If this is it.

as always I think of you

"A hand cupped the heel of a woman who wished to climb a tree to see the stars more clearly. The men laughed into their tumblers. They all went swimming again with just the modesty of the night. An arm touched a face. A foot touched a stomach. They could have almost drowned or fallen in love and their lives would have been totally changed during any one of those evenings."

--Michael Ondaatje, Running in the Family

Go It!

FLOW IT...
KNOW IT...
GROW IT...
SHOW IT...
POET.

BLOW IT?

One Sky

Eye,


can feel.


You,


from here.


;)

QUALITY (as inspired by QUANTITY)

"DUDE is a simple laid back lager. Light, crisp and wicked tasty. A beer worthy of its name. Inspired by the regular dude, who seeks simplicity and appreciates good beer in a can."
Made by Union Dudes in Prince George, BC. Pacific Western Brewing Company


"Duuuuuude",

Yes, t'is true. It's like pop-eye's spinach! It's Homer's DUFF! No real dude can resist its charm, nor do himself any harm. Ladies love it, they can't be rude to no dude, man. Eyes are a-sparkle when a dude whips out his six'er. One dude is just as powerful as fifteen of 'em. DUDES can only be consumed with deep-impacting music....DUDE-tunes. A dude can only pull out his portable talkin' device if he refers to it as his very own "DUDEberry". A dude in the west ain't the best, at least compared to a dude in the east. We're everywhere, we're spreadin' like a DUDE waterfall, misty-eyed sailors with one thing on their minds....just....bein'....DUDES. You know who you are by that grin on your face. You ain't need a mirror, just look at another dude, look how happy he is being one! Lonely? There's always dudes hangin' out down on the co'ner store. But remember, there's nothin' more respectful than a SOLO DUDE. Props biatch! Party on with DUDEisms and your dude-food, inspire your lovers, your fellow dudes will help. DUDE! Could it be? Bein' a dude don't have to be a mystery?

So, DUDES and DUDETTES alike......
There's always time to pick up a dude. I'm uplifted as I speak!

Go out and get a DUDEucation, Go out and dude someone,
One Smooth Dude.

Neil Young told me to tell you this:

I remember
the good old days,
Stayed up all night
gettin' crazed.
Then the money
was not so good,
But we still did
the best we could.

Oh baby,
that's hard to change
I can't tell them
how to feel.
Some get stoned,
some get strange,
But sooner or later
it all gets real.

Walk on, walk on,
Walk on, walk on.


And this is how it sounds to me:

forward iN REVERSE

It's a bird! No, it's a plane!
No, it's my morning glory,
It's all our saving grace,
It's all in its right place.
Dig it all down from atop a mountain crown,
Laugh-smile-frown,
Reverse.

I don't want to think on it more
Or else wonder what it's all for.
Just be, just see.
Feel caged, or feel free.
It all matters much in the end,
Like gaining and losing a friend,
and the reverse.

Want it all heard,
Want to keep it in.

Maybe it is a bird, but it flies on a plain.
I want to fly, but I want to gain.
Should I want both?
Can I obtain the most?
It's evolution more than revolution,
but in reverse.

Always need to talk it off.
Always seem to walk it off.
Why can't I feel to rock it off?!
Just let it go like a dozen balloons.
And watch it all come round again.
Desire what is required,
and the reverse.

there is no end of things in the heart.

Zeb's treasure to me is a treasure to all the world.



Exile's Letter
By Ezra Pound


SO-KIN of Rakuho, ancient friend, I now remember
That you built me a special tavern,
By the south side of the bridge at Ten-Shin.
With yellow gold and white jewels
we paid for the songs and laughter,
And we were drunk for month after month,
forgetting the kings and princes.
Intelligent men came drifting in, from the sea
and from the west border,
And with them, and with you especially,
there was nothing at cross-purpose;
And they made nothing of sea-crossing
or of mountain-crossing,
If only they could be of that fellowship.
And we all spoke out our hearts and minds …
and without regret.
And then I was sent off to South Wei,
smothered in laurel groves,
And you to the north of Raku-hoku,
Till we had nothing but thoughts and memories between us.
And when separation had come to its worst
We met, and travelled together into Sen-Go
Through all the thirty-six folds of the turning and twisting waters;
Into a valley of a thousand bright flowers …
that was the first valley,
And on into ten thousand valleys
full of voices and pine-winds.
With silver harness and reins of gold,
prostrating themselves on the ground,
Out came the East-of-Kan foreman and his company;
And there came also the “True-man” of Shi-yo to meet me,
Playing on a jewelled mouth-organ.
In the storied houses of San-Ko they gave us
more Sennin music;
Many instruments, like the sound of young phœnix broods.
And the foreman of Kan-Chu, drunk,
Danced because his long sleeves
Wouldn’t keep still, with that music playing.
And I, wrapped in brocade, went to sleep with my head on his lap,
And my spirit so high that it was all over the heavens.

And before the end of the day we were scattered like stars or rain.
I had to be off to So, far away over the waters,
You back to your river-bridge.
And your father, who was brave as a leopard,
Was governor in Hei Shu and put down the barbarian rabble.
And one May he had you send for me, despite the long distance;
And what with broken wheels and so on, I won’t say it wasn’t hard going -
Over roads twisted like sheep’s guts.
And I was still going, late in the year,
in the cutting wind from the north,
And thinking how little you cared for the cost -
and you caring enough to pay it.
Then what a reception!
Red jade cups, food well set, on a blue jewelled table;
And I was drunk, and had no thought of returning;
And you would walk out with me to the western corner of the castle,
To the dynastic temple, with the water about it clear as blue jade,
With boats floating, and the sound of mouth-organs and drums,
With ripples like dragon-scales going grass-green on the water,
Pleasure lasting, with courtezans going and coming without hindrance,
With the willow-flakes falling like snow,
And the vermilioned girls getting drunk about sunset,
And the waters a hundred feet deep reflecting green eyebrows—
Eyebrows painted green are a fine sight in young moonlight,
Gracefully painted—and the girls singing back at each other,
Dancing in transparent brocade,
And the wind lifting the song, and interrupting it,
Tossing it up under the clouds.

And all this comes to an end,
And is not again to be met with.
I went up to the court for examination,
Tried Layu’s luck, offered the Choyu song,
And got no promotion,
And went back to the East Mountains white-headed.

And once again we met, later, at the South Bridge head.
And then the crowd broke up—you went north to San palace.
And if you ask how I regret that parting?
It is like the flowers falling at spring’s end,
confused, whirled in a tangle.
What is the use of talking! And there is no end of talking-
There is no end of things in the heart.

I call in the boy,
Have him sit on his knees to write and seal this,
And I send it a thousand miles, thinking.

for days when your heart may warm at hearing my voice from a faraway place

Dear cigarettes, 

You are small and white and you burn my throat. I don't love you anymore, but I'm staying with you. 

You never lied to me; it says right on the pack, "Cigarettes are a heartbreaker."

When he's there, talking about quiting because she's a non-smoker, I am a smoker. 

I'm a smoker because she's not and because you're here. 

I'm the yellow fingers and the ashtray lips and I can always put you in my mouth. 

I'm the raisin-smell of a new pack and I'm wrinkled foil with one stick bouncing around. 

I think maybe once I was inhaled and exhaled again, and if I were you, I'd be between his fingers and pressed to his lips.

But, he's decided to quit, and he's leaving you at home and trying not to think about you. She is chewing gum, she is celery, she is tiny sips of cold water. She is his tapping fingers, she is respite, she is anything but that. She is taste and she is smell and she is deep, easy breaths. 

Still, I'll keep you around. We'll stay together for the spite, together long after he's gone. I'll light you, I'll light you up, and we'll make our own smoke. 

i'm nothing if not a tambourine

Studies show that the brain of a child in deep play scans in the same way as an adult who is concentrating creatively (i.e. painting a picture, writing a poem, etc.). 

When I heard this, I was wondering, would you ever stop a child from playing? Would you let a child go years without playing? And after that child has stopped the game and is coming in for supper, would you play back a video of the child playing and point out its strengths and weaknesses?