Wednesday, December 23, 2015

The Man and His Gun (lyrics)

The man and his gun
kills by law or by hate

takes breath from the world
in his wake.

The man and his gun,
with a severed soul
he sees the other
not as one

Just one finger drawn
but who will fall down?

everyone, everyone around

everyone, everyone around.

Can we return
to when it all began?

and stead learn how to cry
and how to drum, and how to paint, and how to sing and how to dance
and how to hold eachother in our arms.

The man who bows down
to violence and hate
makes others fall down from his pain

One person's anger
becomes another's ill-fate

One shot calls more men forth, more men forth
and they stop the world
with one click
and we're gone.

But there are other ways to sound loud, to sound loud
why can't we scream out our pain
and we'll hold it
and we'll hold it
and sing it away

There are other ways to sound loud, to sound loud
why can't we scream out our pain
and we'll hold it
and we'll hold it
and sing it away

The man and his gun...

The man and his eyes full of pain

look at me, put it down, put it down, put it down

look at me, put it down, put it down, put it down

look at me, put it down, put it down, put it down

look at me, put it down, put it down, put it down

Wednesday, November 25, 2015

old essay from my geology class in 2002

     I stare at nature's chaos: piles of tephra-ash, dust, rocks--indiscriminate sorting that mounds into Bishop Tuff.  Long Valley is lined with enigmas that wonder and baffle eyes: misplaced trees lying at the top of White-Wing Mountain---intrusive dikes that follow a non-conforming direction---sloping pediments that lean towards their birthplace---preservering beuts that outlast their eroded mates--unconsolidated talices lacking any cohesive form or idea.
     Could this mass of confusion have a plan? Examining the type of rock--sedimentary, metaphoric, igneous, we can then estimate an age: Does its wrinkles allow for new colors to leap through? Does it hold its place in time as it forms the base for future pieces to join?
Then we scrapple for a source--volcanic? phreatic? fissure? fault? earthquake? collapse? Did it cave in or spring out? As Connie said: "we can listen around us for clues to the cause." The rustling spring carries us to a plausible steaming answer. The basaltic scraps glue together to form a magnetic picture, and the ruins of age-old spaceships lead to our smiling, fuzzy, green martians.
We can follow the lines in a fault, rewinding their journey with our eyes. The placement of a tephra treasure buries the truth in its dust.
     I gaze at the Bishop Tuff and imagine its intricate path--the smaller pieces on the bottom were dropped by an ash fall--the first to arrive in its nest. The larger pieces followed along--too heavy to be swept up by rapid winds. Yes-there is some underlying logic that can be studied and grasped.  Geologists observe and interpret, feel and speculate, and discover a brain hidden amongst the dizzy spell of nature. Just a taste of logic to which we can relate because the intention of the rock is the same intention of which we are a part.  Looking towards the mountains we can start to understand by noting the presence of an interbedded instruction.  Yes there really is a recipe and algorithm to basins and ranges. Stretching--raising--eroding---sinking ---I can follow the pattern! But are nature's conundrums reducible to mathematical formulas? Is this hinted order completely solvable? If we claim to hold the answer than are we really appreciating the mystery? Yes, I study and scrapulate all the nooks and crannies and sort through different interpretations to settle on---a most probable cause that most likely is......
--sigh --
I breathe and let go my attempts to know more than it, resting in a moment of awe.

This wise old rock can teach me if I admit its greatness and seek comfort by knowing that it knows ...even if I never will.

bits of bits of old journals

I'd rather be in the center of myself
the center of all others' eyes.

Sometimes I forget
the external world
has little to do
with the divine.


is life only meaningful when shared?
is my time alone of less value?
are my great (but quiet) ideas
less great
when kept to myself?
Are my questions still questions
if never asked
and never answered?


Sherry Turkle:
"Loneliness is failed solitude.
To experience solitude you must be able to summon yourself by yourself;
otherwise you will only know how to be lonely."

"We may want to live less thickly
and wait for more infrequent but meaningful face to face encounters."

Friday, October 30, 2015

Friday, October 23, 2015

Tuesday, July 28, 2015

a letter to home

to you,
dear home,

I have layered within you
years and years
of soil filled seeds
sunflowers stretching
into the sky.
I have sung my sorrow
into your spacious breadth.

Your tall tall ceilings
into which my voice could fly.

I have whispered all my dreams to you
and you in turn, wove my dreams into quilts.

Laid me down.
Watched me rest.

I have cried into you---through you---
filled you with my salty tears
and you drank my grief up,
held me
as I am.

It was you that listened.


You, dear home, are so beautiful and spacious,
I was able to bring the outside--in.
My shelter became a safe place
for others to seek comfort in.

Friends, guests, travelers, neighbors
ate your garden fruit,
slept on your sunken couch,
made giddy by your sunflowers,
drank tea on your sun-stained porch.

I came to you scared.

-the most alone-.

afraid to eat
afraid to play music
afraid to sing
afraid to share
afraid to love

And in your living room you gave the most precious gift of all----
a monthly salon
for years and years
you held space for us to share,
listen, dance, sing….speak.

I learned to play from my heart
and be supported by a community--
friends that I too would support
by creating space
for them to express.

And the people who have lived within you
long-stayed or short-passed through
have become my family

for life.

dear home,
you have given me too much.

As I travel onward
I will still be filled with you.


Wednesday, July 22, 2015

the past, in paper

well, I guess

my wish was made.

Saturday, June 13, 2015

I pour through myself. 

All my pain, wonders, joy, sadness, laughter---
moves from inner to outer
spiraling through me
and exploding out,
fire, streams, songs and silent whispers.

Here i am---
burning- - crying- -dancing 

will you stay long enough to see?

Thursday, June 4, 2015

Sunday, May 31, 2015

Wednesday, April 22, 2015

while we are together

a piece
for 10 voices in a tunnel
from may 2012

Tuesday, April 14, 2015

locked outside (lyrics)

i stayed hidden
by your restless eye
that looked around and around
but never right through

so I left my body
right there
by your side
for you to hold 
but not know

for me to give
but not show

and when I returned
I found the time we could have shared

had passed
had passed

us by.

you were waiting.

you were waiting.

you were waiting

but I was locked outside.

You had said
don't feel too much

you had said don't fall too hard

let's merge our bodies
but keep our hearts far apart

so I shut my eyes 
so I couldn't see
anything of you
pouring into me

and I left my body
so I couldn't feel
you there
or gone

you there or gone

you were waiting

you were waiting

for me to arrive

but I was locked outside

*copyright 2015

Wednesday, April 1, 2015

bless you too (lyrics)

the beauty of our dreaming
is never meant for keeping
we pass the moment sweeping
through the silent breeze.

and while we are together
we'll hold eachother sweetly
but if you stay in my arms
we'll wither away dry.

We saw her through the window sitting still, sitting still
with no breath left within her
her god's will, her god's will

She blessed me in the morning
and greeted me through nighttime
I'm thankful for the way she told me
you take care my girl.

She's flown away----

now I'll bless you, dear Faye,

I'll bless you.

All that's left for knowing
is my own life as precious

She's flown away
as I will too

I'll see you soon

my Faye.

Sunday, March 15, 2015

Wednesday, March 11, 2015

Sunday, March 1, 2015

Saturday, February 28, 2015

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