I could tell it was done,
The leaves dry and brittle.
The trunk was still brown, but faded,
wrinkled.

We used to sit and just
look up at the sky
The blues and whites
Shining through that cracks
in the canopy, of that tree.
I wonder when you knew
if wouldn't last
One year? Two?
I guess it doesn't matter if you knew,
I know you had your doubts

We would sit under that tree,
my bony shoulder somehow
the perfect pillow, and laugh,
and smile,
and grab the sky.

Does the tree miss us? Togethor, I mean.
I hope someone does.

I'm sitting here now,
looking at the nook you always hid in,
your curves matching the trunk's perfectly.
I'm looking up at our piece of the sky now,
I reach out to grab it, but it always alludes me,
Like so many so many silly wishes.

This hill spoke to me
Even when I didn't know it existed.
It found me at the best time.

Sometimes, I get lost.
Find a place in my own backyard
that did not exist before.
That's where this spot found me.
On a summer afternoon, just around dusk,
me, with my work work jeans on, and grease stains to cover the sweat stains
that percolated up through that bright tiki shirt.

I picked her up, it was about a quarter till nine...
We hadn't spoken in days, but she didn't seem to mind.
I drove the nissan through the back roads, towards no where
When I rolled up that hill, I just had to stop.

"This is it." I said "What is?" she asked.
"This is the spot. My place of business."

I slammed to car door and jumped on the hood.
It was perfect.
I have always longed for this,
this complete oneness with the real world.
Like if a coyote howled in the distance,
I wouldn't automatically sense danger.
This place, where I melt into the engine and watch
as the sun goes to sleep, and the farmland
is retaken by its natural, bestial presence.

She sat on the hood next to me and shrugged.
Time stopped. We stayed for hours.

Coffee, atmosphere, and passports

I applied for a U.S. passport today, meaning in 4-6 weeks I will be able to leave the country... And since it's the middle of April that puts me behind schedule... It's weird, after all the confirmation letters, and acceptance papers, I didn't feel like I was really going, But as soon as I left the post office today, I felt like I was actually going...

I think life is about all the little things... A good cup of coffee at 7:30 when you are hungover and the small lightbulb in your kitchen feels brighter than the sun... A good burger. Which reminds me, I really want to go to Bruff's today, to "celebrate". Maybe I'm just animalistic, but I feel much better about things in my life when I have good food and drinks around me... Okay, and good friends. Do animals have friends? Anyway, nothing beats reading or listening to a good one liner. So, with that said, I give you the best part of your day...

"We all take number one in the race because we all keep running in place."

The sound of silence makes your skin turn to brail
and time tells you nothing,
'cept when to die and when your tired

I think I met a fortune teller
who could vex your fate and faith
till you get the point of this post

He told me to sing
and so I tried
but it came out wrong
at least to him
Because he turned me away
and told me my future

he said I'll die, and that was it
and I know for a fact
that he was right

Create your fate
watch it fall down
the endless crevice that
fills your less than endless mind
it sets up camp,
settles in for the long haul
you melt and shape your own way
read too much into it all

life on a pedestal
everything seems profound
"it's life and life only"
is what I have found
take your purpose, your hunger, you drive to survive
take your meaning, your optimism, your unending prayer
take them and throw them out,
like day old food
they have no purpose, meaning, hunger, optimism, or will to survive
your prayer go unanswered
except by you

if you must having a meaning, if you find not other way
then find purpose in living in the day to day

Thoughts are like prayers
with a purpose:
Can I change the world?
Can I even change myself?
Is there some cause to my anger,
my confusion, my embarrassment?
Like seeing eye to eye with the guy who
just finished using the public bathroom

publish or perish
publish or perish
publish to perish
lose it, forever
lose yours to gain theirs

write, speak, sing, cry
realize your limit
beat it to death
till it gives way,
gives up.

or you do

The pavement gives a knowing glance
You couldn't kick up dust if you tried
Paradise gets smaller every step of the way

But you go here
to this place
this decaying mass of people on people on people on shit.

You go here and you think you found the backbone, the foundation
but you find out that the foundation if cracked and shifted
and coerced into a rotting carcass that is slowly eating itself

So you can't win this time, so what?
won't there be other battles? other battlegrounds?
So you move on, to the next town, the next battle

New place, same story.
It's eating itself, they all are.
and the only thing that can stop it is you

you, and your friend, and his girlfriend
you stop it, slowly, slowly.
you stop it by caring and thinking and NOT doing

So maybe it's too late for this place
Maybe the well's dried up
But sometime, somewhere...

Hope is just a trigger-pull away.