a thing for trees
a thing for trees

I have a thing

a thing for bees

I have a thing

a thing for trees

recycling ain’t shit

straws, just barely the tip

the oceans, this planet

needs

for you to give a fuck

please

for the bees

for the trees

for the seas

for my niece

please

earthly

niceties

🌬✨

gatekeepers
gatekeepers

gatekeepers.

I had a name but they took it from me.

promised to exchange it

when I crossed the Sea,

touched the shore

returning for more.

All the while,

the name

as my soul

changed

shedding skin

needing

name

never

more

to plant a forest
to plant a forest

their secret world;

in this moment

where

they agreed.

whole

heartedly

to plant a forest

where the scars

marked the wounds.

bruises,

but just a memory.

now

lush

quickening

the Beauty
the Beauty

the Beautiful

Conversation

held down and given rise

as palm warms the hairs

frozen still, under hand

standing guard

across the forearm

on the other

side of the bridge

guarded still by stoic

replicas guarded still

staring down sundogs

flaring round rainbow tails

of dragons and shells;

orchestral sounds

where the Atlantic meets

Timucuan grounds

The Beautiful

Conversation

of listening

to words

with no sounds

as the hairs

dance unbound

closing down

the distance

across Mantanzas Sound

to see clearly

the ghost

taking form

as the tide recedes

into her storm.

camino de toscino
camino de toscino

sews a scallop shell

into my lapel

at 4:12

in the morning

as Autumn,

(oh Fall,

the gravity of it all)

as Autumn

murmurers...

Fisterra

Camino

Fisterra

Camino

Santiago.

.

.

where the other half

awaits

the other half

making complete

the whole

like two cupped hands

shells on the sand

a vessel

discrete

approaching

complete

.

.

.

.

.

.

or something like that

flare
flare

walking out the crinkles

from the bandage

over the welded stitches

that were not meant to dissolve

but they insisted

pulling at the seams

would build trust

drowning in the ditches

drowning in flaming rust



19.06.10


Why did I do it?
Why did I do it?

why did i do it?

I did it for Love*

Falling in

Tumblin’ down

Falling out

chin on the ground

Look at me now.

Looking out

climbing the backside

of this crest

summiting across breast

stroking the stream

hydrating an old romantic

dream

I had

once.

But once.

was

enough to fill this

chalice of limestone

for a minute

while I learned

to dance again

in it.

now

my my my feet

tap slash slog

from nightfall

til morning fog

through the dew

matte memories

stand

few

now

knew

every thing

is new.

turquoise

Life

blue

salt

shining

hue

out of gas
out of gas

eight pm

ran out of gas

greeted the sun by the ghost on the shore

stuck

around some more

cleaned the shore

gleaned some more

raced home to open house for tour

gleaned some more

meet a few other open doors

grabbed this moon

swoonin soon

swoonin pink

on hue

on blue

but ran out of gas

busted ass

fell flat

dulled

matte

Husk
Husk

the Dude loves his mirror

damn near as much

as I adore

the number of petals

converging like husk

coveting and doting

seeds sun flowers

before the sprout

before the shoot

calling for the sun

leaning into water

soaking every moment

star struck at the silence

leaning into the sun

stuck on the silence

between bees

green pharma
green pharma

b...

there’s a rhythm to a good hike

a slapping, a flapping

of the wings of the forest

the pulse constricting

the pause and the ponder

the deeper the wander

the more bound the grip

until that shift in light

that lift of wind

easing in an open door

out of the forest

and onto the open sky floor

that architecture

of nature

selling dope

forever

amore



19.06.06.

Black Crest Trail, NC 

Memorial Day Eve 2019

approaching the 37th hour backpacking backcountry   


the green room
the green room

the green room

no more wasting time

in the waiting line

soaking

in the green room

of this wasted mind

saturated

and fat

from wearing someone else’s hat

into the green room

7 days flat

dropped the bag

dropped the act

deep in the woods

to find where it’s at

line of sight
line of sight

in the air

above it all

used to the fall

from climbing

so high

so fly

so tall

above it all.

it takes the grey

aloofness of solitude

head in the cloud

dew on the brow

in-between what is rain

and lightning

to fully appreciate the silence

of the view

of the breath

awaiting you

just around the bend

across the top of ridge

that once was ocean floor


outermost edge
outermost edge

 

it takes the grey

aloofness of solitude

head in the cloud

dew on the brow

in-between what is rain

and lightning

to fully appreciate the silence

of the view

of the breath

awaiting you

just around the bend

across the top of ridge

that once was ocean floor

be still
be still

silence of the clouds

Blue
Blue

to know the tender softening curves of the underbelly and dimples of the clouds of blue ridge,

of this most ancient mystic ridge ...

is nectar

is molasses

is sorghum

and blossom

a thing for trees
gatekeepers
to plant a forest
the Beauty
camino de toscino
flare
Why did I do it?
out of gas
Husk
green pharma
the green room
line of sight
outermost edge
be still
Blue
a thing for trees

I have a thing

a thing for bees

I have a thing

a thing for trees

recycling ain’t shit

straws, just barely the tip

the oceans, this planet

needs

for you to give a fuck

please

for the bees

for the trees

for the seas

for my niece

please

earthly

niceties

🌬✨

gatekeepers

gatekeepers.

I had a name but they took it from me.

promised to exchange it

when I crossed the Sea,

touched the shore

returning for more.

All the while,

the name

as my soul

changed

shedding skin

needing

name

never

more

to plant a forest

their secret world;

in this moment

where

they agreed.

whole

heartedly

to plant a forest

where the scars

marked the wounds.

bruises,

but just a memory.

now

lush

quickening

the Beauty

the Beautiful

Conversation

held down and given rise

as palm warms the hairs

frozen still, under hand

standing guard

across the forearm

on the other

side of the bridge

guarded still by stoic

replicas guarded still

staring down sundogs

flaring round rainbow tails

of dragons and shells;

orchestral sounds

where the Atlantic meets

Timucuan grounds

The Beautiful

Conversation

of listening

to words

with no sounds

as the hairs

dance unbound

closing down

the distance

across Mantanzas Sound

to see clearly

the ghost

taking form

as the tide recedes

into her storm.

camino de toscino

sews a scallop shell

into my lapel

at 4:12

in the morning

as Autumn,

(oh Fall,

the gravity of it all)

as Autumn

murmurers...

Fisterra

Camino

Fisterra

Camino

Santiago.

.

.

where the other half

awaits

the other half

making complete

the whole

like two cupped hands

shells on the sand

a vessel

discrete

approaching

complete

.

.

.

.

.

.

or something like that

flare

walking out the crinkles

from the bandage

over the welded stitches

that were not meant to dissolve

but they insisted

pulling at the seams

would build trust

drowning in the ditches

drowning in flaming rust



19.06.10


Why did I do it?

why did i do it?

I did it for Love*

Falling in

Tumblin’ down

Falling out

chin on the ground

Look at me now.

Looking out

climbing the backside

of this crest

summiting across breast

stroking the stream

hydrating an old romantic

dream

I had

once.

But once.

was

enough to fill this

chalice of limestone

for a minute

while I learned

to dance again

in it.

now

my my my feet

tap slash slog

from nightfall

til morning fog

through the dew

matte memories

stand

few

now

knew

every thing

is new.

turquoise

Life

blue

salt

shining

hue

out of gas

eight pm

ran out of gas

greeted the sun by the ghost on the shore

stuck

around some more

cleaned the shore

gleaned some more

raced home to open house for tour

gleaned some more

meet a few other open doors

grabbed this moon

swoonin soon

swoonin pink

on hue

on blue

but ran out of gas

busted ass

fell flat

dulled

matte

Husk

the Dude loves his mirror

damn near as much

as I adore

the number of petals

converging like husk

coveting and doting

seeds sun flowers

before the sprout

before the shoot

calling for the sun

leaning into water

soaking every moment

star struck at the silence

leaning into the sun

stuck on the silence

between bees

green pharma

b...

there’s a rhythm to a good hike

a slapping, a flapping

of the wings of the forest

the pulse constricting

the pause and the ponder

the deeper the wander

the more bound the grip

until that shift in light

that lift of wind

easing in an open door

out of the forest

and onto the open sky floor

that architecture

of nature

selling dope

forever

amore



19.06.06.

Black Crest Trail, NC 

Memorial Day Eve 2019

approaching the 37th hour backpacking backcountry   


the green room

the green room

no more wasting time

in the waiting line

soaking

in the green room

of this wasted mind

saturated

and fat

from wearing someone else’s hat

into the green room

7 days flat

dropped the bag

dropped the act

deep in the woods

to find where it’s at

line of sight

in the air

above it all

used to the fall

from climbing

so high

so fly

so tall

above it all.

it takes the grey

aloofness of solitude

head in the cloud

dew on the brow

in-between what is rain

and lightning

to fully appreciate the silence

of the view

of the breath

awaiting you

just around the bend

across the top of ridge

that once was ocean floor


outermost edge

 

it takes the grey

aloofness of solitude

head in the cloud

dew on the brow

in-between what is rain

and lightning

to fully appreciate the silence

of the view

of the breath

awaiting you

just around the bend

across the top of ridge

that once was ocean floor

be still

silence of the clouds

Blue

to know the tender softening curves of the underbelly and dimples of the clouds of blue ridge,

of this most ancient mystic ridge ...

is nectar

is molasses

is sorghum

and blossom

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