whether or not

Every morning

theres’s a woman

pruning bush, or

a bush pruning

woman, whether or not

either is real to me

it’s real to her,

that rose bush

pruned, green grass

now rising wet

in the morning dew

of chimney’s now

smoking, standing

in line at the DMV

with the DUI

unpaid, scratching lotto

old men lifting hats

scratching heads,

wondering like children

where all that hair

goes when it falls out

and if there’ll be

enough water

for the grass, in

the coming July drought,

no matter, still

does the woman prune

as the old me croon—

each mourning.

Be the air of peace we’re all capable of breathing.

I recently came across a post stating, “this is a bad year.”

Though I don’t disagree that bad things have happened this year, I can’t fully commit to such a bold statement as the entire year being bad.

Or perhaps, I’m just looking at it from a more critical standpoint?

A protest for example, is a collaborative effort between cultures standing together for justice.

The police force has made efforts, though not always headline news, to reinforce their code of conduct: to protect and serve.

Most citizens are respecting the rights of others, choosing to wear masks, in the fight against COVID-19.

The government is making attempts to sustain our American way of life through relief programs and continued unemployment benefits—even though at times it may feel like not enough—granting enough security to survive.

I’ve seen a number of portable facilities spring up in mainly homeless areas of Los Angeles, which does not solve the issue, but certainly shows hope.

What I am getting at is even in our darkest times, there are signs of hope.

Hope which we can and should not disregard as a complete and utter bad year.

If anything, I’d say, there is an awakening taking place.

What I see from an observers eye is an awakening of people who, regardless of the hardships, struggle, and inability to make concrete sense of all the senseless acts that have been occurring, realize a need for change and progression forward as a human race.

We are all struggling, regardless of another’s grass, I repeat,

we are all struggling.

But with struggle comes realizations. And with realization comes understanding. And with understanding comes progress.

Through common ground and communication I know there is hope, for you, and I, and the suffering on all sides.

It struck me odd today when a friend told me they envy my ability to travel where in turn I assured them, not everything is as it may seem, and that I too am struggling, only I choose a different point in which to view my current state of awareness.

You don’t have to travel far to climb a mountain or swim in a lake, or wake to see the most beautiful sunrise, or even lend a hand to someone less fortunate, because these are natural and always there waiting for you to take action.

Rather than saying, “this year is a bad year,” I suggest taking a deeper look and the time to realize that progress is happening.

And though progress may seem difficult, remain hopeful, my friends.

Be honest with yourself and your loved ones.

Greet a stranger as he were your family, with arms stretched wide in abundance.

Be the light at the end of the tunnel, the light which shines even in our darkest of times.

Be the air of peace in which we’re all capable of breathing.

Be courageous. Be kind. And be hopeful.

Boat at

The turtle and the dove

“You’re pretty,” said the turtle

to the dove. “Thanks,” said the dove

to the turtle, “but I’m nothing

compared to the peacock.”

“Well, I’ve known many a peacock and

I think you’re much more beautiful.”

“Still I’d rather be a peacock,” said the dove

to the turtle. And I’d rather be a dove,

thought the turtle

as he watched the dove take wing.

Whiskey Shakes (song for Josh)

Come on my friend.

It’s time to go.

Where we’re going.

We don’t need roads.

Bring two cups of tea.

Bring your rabbit too.

I’ve got the whiskey shakes.

I think a quart will do.

I hear the grass is green.

Leave your blues at home.

On the other side.

Of this rabbit hole.

I’ve got the whiskey shakes.

I’m paranoid as hell.

You know I don’t take pills.

But this time oh well.

May Morning

Sprinklers water garden lawn

Sirens in the distance

Seagulls spreading wing lift off

Mosquitos hungry witness

Eyelids close they’re curtain thin

My mother’s sleeping now

Sunshine pours and sea grass bends

Gently towards the light

I will remain.

The grass is green getting longer

in the summer

there’s a barbecue and I’ve

got this rice paper journal

it’s eternal

like the sun over Nepal.

Now there’s these two little blue birds

singing softly, shadow dancers

on the lawn

I’ve got this quaint little feeling

there’s a reason

for the bull skull on the wall.

A plane flies overhead

a sky of blue, a sea of red

mountaintops and forest bed

remain…

The grass is covered with snowfall

in October

frosted snow caps on the lawn

yet still those two little blue birds

nesting softly

they sing their joyful song.

I lace my boots fill my canteen

need some relief

from the city full of drums

rucksack and trail unwinding

I’m reminded

of my love for everyone.

The rocks and sandstone bend

leaves fall from tree, I comprehend

there is no time still consequence

remains,

I will remain.

Blades of grass

Blades of grass

beneath my feet

rise and fall

and spring back

towards

my perception of sky,

and my eyes are blue

and my vision is clear

and I’m seeing sevens,

while my shadow flutters

and becomes the tree

which stands still as death

O Heavens! O Heavens!

your child’s due rebellion—

a gift,

now I can finally see.

ashes and asphalt

The grass was thick and warm

unlike the asphalt

which was fire to her to feet

so she lay in the grass

sharp but pliable blades

caressing her skin exposed

while the sun began

to shower her thoughts poured

like rain simmering steam rose

from the ashes and asphalt.

from the grassy knoll

A wave of relief rushes over me

and I haven’t smiled so hard,

as when a flock of morning dove

flutter from the grassy knoll

and fly overhead.