of bees for
vibrating cell phones,
the wind in the scrub
humming like a freeway
that will never run through it,
birds’ murmurs, cattle cries
instead of car horns, sirens.
your ears,
marred by screeching
el trains and cab drivers,
say life in the country
is too quiet.
but mine say be still
and hear the cacophony
of coyotes, bulls, birds
and breeze.
such beautiful noise.

fire building

2010-11-23T23:14:00.000-08:00

to build a fire is

a great art.

i half-watched my father do it

more times than i can actually

remember,

but never quite understood

how to get it right.

i have tried various methods

and in the process have filled

the entire house

with headache-inducing smoke.

but tonight i chose to ignore

what everybody else has said

about building a fire

and did it the way dad used to.

the house still filled with smoke,

but we were warm.

there was a smell i used to notice

upon entering the house in the fall,

one that i hasn't recurred in some time.

but i think in the morning

when i have gone to collect more wood

to start a new fire,

the smell will be there

and remain until the spring time

when the cool of our house again becomes

a treat.

i don't know why i wake up.

2010-11-23T08:29:00.000-08:00

i am realizing

as i wake up in a frigid house every morning

that although i had an

early awakening

and have had every opportunity

to learn myself,

i am just lost.

i know truth and goodness

and how to be a decent person,

but don't really know where

i'm going or what i have woken up for.

but i like waking up

and finding something to be excited about.

i don't think answers will come

by way of shining signs from

the heavens,

but might reveal themselves

once the question has been forgotten.

i just wonder if all of those people

who seem figured out feel like i do

or if they wake up and know,

"this is why i have woken up today."

a dinosaur project.

2010-09-16T10:04:00.000-07:00

i have started a new project that is sure to make me waste even more time using the internet. it is a blog devoted to learning the favorite dinosaurs of people i admire or find interesting, or just random people. i think it will start by accumulating a good list of the dinosaurs people like, and then maybe a weekly update. just thought that anybody who reads this might like to know about it. the link to the blog is as follows:

www.whatsyourfavoritedinosaur.tumblr.com

i hope you enjoy it.

chair carrying

2010-08-30T10:47:00.000-07:00

i picked up two teak chairs

in order to transport them

from the front to the

back yard.

in searching for the most

comfortable mode of transport,

one of the chair's legs

rested in the small of my back.

here i thought:

i like the feeling of an

extremity pressed against me

just so.

what's even more,

i melt at the idea

of someone

putting an arm there

without ever having heard

it's what i would enjoy.

fishing

2010-08-29T21:22:00.001-07:00

I had been fishing before. But never deep sea fishing. I guess this trip couldn't exactly be classified as deep sea, considering our boat was maybe only a mile offshore, but I knew that the water was deeper than I cared to think about. So I was deep sea fishing. The men who took us were raised as fishermen in the small town of San Juanico in the southern half of California's Baja Peninsula. They spoke little English, and we spoke little Spanish, so our conversation was limited to basic unconjugated verbs, English words with an added "o" or "a" at the end, or the occasional pronunciation of an English word with a Mexican accent. Our reasons for sharing each other's company were simple: we wanted to catch some fish for dinner, and they wanted to make an easy fifty dollars.

I don't know if it was my lack of experience as a fisherman (I wasn't sure if I could even call myself one) or my excitement to catch my first fish longer than a foot (I certainly had no guarantee that I would catch anything), but I was incredibly attentive during the four hours we sat in the fiberglass boat, its itchy flakes permanently embedding themselves into our clothes. Our guides (interestingly both named Juan) tied fancy lures to the ends of our fishing poles and threw them behind the boat. Juan Luis (the driver) smoked cigarros and slowed down any time one of us felt a tug on the line. He didn't seem very excited to be in the ocean, but was kind enough to drive us around until we had an amount of fish with which we were satisfied. Juan Piteco sat near the front of the boat, and any time we caught a fish, he would take the hook out of its mouth and hit it on the side of the boat so it wouldn't flop around so much.

As I sat on the boat looking backwards at my line, I was thinking almost every minute, Maybe now I'll catch one. Nope. Now. Nope. Maybe now. This train of thought went on for the entirety of our expedition, and I only caught two fish the whole time. But I think my optimism was crucial in the coincidence of those fish choosing to bite the fluorescent plastic lure so expertly tied by Juan Piteco. It was the first time in a long time I was able to partake in an activity without thinking of anything but accomplishing the task at hand. I think I should like to find more activities like that in my life. I want to have a job like that. I wonder if my inexperience led to my attentive spirit. I think people should search for things they really love, and find a way to spend their whole lives doing them. I'm not saying I want to become a fisherman, or a pro surfer, or make it big in a band. I'm just saying I want to spend the rest of my life searching for really interesting things to do.

sedgwick: for kenny

2010-07-30T00:01:00.000-07:00

i much prefer

the white noise of

the country

the swarms of bees

replacing vibrating cellphones

the wind in the scrub

like a freeway that will

never be

birds chirping instead

of car horns or police

sirens.

you say life in the country

is too quiet

but that's because

your ears have been

deafened by screeching

el trains and impatient

cab drivers yelling obscenities

but i say be still

and hear the cacophony

of coyotes, bulls, birds,

and breeze.

such beautiful noise.

one year

2010-07-26T22:30:00.000-07:00

one year has passed.

i came into your room

and you asked me where

your costco card was.

you had helped me to get new tires

for the car that we drove

to san francisco,

red rock, hurricane harbor,

laguna beach, grandma and grandpa's house,

rincon.

i had no idea where that card went

but i knew you wouldn't let me go to bed

until i found it.

so i did, and left it on your dresser.

you lifted a drowsy arm for a hug

and told me you loved me.

when i couldn't find you

the next day or the one after,

i had no idea if i could

manage getting out of bed

or mowing the lawn

or seeing the ocean.

but the sun has gone down

and come up

quite a few times since then

and i knew you wanted me

to get out of bed.

i have only mowed the lawn

two or three times

and every time i touch the ocean

i feel you.

now i sleep in your bed

with the peace of a child

who seeks comfort late in the night

after a bad dream.

i know you would still let me

jump in after a bad dream

if i asked.

thanks.

on murder.

2010-07-21T10:20:00.000-07:00

we used to have ten chickens

that gave us about ten eggs

per day.

we gave them a really big lawn

so they could run around,

poop in lots of places and be happy.

they often decided that they were

too good for the lawn,

and found their way into our garden and compost pile.

when i was in thailand,

our speckled sussex decided to try

rhubarb leaves.

curtis said his dog ate them once

and that he became epileptic.

i think our chicken was on some kind of acid trip for a few weeks.

the other chickens could tell,

and they were really mean to her.

yesterday i found her hiding in the ivy

getting barked at by a dog

on the other side

of the fence.

i pulled her out and watched

Frankenstein the hen peck

a bunch of feathers out of her back.

we decided that we would

kill her, to put her out of

her misery.

so that's what we did.

i will miss our beautiful

speckled sussex.

the weatheradio

2010-05-27T01:46:00.001-07:00

Dad's Weatheradio sat in the kitchen window. Sometimes if I woke up early enough I would find him in the kitchen listening to it. Any type of greeting I would attempt to offer was quickly silenced by a finger to the lips and a look that said, "You'd better be quiet or I'll miss the surf report." Knowing the importance of the surf report, I remained silent and settled for a hug in which I usually buried my face in his chest. I used to think the voice was a surfer by the bathrooms at Rincon telling the weatherman how the surf was. I later discovered that it was a computer giving information like swell direction, wave height, and water temperature. The antenna broke off once, but instead of buying a new radio, he stuck some pieces of metal in the hole where the antenna used to be and it sounded good as new. Sometimes I turn it on just to hear that voice. If I close my eyes I can feel my face in his chest and smell the warmth of the morning's silence.

naps.

2010-05-04T14:52:00.000-07:00

He really liked taking naps. He fell asleep mid-evening and arose far earlier in the morning than I ever could have become accustomed to. As kids, nap time was the most boring part of the day. We had to stay in our rooms, re-reading select titles from the hundreds crammed incorrectly into the bookshelf, or building forts (quietly, of course). Sometimes Angel and I were allowed to go into each other's rooms, but if we were loud enough to wake the sleeping giant across the house, we were in huge trouble. I remember at the old house being told that I would get spanked if I woke Daddy up during nap time.

Naps were different than bedtime. You could come home and into his room at any hour of the night and he would happily raise his tired arm to express his gratefulness at your safe return, uttering a jarbled "see you in the morning." If you came in to let him know you were home during a nap, he would most likely be seen walking through the kitchen several minutes later with a disgruntled scowl on his face. We learned really quickly never to wake him up during the middle of the day, and more so learned to wait at least twenty minutes after he had woken up to ask him any sort of question. questions were not allowed after nap time.

It seemed that whenever he would go down for a nap, the wind would start to howl outside. The avocado and oak trees in the front yard used to be a lot taller and they would be dancing all over the place. Even though I would have liked to maybe watch Ninja Turtles during nap time (or quiet time, as it came to be called because Dad got tired of trying to make us take naps), I sure as hell didn't want to go outside. It was as though he had this innate sense, an internal clock triggered by the changing pressure systems outside, as if his paternal instinct was protecting us from getting blown away.

So he would take naps and we would become a little more literate. He loved being asleep, but it was always better when he was awake because we could listen to Ray Charles or Bob Marley and slide across the wooden floors in our socks and play Chinese Checkers or chess and make sandwiches and run through the sprinklers and pick avocados and and and.

The guy was the real deal.

the hobo

2010-04-29T23:46:00.000-07:00

he had a fiancee from minnesota

named diane.

she was passionate about

classical music,

and played the violin.

on their first date she asked him

what he was passionate about.

he answered: ocean liners.

after talking about it a while,

she wondered: if she were a ship,

what ship would she be?

without hesitation, he answered:

aquatania. not aqua.

(you see, ships in the early teens

were made in threes. this was so because

they wanted one ship on either side of the ocean

and one in the middle at all times.

aquatania had sisters

named lusitania and

mauritania).

all of the ships had nicknames, too.

aquatania's nickname was

"the ship beautiful," which is why

he decided to call her such a bizarre thing.

she died in a car accident,

her violin survived.

he put it in a blue trunk

and put it in the basement.

years later, his daughter found

the violin in the trunk

and plays it.

he searches for recyclables in

trash cans.

listing

2010-04-22T23:07:00.000-07:00

i have made some lists.

of things to do

of things that make me feel happy

of songs that are good

maybe you can help me find out the name of a list the following things could be compiled into:

turquoise

the smell of old books

shirts buttoned all the way to the top

t-shirts tucked in

film cameras

shirts not buttoned at all

bicycle tires

spectacles

vests

brooches with ladies on them

fountain pens

the smell of wet earth

heirlooms

sweaters

mason jars

pulling weeds

porches

wooden things

i guess that's it.

the winner gets a surprise.

top tens

2010-04-20T22:19:00.001-07:00

there are some people i know who like making lists.

i sometimes like them,

but usually don't when someone makes one of things for me to do.

this is beside the point.

i previewed the top ten songs in the itunes music store a few minutes ago. i don't know if it's because we're not present in the past, but it seems that music from twenty or even ten years ago had a much more distinct ability to be categorized or even classified as good music.

i don't really know if i could classify any of the segments of songs that i heard as any type of music, other than music that is popular now. i guess that makes it pop music. weird to think that pop music forty-five years ago was the beatles. some might even classify jimi hendrix as pop. he was, they were, really popular.

but they had musical prowess and ingenuity that was deserving of popularity. it's like the conglomerates that decide what is going to be popular don't trust musicians to be creative or ingenious, and instead pump out what they know is going to make money.

the creative ones and the ingenious ones are now left to be discovered in the old fashion: by going to see local music and hoping that the band won't be terribly influenced by the music on the top ten list at itunes.

web logging and lenting

2010-04-07T22:18:00.001-07:00

i meant to give up something for lent. i really did. i inadvertently gave up logging my thoughts on the world wide web, but i think you're really supposed to give up something you like to do. well i didn't. but right there towards the end, i felt a conviction telling me to stop for good the things that i was too weak to dispel for only forty days. so i don't have some insightful anything to say about what i learned from giving things up for a long time, but i guess i'll be all the better for it. at least we have five chickens.

on growing up.

2010-02-24T08:44:00.000-08:00

i have had to grow up

real fast.

it seemed (and sometimes

still does) that

my soul was too young

for all this rapid aging.

i want(ed?) to:

go on big camping trips

live in a van

have a simple existence

stop paying bills

watch night time turn to day time

climb buildings and trees.

but now, i find that:

i fall asleep early at night,

my body hurts more than it should,

and i'm really excited about

planting a vegetable garden.

should i feel bad that

i just want to stay at home

and work in the garden all day

instead of going on the

adventures that i always

promised myself i would take?

certainly the younger list is

more exciting, and has a

potential for great stories

when i really am old.

and certainly the older list

is more comfortable

considering it's what someone

does when they don't

have the energy to do the

young stuff anymore.

what did you mean when you said

to geoff, "owner of the world"?

on quitting.

2010-02-13T17:32:00.001-08:00

i thought it was a good idea to quit. withdrawal from every thing is the easiest option; all one has to be confronted with is others asking, "where the hell have you been?" some times i still think it might be a good idea, but then i go to a dive bar and sing loud with all of my friends and throw the feelings of inadequacy out of the window for a few hours. that is where i feel the most complete. the following hours when i have forgotten how to be self-conscious are more fun than the days fretting over how somebody looked at me funny or responded to me in a way that i didn't like. every town has its ups and downs. and for right now the ups out-number the downs.

papa.

2010-02-04T00:45:00.000-08:00

i needed to see

for myself.

the punctuating deaths

of his parents before him

held no closure,

as impossible to understand

as morse code to the deaf

or a silent film to the blind.

being too young

or too far away

to see grandma and grandpa's bodies devoid

of the breaths they had once

exhaled into my scalp

in a hello or good-bye,

it never felt as though

they were gone.

but this time

i had to see.

to touch his beard

and not feel him

stir beneath it,

slightly irritated

at being awoken from the slumber

he so cherished.

i had to hold his hands,

which had gripped my and angel's

shoulders in what was our last

picture together,

hands that flipped pancakes,

squeezed orange juice

stroked through the ocean,

fingers whose nails

looked like mine.

the unresponsive form before me

held no solace,

its image is still as fresh

as the scrapes on his forehead.

but i needed to see.

i needed the image of the man

prepared for the fire

in a humble cardboard box

to know he was really gone.

i was naive to think

it would ease my pain;

that i could go forth

as though my personality

wasn't completely dependent on his.

but grief makes us think strange things.

his smell is gone,

his mess is concentrated.

but he is still here in

every kind gesture

every shoulder grasp

every composted orange peel

every pulled weed

every fire in its place.

so that's why i needed to see.

go ahead.

2010-02-03T23:58:00.001-08:00

hey. you.

go ahead and:

spell babys how you want to.

use ampersands without spaces after them.

defend yourself against those who can't see that it's a part of your cleverness.

keep writing good stuff.

love,

geoff

it's cold outside.

2010-01-23T03:46:00.001-08:00

it's cold outside.

and inside too.

i'm in my bed and i can see my breath.

whoever heard of it being so cold INSIDE

that one could see their own breath?

maybe my breath is just that warm.

when i left

2010-01-22T12:26:00.001-08:00

why did you cry

when i left?

just wondering.

a pretty good place.

2010-01-20T13:23:00.000-08:00

i'm not sure i have a favorite place.

but there are some places i really like.

for now (each time i look up from the

computer) i'm looking at the three

windows in my living room.

they are fogged and

blurring the trees in the yard,

who fit together in different shades

and shapes, but stand in stark contrast

to the white-washed, paint-needing

inner walls that help keep the rain on

the roof and not inside.

"i'd give it all gladly

if our lives could be like that"

croaks out of the speakers as

the percussive water on the roof

accompanies the boot-legged hiss and pop

of the phonograph album.

we used to listen to records

while playing scrabble.

we never kept score; rather, it gave us

food for thought.

i would sit on the floor

and he on the couch (we could have sat

at a table) reminiscing times past,

some that i never experienced.

now as i sit here

i must find a new way to occupy

my time, be it

playing solitaire with the deck

that bears his mother's name

in elaborate cursive on the box

or just looking outside at the blue jay

that my sister is convinced is

his spirit making sure we're okay.

i could close my eyes anywhere

and be sitting on this couch.

i could close them right now and see

dad coming back from the woodpile

in his sweats and a barrow-full

of food for the fire that i do not often

have the mental wherewithal to build.

a toast.

2009-12-01T19:04:00.000-08:00

the road.

and to guthrie.

to going hard

to jimi hendrix,

trevor borden

and curtis davenport.

in the words of mr. hapke,

"men of incredible stature."

on what to think

2009-11-06T17:44:00.001-08:00

i think
i quit.

tom waits for nobody.

2009-10-28T14:08:00.001-07:00

this man is a genius.

if you have not listened to his music, do it.

as diana small so brilliantly said:

he took what was right under your nose and made it into something you never could have.

on fall(ing), or the atumnal equinox

2009-10-28T13:43:00.000-07:00

you hear crooners sing about
the first day of spring,
the birds out early in the morning,
the rain, the summer and its freedom nearing.

it's nice to see the plants grow, and for the sun
to shine until late at night.
but i like the fall.

i like:
having to put on a jacket before leaving the house
(hence having a jacket to offer someone if they forgot theirs)
the wind
cold mornings and cold evenings
fires in their places
dark early and dark late
raking leaves
mist from storms in the ocean

if one could have a formative season,
mine would be fall.
if i ruled the earth,
every day would feel like the middle of october,
or the autumnal equinox.

a great accomplishment.

2009-09-27T22:21:00.000-07:00

September
2009

Geoffrey Jensen and James Hapke

If you're ever in Santa Barbara in need of a salsa dancing and surf lesson, go find James and Geoff. This newly formed corporate entity will teach you all you need to know to help the attraction factor in your life skyrocket to new levels. Ever seen anyone salsa on a surfboard? Take our advice and get a lesson or two on your next vacation.

(from the pigeon toed celebrity of the month page on the pigeon club website. www.pigeonNYC.com)

on loss.

2009-09-20T22:46:00.000-07:00

i am not home.

i am in the house i have lived in since i was five,

sitting on a chair that eric stein stained with a plum-juice mouth when i was nine,

i and james and my sister (sometimes) and my earthly possessions occupy an area

that i couldn't imagine being lived in by anybody else, ever.

does that make it home?

i would rather be taken from my bed while sleeping

and violently awakened on a moor in the middle of the day,

fog so thick i can't see but five feet forward (or back, or left, or right)

making it impossible to tell any heading that might lead me

in the general direction of home.

without a tongue to ask somebody where i am.

nobody would be able to tell me anyways.

this is worse.

the sky is clear.

i can tell direction and see pretty far,

but i don't know how to get home.

you should always let your mom take pictures.

2009-08-23T15:10:00.000-07:00

even though you hate it,

and it makes you embarrassed,

let your mom take pictures.

let her take them when you're

far too old to be wearing a

party hat on your birthday.

let her take them to put on

the christmas card.

and try not to be so difficult.

you won't regret it.

twenty-two

2009-06-07T22:20:00.000-07:00

as a result of the passage of time,

i have stayed a live for twenty-two years

on this planet

with no major illnesses.

i still have all my fingers and toes

i have never had a cavity

i still have hair

i can still balance

i still see

i still hear

i still taste

and i have just learned to feel.

bring on the next twenty-two.

rhapsody

2009-05-13T21:22:00.000-07:00

i re-discovered this poem that i used to read several times daily.

it goes as follows:

Sat in the cheap seats

Of Symphony Hall, squinting

As the instruments tuned up

I could pick out only you:

Fourth row back and clutching

Your viola, bright hair spilt

Across the strings. You were

Deep in a flurry of pages

With bitten lip, too

Intent on forcing that

Melody right to the cheap seats

To notice me up there, ears straining

To block out any sound but yours.

-Ben Ziman-Bright

ineffable

2009-04-27T23:22:00.000-07:00

such gracious qualities of

serenity

that i felt

ashamed of any inner complaining.

spoke to her,

noon,

for the first time.

stress

lifted beautifully

and completely.

black top coat,

blue dress,

yellow dress (marigold),

green dress (white collar),

ineffable.

-joseph cornell

all i had

2009-04-21T23:00:00.000-07:00

all i had was this

small photograph of a little girl

in a field of daisies,

hands behind her back

and a look of excitement on her face.

you can tell by her eyes

that she's excited

but not from her mouth

because it is hidden by

a flower that's nearly as tall

as she is.

i will never know who she is.

or where she lived.

or what she grew up to be.

i only know her in this

field of daisies,

this instant that i could hold

in one hand,

that she smiled that smile at least

once, simple enough to split the sky.

and now my photograph is gone.

the little girl in the field

who seemed to be all alone,

in a field that could not have

existed without her standing

right in the middle of it.

she's gone, and i can never

ask for her back.

freedom

2009-03-11T21:12:00.000-07:00

at the city gate and by your fireside i have seen you prostrate yourself and worship your own freedom,

even as slaves humble themselves before a tyrant and praise him though he slays them.

ay, in the grove of the temple and in the shadow of the citadel i have seen the freest among you wear their freedom as a yoke and a handcuff.

and my heart bled within me; for you can only be free when even the desire of seeking freedom becomes a harness to you, and when you cease to speak of freedom as a goal and a fulfilment.

you shall be free indeed when your days are not without a care nor your nights without a want and a grief,

but rather when these things girdle your life and yet you rise above them naked and unbound.

and how shall you rise beyond your days and nights unless you break the chains which you at the dawn of your understanding have fastened around your noon hour?

in truth that which you call freedom is the strongest of these chains, though its links glitter in the sun and dazzle your eyes.

and what is it but fragments of your own self you would discard that you may become free?

if it is an unjust law you would abolish, that law was written with your own hand upon your own forehead.

you cannot erase it by burning your law books nor by washing the foreheads of your judges, though you pour the sea upon them.

and if it is a despot you would dethrone, see first that his throne erected within you is destroyed.

for how can a tyrant rule the free and the proud, but for a tyranny in their own freedom and a shame in their own pride?

and if it is a care you would cast off, that care has been chosen by you rather than imposed upon you.

and if it is a fear you would dispel, the seat of that fear is in your heart and not in the hand of the feared.

verily all things move within your being in constant half embrace, the desired and the dreaded, the repugnant and the cherished, the pursued and that which you would escape.

these things move within you as lights and shadows in pairs that cling.

and when the shadow fades and is no more, the light that lingers becomes a shadow to another light.

and thus your freedom when it loses its fetters becomes itself the fetter of a greater freedom.

-kahlil gibran, the prophet

grown-ups

2009-03-03T23:30:00.000-08:00

i think there's an age at which

grown-ups no longer exist,

similar to santa claus or the boogey man

when one realises that they are certainly

as old as the fabled grown-ups they once thought to be

so stoic, so courageous, so wise,

yet one does not always see the wisdom or courage

in their peers

there is no slow fade, no line one crosses.

the ones we call grown-ups are different from the children

in few ways:

they cease to imagine,

cease to seek the good in others,

cease to trust the honest (there are few who are),

and they have greater means

with which to inflict harm on each other.

children have sand to throw, hair to pull (over a stolen best friend or milk money)

and the grown-ups, the ones we thought were so fit to protect us, to show us the right way,

have bombs to drop, and blackmail (over a stolen best friend or milk money)

all they have learned is how to better disguise their mischief,

and since they no longer have grown-ups to tell them what they're doing wrong,

their children will end up the same.

they just think that because they've been in school

and have been around longer that they have some kind

of seniority,

when in reality,

kids are the real grown-ups.

they have all the answers.

the coast.

2009-02-27T16:39:00.000-08:00

"how wonderful to know that someone who saw this coast in such undiminished beauty appreciated his good fortune. one of the constants of my own love of this coast has been an idle wish to have seen it before despoliation--it's hard, sometimes, to take Emerson's advice and believe that the world at its richest is honestly here before us."

-daniel duane, caught inside

hyacinths, part two

2009-02-26T15:37:00.000-08:00

there was a blue hyacinth

on the window sill near the

front door this morning

they called me the hyacinth boy

i don't think anybody knows

where the hyacinth came from

it didn't have a note on it

i thought it might have been

for me

given my new interest in them

as a literary reference

i saw my grandma in a pink

bathing-suit, smiling

and pointing up at the sky

i think maybe it opened up

on that day in 1984

and gobbled up a feather or

maybe a whole bird

and took it and turned it into

me, three years later

she looked at me with that

smile all the time.

i won't be found

2009-02-04T18:31:00.000-08:00

well if I ever see the morning
just like a lizard in the spring
i’m gonna run out in the meadow
to catch the silence when it sings

i’m gonna force the Serengeti
to disappear into my eyes
then when I hear your voices callin’
i’m gonna turn just inside out

well if I ever get to slumber
just like a mole deep in the ground
hell, I won’t be found

deep in the dust forgotten gathered
i grow a diamond in my chest
i make reflections as the moon shines on
turn to a villain as I rest

well if I ever get to slumber
just like a mole deep in the ground
hell, I won’t be found

i know there is a hollow
i need to fill it with a draft
of all the words that I wont way
and with a quiet whisper
i send a curse upon the day

that never used the sun to see
the light

i’m gonna float up in the ceiling
i built a levee of the stars
and in my field of tired horses
i built a freeway through this farce

well if I ever get that slumber
ill be that mole deep in the ground
and I won’t be found

-kristian matsson

names.

2009-01-27T01:19:00.000-08:00

my friend once said

that it's rude to ask a person

their name upon meeting them.

like maybe it's privileged

information, or too valuable

to be given away as freely as it is.

so now, when i meet somebody

new (even though they readily

offer their name), i ask them,

"what's your favourite dinosaur?"

mine is the ankylosaurus.

hyacinths

2009-01-26T09:27:00.000-08:00

you were the one

in the summer dress

the one supposed to

dance around in the field

in bare feet

upon whose stomach

i was supposed to rest

my head.

you were the one

i knew was usually

looking across the room at me

who would give me

the precipitous look

or squeeze my shoulder

in passing.

you were supposed

to sit with me on the bus

and let me put flowers

in your hair

and reach for me in the

early morning hours.

you won't do anything

you were supposed to.

you're o.k. with that.

me, too.

like sand in the gears

2009-01-25T20:00:00.000-08:00

they tell you that oil lubricates

the gears, keeps them

turning smoothly and efficiently.

they tell you that it's your

duty to make sure the machine

runs well

so the rich can stay comfortable,

the average can work the hardest,

and the sick can stay sick.

i won't! i won't! i tell you,

i will be the sand in the vaseline

the pebble in their loafers

the mosquito emitting a high-pitch noise into their ears as they sleep (how can they?)

i will not co-operate

and let another life contribute

to the lie that we are all

working for a common good.

when they give us the best of the worst,

we treat it like precious ointment,

while the best of the best

are rejoicing in stink

and giving all they have

to help the rest remember

our capacity to love,

however much we decide to forget we have it.

the yellow fish.

2009-01-22T01:31:00.000-08:00

i found that

i had to stay real low

spread my arms like a strange sort of bird (maybe a condor?)

put my knees together like

some other strange sort of bird (an ostrich?)

one might think

i would look rather silly,

crouched down

arms outstretched

knees knocked together

with a silly moustaches

and wet hair

in a neoprene body-suit,

and i might agree with them (although

it was really the only way to make

the yellow fish

dance across the darkening

sheets of glass; the fish-dancing

was, at the time, my primary

concern).

the un-aimed arrow

2008-12-30T18:37:00.001-08:00

i chose the prime location:
a closet whose door had not
been closed in four or five years
where head-phones could be
plugged in to the record player,
affording me transit
to a canyon where
a clarinet player played real good
for free.

a series of events that led me to
a man of serious wisdom
who illuminated an idea
that made the future
less ominous.
he simply said,
"the un-aimed arrow never misses.
think of how you can
live your life well day by day
and you'll get to where
you were meant to be."

so i am putting an arrow
in the bow
pulling back the string
closing my eyes,
and letting it fly.

let's go.

today

2008-11-18T09:06:00.000-08:00

today
at the beginning
of drawing class
amanda said,
"geoff!" and pointed at the window.

i walked over to it
thinking she wanted me to
open it or something

but then i looked out
of my own window
and saw
thousands of little birds
dancing across the dusk

have you ever kept your eye
on just one
in a flock?

amazing to think that
as i leaned myself out of a window
to watch such a spectacle

that He, at that moment
was keeping His eye
on just one (smiling wide)
in a really big flock.

yesterdy

2008-11-15T04:40:00.000-08:00

yesterdy (my grandfather and other old people
say it this way)
i was walking to the store
for some chocolate milk.
almost there,
i saw a small feather
falling from somewhere above me.
it looked like it was out of place,
frightened to be surrounded
by the tall buildings
i quickened my step (just a little)
and it fell
into my outstretched hand.
i smiled and thanked Him
for the gift
of simple beauty amidst
the complicated and ugly
and thereafter
supremely enjoyed my chocolate milk.

la lluvia

2008-11-08T16:55:00.000-08:00

i love the rain

for the percussive melodies

it beats out on roofs,

for the patterns it paints

on old window-panes.

but, most of all,

i love the rain because

when i was little

and had inevitably lost my umbrella,

mom would hide me

underneath her trench-coat

all the way to the front door.

what i would give

to be caught there in a down-pour

and see her,

arms open,

welcoming me to find shelter

beneath her wings. (even though

i really do like the way the drops feel on my head.

God is in the rain, you know.)

the sea and me.

2008-11-08T16:46:00.000-08:00

my fondest memory

of my father (there are many)

is in the ocean,

when i grew to an age at which

he wanted to share with me

his love and respect for her.

we would wade together

into the gradually deepening water,

he watching (but not too carefully)

and i barely managing the board

that would one day hum

in excitement at its increasing speed.

we would stand there

watching the horizon,

looking for the gems.

when they came,

i would lay prone

he pushing me gently forward

at just the right moment.

when i could feel the familiar sensation

of un-aided propulsion,

i would eagerly clamber to my feet.

every time i successfully rode to the shore,

i would look back at him,

fist pumping the air in triumph,

an excitement reciprocated

by a proud smile or a

"hey-heeey!" of congratulation.

this is why

i can never leave the ocean

and will never stop seeking

the un-aided propulsion

she (and he) have taught me

to respect.

on the farm

2008-10-26T14:48:00.000-07:00

"he's one of the tribe!" she exclaimed
with an excited look on her face.
"oh yes," said he with a knowing smile and
looking in my direction
"what tribe?" i asked
knowing already that i was proud to be a member

and all the next day
as i scraped my feet and fingers
on the limbs of olive trees
i watched them walk about with
bare feet, dread locks,
living happily
sans electricity
sans running water
and knew
that i was home.

(how is it that this world is so full of wonderful people and yet
terrible things keep happening every day?)

gypsy jazz

2008-10-18T09:29:00.001-07:00

i am pretty sure
that gypsy jazz
is the best genre of music there ever was.
during the holocaust,
django reinhardt's life was saved
he was a gypsy.
a famous doctor nicknamed
doctor jazz
gave him immunity.
so in conclusion
gypsy jazz saves lives.
it certainly aided in saving my own.

vehicular transport

2008-10-10T11:00:00.000-07:00

i wanted a 1962 volkswagen bus

and instead i got a 1980 fiat panda

and this is okay.

day-dreams

2008-10-09T12:20:00.000-07:00

sometimes
it is all just
dreams
i dream that i can walk right up to
whomever i please
and speak words
before thinking them through.
(most of the time i do this, anyway)
but things never seem to go
the way one dreams them
reality is never quite as bad
as the bad dreams
and never quite as golden
as the good ones
yet we all still manage to find
that we are a live
and that is all we really need to be.

2008-10-09T08:32:00.001-07:00

i woke up this morning with my mind on Jesus
by and by, im going to see the King.