book and coffee cup

dusty on a window sill

stillness of Autumn

hovers in mid air.

rainy day dark

but welcomed

leaky skylight leaves puddles

on the pebbled floor.

pots stacked quietly

leaning columns

an endless city.

seeds all stored in

“Scoop Away Clean” and

“Tidy Cat” buckets with

tight fitting lids.

old wine bottles and

colored glass vases

silently sing in the corner.

scissors and wire and trows

all dutifully rest along the

patchy counter top.

and a baby’s straw bonnet

dangles by a thread from

a grapevine wreath-

Handmade.

Ready for winter.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Meet Me”

To you I’m nothing more than

one of the infinite specks of light

ordinarily gleaming down.

Stuffed in a mass of my kind

I could never be noticed

even though my light might

blare a different shade of blue.

Every now and then a pair of eyes

sift through me but soon

move on as millions

scream for attention.

They overpower my essence-

dim my shine.

If “soulshine is stronger than moonshine”

maybe I should swallow a cup of rain and let it

drip into a sea where you may swim

and maybe then, you’ll feel me.

I am here.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Homemade”

The day before I left

tears streamed down onto my

hands folding the last of your clothes.

I lost my breath.

I lost my appetite.

And there you remained, at work

until Noon.

Home for lunch and back out again.

Home late…

Homemade lemonade

in your glass.

Hot meal in your Homemade bowl.

Hot shower in your clean bathroom-

Lay down in my bed

I sob to sleep, our last night.

You’re tired from work

You fall to sleep, our last night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Out of Hiding”

Fetal Position-

curled and rocking and

begging for choices to make sense.

Vein bulging in the center of my forehead

strands of dark hair turn

silver over night

and others find the shower drain,

drowning my ankles.

Bare Matress-

sheets packed and still soiled

my cheeks are sensitive

to the rough fabric

as they scrape against it like

the trashing of a fussing

toddler.

It smelled like soft, curly hair and wool sweaters.
It smelled like blasting the Counting Crows live version of “Mr. Jones,” and singing together even louder.
It smelled like your skin, your mouth, and kissing you on
brown, velvety, Honda seats.

It smelled like my first time driving stick.
It smelled like my first drive up a bumpy road, just to make-out.

It smelled like English class and parallel assigned seats.

It smelled like the most philosophical conversations I’ve ever had. It smelled like questioning God.
It smelled like graveyards and theme parks and mountain goats.

It smelled like innocence and deceit.

It smelled like our hearts gouged out with steel fingers.
It smelled like decision.

It smelled like candy machine rings and unconditional love.

Then all I could smell was goodbye.

All I could smell were chaos and lies.

Since then,

I stand sun-baked

as apple cores on dashboards.

Shriveled in spirit-

frozen in time like a mummified monument.

Looking my worst,

stinking up the place.

Here’s the gist of it:  Where we live, there is a chunk in the Earth’s crust called the Marcellus Shale Formation.  It holds tons and tons of Natural Gas, but there is no way to retrieve the gas without severely harming the  environment.  The process used to get Natural Gas from such a thing as pure rock is called Hydraulic Fracturing.  This is accomplished by drilling down through the Earth’s layers and through the rock shattering it, then using hydro-power to separate the natural gas from the rock and water.   Sounds eco-friendly enough, I mean they’re using water to drill with right?  WRONG!  What’s happening is when that rock is shattered natural gas comes out, but so does everything else.  Part of “everything else” includes radioactive waste material!  If that radioactive waste is released, it will affect so much more than people understand.  This will affect all our ground water, the Finger Lakes, our state parks, the Finger Lakes National Forest, our vineyards, our agriculture, our gorges, our wildlife, our human-life, our colleges, our restaurants, our entire community and all those smaller ones surrounding.  Let’s take down an entire region just to suck every last drop of blood from the veins of Earth.  I am not a “hippy activist.”  I am a realist and this is our reality.

Maybe some of you wonder how all those elements of our area will be affected by hydro-fracking.  This is how:   When radioactive waste seeps into Cayuga Lake, it will kill the fish and all flora and fauna surrounding.   No more swimming in the lake, or boating, or fishing, or kayaking.  Might as well close all the camps and childhood enrichment programs.  And the Floating Classroom.  That lake water also feeds a major canal that distributes water to farms and town families for miles.  Bad water.  Poisonous water.  The affected ground water supplies our beautiful and infamous vineyards, no more picturesque Finger Lakes Wine Trail.  There goes a huge hit on our economy.  Cornell and all it’s research, the agricultural school, even the historic crew race way…poisoned.  All the restaurants and musical venues stationed around the lake…closed.   “Ithaca is Gorges” will be a dead phrase, as our gorges will be sizzling in radioactive waste.  Our Native American history, and remarkable geological history- gone.

Last but not least.  It is illegal in NY state to dispose of radioactive waste.  So?  So, we have to ship it across the country to states like Utah and Idaho, so it can be “disposed of.”  How do you dispose of radioactive waste?  There is no way to dispose of it.  All we do it spread it around and fill up man made deposits for the junk.  “Here Utah a killer of a gift  for you.  Love, NY. “  Pleasant thought huh?  So what I am getting at is that this drilling does not just affect us in NY, it affects people everywhere, the entire world.   Imagine the people it would affect just in this country if there were a spill on it’s journey out west?  Nothing good can come of this.  This is a result of a 5 year plan.  Fuel enough for the country, yeah, but not for very long.  Can’t we rise above this?  Can’t we just give in to nature instead of fighting her constantly.  The sad part is, we are all nature and some people refuse to believe it.  WE ARE NATURE!  The CEO of Exxon is nature.  Sam Walton was nature.  George W. Bush is nature.  We have derived from the earth whether you are religious, spiritual, or atheist.  Did we not start out only eating what the earth provided?  For centuries, we didn’t eat unless we grew our own food from the Earth, drank the ground and steam water, depended on the earth to provide us with warmth and shelter, by using trees, mud, and clay for shelter.  Animals and plants to make our clothing and even medicine.

Just because we can buy our clothes now and our food, and we never have to touch the soil beneath our feet, we still come from it.  We are all animals and we need our Earth, because realistically, nobody is moving to Mars in this lifetime, and there will be no Earth left to keep us alive if this destruction does NOT cease!

Do not drill here Gov. Patterson.

NO FRACKING WAY!

For further explanation here’s an interesting “tid-bit” to listen to.

On Point with Tom Ashbrook

Check it out:

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wild horse roundup captures 131 MT mustangs BILLINGS, Mont. — Federal officials say they will complete a wild horse roundup along the Montana-Wyoming border within the next few days. As of Monday night, Bureau of Land Management contractors had gathered 131 wild horses as part of the agency’s effort to reduce the size of the herd in the Pryor Mountain National Wild Horse Range. Critics say the roundup threatens to ruin the genetics of a herd descended from animals brought to North America by Spanish conquistadors. About 70 of the range’s 190 adult horses will be offered for adoption. The remainder will be released, with most mares receiving a fertility control injection. The captured horses are being held at BLM’s Britton Springs corrals north of Lovell, Wyo. The adoption is scheduled for Sept. 26.

http://blog.taragana.com/n/wild-horse-roundup-captures-131-mustangs-from-montana-range-162754/

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Does anyone understand that these animals are family oriented?  That these animals live with their birth mothers and generations of family lines until they die?  You cannot just grab a bunch of horses randomly from the herd and expect them to be okay!  You cannot take away THEIR sense of community, THEIR familiar connections and expect that they will just live on normally.  They are intelligent and intuitive animals, a force stronger than most humans to be reckoned with.   Better yet, they are taking these wild horses from the NATIONAL WILD HORSE RANGE!!!!  Then here comes the sickest part of all…these WILD beauties will then be OFFERED FOR ADOPTION??   Are you serious!?  Let’s BREAK all that is pure and wild.  Why?  Well some asshole probably wants to build a house on that part of the land and needs the sage brush to grow a little thicker to the right of his property.  Alright, that was slightly exaggerated, but symbolism is screaming, and a perfect analogy if you ask me.

…”Asshole” is to “Rich Fat Human” as “Jackass” is to “Mule”…

One last thing:  If the horses are lucky enough to be released into the wild, they first must be injected with an infertility drug…that WEARS OFF!  Do you understand what that means?  It means, the natural cycle of their reproduction is F****D UP!  It means instead of having foals in the spring or early summer where they can gain the strength and maturity to survive a winter in the mountains, they are having them in the fall.  Just in time for freezing temperatures without a proper adult coat and lack of food.  Lack of food for the foals because there is lack of food for the mothers trying to nurse them.  If a mare cannot ingest the proper nutrients to lactate proper milk, the foal has little chance for survival. You stupid, stupid westernized people.  You’ve f-ed up the whole population of every “Non-Super Power” nation, now you have to continue your rampage with helpless creatures that roam this land quiet and fearful.

Have another Big Mac, pop another zit.

I had a refreshing and rekindling conversation last night with my old Asheville friend, Justin Lee.  We spoke of The Avett Brothers and how gripping their lyrics are.  Justin expressed how they plainly say everything we all stutter and stumble through.   They lay it out simply and gracefully.   The crowd in a trace by the utter perfection in their entirety.

Three Cheers Guys.

I’ve shed the thoughts of fury and carelessness-

At times, so dense then

becoming tangible.

I now stand naked as November Maples.

Observe my bones, my structure-

The uncovered life that’s

always been there,

beneath quiet colors and

vibrant secrets.

to live without.

You intoxicate me with bad

jokes and good humor.

You dove deeper than any

living, single, soul-

cautiously into my turbid sea.

My soliloquies are silent.

Curiosity transposed to content.

Barefoot upon moonshine sand-

I run toward you

but wait patient and kind,

brave and true.

I’ve put the phantoms all to sleep,

no troubles left to linger deep.

Let’s walk along your hand in mine,

and take some steps backwards with time.

Birds transcending Autumns ending,

and now I learn to hunt

for You.

The one-

whom I’ve always known.

I remember my face turned red.

I remember staring at my feet.

And I’m on my way.

Brow to brow

nose to nose

former tangled love

still grows.

tempting wind

blowing in your ghost again.

A teasing trap

deceptive time

Your spirit’s months away from mine.

But months will pass

What if  I fail?

What if we never find avail?

I blew it once

just like the wind

knowing our shared soul within.

I have to see you

just once more

And beg you then to hold the door.

Just once more

you won’t regret

The force of my hurricane is met.

My mind is full

of pleasant grace

just one small hole

please take your place.

I’m now a cactus flower

nestled in Anasazi sand.

I’m now shale scintillating

beneath quiet currents.

I’m now the soft pollen

of wild Indigo.

You paint me yellow.

I’m pieces of a prayer flag speckling Everest.

A swallowtail wind swept in June.

Chairs on the porch of a hidden cottage.

Day lilies in full bloom.

You paint me yellow.

Like fingers of a flame in late night summer.

A patio pitcher of iced lemonade.

September Aspens like falling medallions.

Sky high sunflowers bowing all the same.

You paint me yellow.

The color of warmth and home.

The color of childhood mornings.

The color it feels to smile.

You paint me yellow.

Like pumpkin pie for breakfast.

The glow from an afternoon window.

Sunlight through translucent wings.

The Plietes sisters gossiping.

You paint me yellow.

“My New Book”

Lipstick on a thermos cup, lust and whiskey fill it up

and smoke blows from the chimney to the moon.

It’s much too cold in the Midwest – chilly hands cup chilly breasts.

Things not said fill up every room.

As he stands there in the door, there’s no room for him anymore.

She lies there saying, “Honey take one last look.”

I’ll tell it all in my new book.

Above the city 300 feet, a derelict in a penthouse suite

packs his suitcase for the midnight train.

The rich girl could not face her dream.

He’s bitter coffee, she’s sweet cream.

She pulls on her shirt, outside it rains.

And later in the rambling dark, he’ll unwrap her broken heart

and smile the weary smile of the crook.

I’ll tell it all in my new book.

Coyote sleeps with everyone, but in the morning he’s long gone

and it turns out that he was a she.

Tales grow tall around the fire.

Where there’s no truth, no one’s a liar.

Whatever mask you wear is who you’ll be.

There is a hole in the day through which we make our gateway -

I make mine every time I’m shook.

I’ll tell it all in my new book.

We sift through culture run amok but our rhythm is still boom-boom-chuck.

The whole world to us is now a theme park.

The tourist takes the traveler’s place, buys a new body, a new face.

A hymn is not a hymn sung with no heart.

And I turn to the Man of Woe and ask him where there’s left to go -

he points down with his shepherd’s crook.

I’ll tell it all in my new book.

When they lead you to the wood, remember that you always should

leave a trail of black-eyed peas behind

so I can find my way to you, whatever you may get into -

you are the one I always long to find,

and when this crazy time is gone,

we’ll build a home down by a pond.

I’d make you a good mate -

I love to cook.

I’ll tell it all in my new book.

On old Cape Cod, it blows a gale.

I’ll be Jonah. You be the whale.

I want to dive as deep as we can go.

Your ship is sailing for the dark, leave your suitcase, take my heart -

hold me, stow me, love me very slow.

Why must this hour come to pass? I look at you and raise my glass.

Our kisses cannot stop the scythe, the hook.

I’ll tell it all in my new book.

I heard a young man sing a song, just that one, and he was gone

off on the journey we all used to make.

It was a song like rain and wind, reminded me of where I’d been,

and that wild feeling I can’t seem to shake.

I’d like to go into some shack and wait for that kid to come back

and sing until the walls and windows shook

and tell it all in my new book.

The soldiers meet between the fights to drink and gamble half the night

while waiting for the fresh troops to arrive.

The battlements will always stand, according to the ancient plan,

not a one of us gets out alive.

And as we huddled in the smoke,

I began to get the joke.

I laughed and kissed you while the whole world shook.

I’ll tell it all, in my new book.