Self Criticism

I have been spending a lot of time recently attempting to deconstruct some of my own positions in the hopes of coming to some stronger conclusions about things that have bothered me over the last few months. Some of this has been public, a lot to do with my own fondness for primitive societies, how... Continue Reading →

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Empty Ideals

I have often thought when walking along the old river Of the ancient peoples that once called it home And have admired their lives as one of the more beautiful faces of humanity Living as they did with the rhythms of this beating heart of a world Before a wound was cut into the soul... Continue Reading →

Death Drive

The glittering sun dancing on a swiftly moving river of frantic metal  Untold thousands of careening machines piloted by frantic dreams Dreams, the magic that moves the skittering mass toward oblivion The ghostly hands that guide the death march of the species In the distance the azure hills give way to the ancient snow covered... Continue Reading →

Mind

The mind of man is a dangerous gift Like a blade in the hands of a child Turned outward it opens us to the glory of the cosmos To behold the great and unfathomable splendor of things Turned inward, toward humanity, it leads only to ruin Left to wander hopelessly among the mirages of our... Continue Reading →

Seekers After Peace

You seekers after peace Your feverish ventures to escape the world Alas, you will not find another world but this one And if it is peace you seek you will have to find it here Bring your strength to stand before the sublime To see the deep shining in the beauty and ugliness of the... Continue Reading →

The Stone Collectors

Walking in the dappled light falling through the canopies along a bend of the old river A short trail gives way to a rocky shore The rattling of pebbles over the river current announces a presence There are two women here Walking slowly among the river rock Bending now and then to pick certain stones... Continue Reading →

Spark

All things enter the world fated to die This ancient river before me will join the clouds when its time here is done And leave its bones on the old landscape  Humanity cannot escape its destiny It is bound to the movements of the universe We will be as the floating embers spit up by... Continue Reading →

Hunting Hawks

Afternoon, watching the hawks draw circles over the old cottonwoods Watching the haunting silhouette of those black sails in slow lurking spirals against the pale blue The watchfulness of the fierce golden eyes I thought of the blood sacrifices of the little lives of the understory  To feed the hungry God And the vast body... Continue Reading →

What is it good for?

What is the writing good for?  As much to sing praise as to save myself, I suppose Scribbling in the face of the glory To catch a sliver of the splendor of things for a brief moment And let the light of the world into the abyss of myself There is "a kind of salvation"... Continue Reading →

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