Category: the mind wanders

Melting Into Me

Does too much to say make the saying harder to come by? Have you consigned your will to create with the words that entice you or are they challenging you to do more and better, forcing you to feel deeper and stronger? You don’t know how to write yourself out of what you have fallen into so you simply stop writing because, maybe, if … Read More Melting Into Me

taxi cab from monterey

i want to tic with kerouac in the shiveringest of places. mind does not matter if mind is over matter. that place. i see him.  i feel me there.  i sense him beside me; red wine exhales and musty clothing. he is my breath, my thoughts, my words. i understand; no explanation extended. i just simply do.  

interior monologue

Art in various forms.  Warm rosemary bread and coffee; Vanilla Nut.  Drumsticks and earphones.  Dirty socks on the floor.  Stuffed Animals.  Beach artifacts.  Fresh herbs and scented candles of the real-wick type.  A swinging chair in which to sit and ponder life.  Palm trees and brightly colored, freshly planted flowers.  Painted Terra Cotta pots of twelve-year-old girls. A B-B-Q pit; our first major purchase … Read More interior monologue

my .07

words angst words please words will words piano words pencil words story words my words freeing words leave my mind words run words run words piano run stay play SPEAK leave me black white graphite speak free speak proud speak strong words song run more run more soar go write play speak your way own words own keys own .07 own me words fight … Read More my .07

my world in words

Today I feel pressured because I am short on time and long on tired.  Brain-drained from my day I try desperately to float into my creative space and will something to happen.  Well not just something, but something worthy of my time.  And yours. Reflective.  Chasing shadows – of memories – of evenings – when there existed an hour, or maybe two, during which … Read More my world in words

the house of emil white

Big Sur trees and seemingly angry ocean waves.  Kerouac in a cabin trying desperately to save his life. The air exudes literature and the struggle that is writing – (and living) – at least for me it does. My mind is full of wonderings about those who wrote me here with their words and made it feel like home.  I cannot help but spill … Read More the house of emil white

more than

Tears well up and will their salty selves to fall from my eyes as I fight to hold them back.  Insecurity washes over me, and I mourn me as the corners of my eyes pull and sting with pain.  Sadness consumes my being.  Tears beg now to crash and fall hard and fully.  Wash me clean and allow me to begin again. I hold … Read More more than

newport & nothing

Free-write to stimulate.  We are struggling – the both of us.  I laugh as we try, desperatlely, to recreate the temptress of words.  Fruitless we are in this dingy beach ‘paradise’ god forsaken excuse of a retreat for the writers within us.  Not without Big Sur.  Not without Jack and Henry.  Not upon this balcony that forces our attention to the dirty mayhem beneath … Read More newport & nothing

hey, is that you?

Rays of sunshine are angling their presence through fronds of palm and dancing on my cheeks.  Warmed.  I don’t enjoy when the dance becomes too intense though.  The heat turns my focus to feelings of discomfort and away from the real thoughts prattling around in my head – the ones that aren’t even truly known to me until, somehow, they make their way onto … Read More hey, is that you?

dear jack, et al

vanilla nut warmth and contemplation tentacles searching to answer me that which is my contemplation lost in the words of great writers the contemplative state of mind begs answers that elude and allow me to think upon the very act of thinking i am my sea and ocean my waves of knowing and unknowing wash me in thought and leave me there to wonder … Read More dear jack, et al

reflections on the hill i was late to climb over

I did not…I wasn’t even fucking close to…getting this one right away, this 50-thing…just as I did not get 40…or 30, or likely any decade before the afore mentioned decades.  I had great aspirations and goals for the turning of each; only to find that where I found myself at the changing-of-the-calendar-guard was not, in fact, remotely even hopefully close to where I actually … Read More reflections on the hill i was late to climb over

goldfinch dreams

I dream of you often lately. I have a strong sense that I am coming to understand you better. At least it feels that way in my head. I’m answering some of my own questions now as well –- viewing life through older and more mature lenses, it’s easier to see the human experience as a collective whole and embrace compassion without needing to … Read More goldfinch dreams