Sunday, November 24, 2013

The Sun or Deer

The abstract becomes terrible, 
especially when unable to taste salts in the ocean
full gone toward a notion and grasping hope having become 
tuneful and fearful at last,
the other as a shared notion is
stacked and multiplied, clipped and untoward as humans can be
toward another whose face, 
like mine,
quests for a opening, bright door.

In meeting and recognition of smiles,
we shore up faith, 
images to be fulfilled and walk on and on and outward
toward the sparkling and unhinged night-
our world is not for the night, but rather the day when 
the exchange is open
and, in meeting and rejection of expressions, 
entropy within an inherently emotive system
enthrones the fastest, remorseless runners.

Up from the earth and outward n tight circles
dogwood, lilacs, and willows wait
dormant and smooth, perpendicular to the mother
and with sweet juices reserved, tuneful and without fear, 
they wait for the sun or the deer
mindful of nothing but a state of faithless eminence
in truth, we are all immobile
and as abstract as they,
though free to pretend toward something else 
that will be destroyed.

Friday, November 22, 2013

Tall Paul

In my little brother's words, from a post he put onto the BookyFace the situation my dear old dad's dealing with:

On November 8th, my dad was almost killed. I'm not trying to be dramatic or crass. I'm stating a fact that my dad, for all intents and purposes, could be dead right now. But he is not. Instead, he continues to be an example to me of hard work in the face of adversity. He has a shattered pelvis. A broken femur. 7 broken ribs. A broken sternum. A collapsed lung. He tore a hole in the sac surrounding his heart. He was knocked unconscious. His left knee won't move. But here he is, 13 days later, enduring pain, smiling in a picture for me. Glad you're still with me, dad. And I want to say "thank you" to everyone for their thoughts and prayers during the past two weeks. Believe me; they were felt and appreciated. Miracles happen and prayers are answered.

So there you go. They're down in Phoenix and I'm here doing my thing with my small-town BurningNation, trying to keep the ship afloat. I sure appreciate those two men and what they do for their families. I wouldn't be doing what I do without them.

Thursday, November 21, 2013

All That Remains

The season's period of reflection and sleep is becoming active, or should I say, dormant. Many deaths and near misses coming to my awareness these days, touching my heart. That's the way the cold months are, much of the time; I reckon some day when we come back to a full realization of how connected we are to environment and the greater cosmos, we'll understand how important light and warmth and hope are to the human condition, not just as commodities and products to sell and trade.
How will we ever make it through this flux and ebb, this uncertainty and imminent death of front lawns and hibernation of porches? Eventually, we won't, that's the eminent truth of it, but my immediate hope is to make sense enough of the situation as it is that I can learn from what's going on enough to incorporate the lessons into our family's ethos and mythos...

Sunday, November 17, 2013

Another Dragon- A Poem for EvenSong and the Full Moon

 I
A neglected god, autonomy chimes like a grandfather clock,
needing constant attention and, at least, another timepiece
by which to set it-
while on that cold, still morning, just down the stairs and accompanied
by the smell of black coffee and
a warmed woolen rug kicked over the heat vent,
a deep thrum of six strokes resonates deep behind  
my sternum, a reassuring pat of the hand.

II
Another and often marauding, silvery dragon,
wandering uphill and yet afoot,
seems at this hour to be half-asleep and forgotten
while we, at breakfast,
talk of what we hope to know,
where we want to become,  and why this is all quite good;
but our deeper thoughts, just beyond?
Upon the snows of tomorrow
and the expectant hopes of November and December,
even with plain expressions of current tragedy
and the blurred face of an unsure  cold new year ahead.

III
Again, the clock strikes the half hour away in the living room.
This occasion will soon be past;
work or school,
the solving and procrastinating of problems
manufactured to take the place of sovereignty and the morning
and to steal the chime of that clock,
but never forget the pat of that hand
or that shimmering dragon as he awakens and finally takes wing,
breathing a terrible fire
and eventually,
burning both that clock and that hand.


Saturday, November 16, 2013

The Stove's In (Finally!)



Jesse finished the install of the stove we put together last year but didn't get 'round to until this summer. Not much time for that type of thing this year, but the kids squeaked this one out just in time for the new winter's  reign.
The stove burned hot, by the way. It should be a good way to keep things warm up there; better than that old crummy fireplace, at least.



Sunday, November 10, 2013

Autumnal Strawberries and Roses


Not very much growing now, but here and there, things show color and
progress toward the next generation. We've been looking for some new ideas and methods for the next season.
Mostly, we need to work on microclimates and plant progression, but as we think about how to make it work, this year is making me think about what might be possible for us in extending seasons and livability...

Family Fun and Things That Happen Despite Our Objections

Halloween, cutting dead out of the sick tree, a landmark destroyed in the face of progress and civilization, and wind in the yellow g...