trapped between the wind and the sun
i find myself at odds with my environment
dreaming of the past/never noticing the sunset

late night/full moon/silver-sewn clouds
past box canyon west
to los batiquitos
how quickly things change
when you pause for breath
this afternoon from the hills of Cardiff
i felt myself falling
content with my lack of direction
looking for the edge of the world
(between the wind and the sun)
(i've found a back road home)

we are at the top of the season
perfect blue opaque sunstream
months pass with no change
a million miles from the last time i took notice

straining so hard against gravity
windows down to find
perfection in form/passing monuments
allowed to rust, corrode and fade
the freeway vs. the water
what is presented and what is never spoken
how easy things seem from a different viewpoint

crossing over san dieguito river
remembering stella
and the pictures of places i've never know
valley after valley/rivers and lagoons
river mouth meets the ocean
as the pacific opens its arms
(never knowing anything else)

(trapped)
i find myself hiding from the sun
embracing the wind
waiting for change and hating it
when it arrives

for chris harrison

childs toy for the endangered
dust settles beyond layer of layer
no harm caused by the idea
(i have left while my body lingers)
watching with blinders of cloud masking trees
missing the halo of moonlight
slow pace to (ascend) once more
overlook - glowing streetlights
marking time
masking the edge/what lies beneath
falling to slow
the road offers inadequacies
deafening roar slowly dissipates
clocks mark the shift from late to early
after trying so hard
i find wishing against
is the only chance for sleep

for gerry hemingway, wadada leo smith, anthony davis and lisle ellis

(sunday)

(sunday)
running lines of mercury
bonfires left burning thru the night
thirty years culminated in one second

dark brown hues of sound/eyes closed with patience
burnt embers shooting in all directions
time/flow liquid strands
deep heavy bottom earth and years spent alone
thoughts of past times and new directions

question-
what does time do to friendship?

camp is set
the children are asleep
my body will rest while my mind wanders
till sunrise
knowing everything changes with the light

transition from desert to woods
fog and tiny crystals of rain

(monday)
speaking with a new voice
last glimmer of daylight falling

cardboard cutout concrete jungle
of seasons left waiting
sculpted for the next possible moment
leaving (most) things unsaid unspoken
working harder moving faster
as darkness approaches
uncertainty given no option