Safety 

His soul hides

Deep within old leather covers 

Safe upon the shelf 

Sometimes pulled down 

Blowing dust free 

Forgotten poems read 

In the fading light 

Of dusk 

Lessons I Learned About Deserts This Winter

Seattle’s winter taught me something new: deserts hate me. In the deepest cold of February, as the upper left coast shivered in a frigid, deeply embrace, my skin burned. Cracking, peeling, bleeding, the lack of moisture in the air brutalized me. Far more painful that I remember.

Over the years I dreamt of journeys through the Southwest. Wandering the desert canyons, a soundtrack featuring R. Carlos Nakai, perhaps tied to a writer’s retreat, I explore the zen within the arid land. Tranquility filling my soul.

Now I fear my skin crumbling off my bones. Needing to bathe in moisturizer. Not the most pleasant imagery.

Perhaps my mind exaggerates. It often plays such tricks on me. The dream still lingers. No harm, I guess, in holding that. Maybe the tranquility compensates for the damaged skin.

Such randomness within in my mind.

Unfamiliar with R. Carlos Nakai’s music? His native flute music carries me deep within, speaking to my depths.

 

Haiku: April 3, 2019

In this daylight
Work flows from fingers
Will the rains clean the street?

Exploring Faith And Music

I love music that challenges me, pushes my understanding of what music, what it can convey. So I look forward to exploring this playlist. Let me know what you think.

 

 

The Paradigm of Rage

I reject the paradigm of rage 

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p style=”font-family:"”>Replacing that with kindness 

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p style=”font-family:"”>Seeking all the world’s beauty 

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p style=”font-family:"”>Then magnify it all 

Deserts Hate Me: A Tale Of Un-Tough Skin

Seattle’s winter taught me something new: deserts hate me. In the deepest cold of February, as the upper left coast shivered in a frigid, deeply embrace, my skin burned. Cracking, peeling, bleeding, the lack of moisture in the air brutalized me. Far more painful that I remember.

Over the years I dreamt of journeys through the Southwest. Wandering the desert canyons, a soundtrack featuring R. Carlos Nakai, perhaps tied to a writer’s retreat, I explore the zen within the arid land. Tranquility filling my soul.

Now I fear my skin crumbling off my bones. Needing to bathe in moisturizer. Not the most pleasant imagery.

Perhaps my mind exaggerates. It often plays such tricks on me. The dream still lingers. No harm, I guess, in holding that. Maybe the tranquility compensates for the damaged skin.

Such randomness within in my mind.

Unfamiliar with R. Carlos Nakai’s music? His native flute music carries me deep within, speaking to my depths.

 

Today’s Haiku: April 2, 2019

It isn’t a dream
There is joy all around us
Picturing flowers

Cherry Blossoms at UW

These cherry blossoms

Thousands of people descend

Seattle’s springtime

Walking in Suburbia

Walking in sunshine

Just below these powerlines

Life in the suburbs