Thursday, November 4, 2010

I needed this day, thanks Portland

"the laughing heart"
charles bukowski

your life is your life
don’t let it be clubbed into dank submission.
be on the watch.
there are ways out.
there is a light somewhere.
it may not be much light but
it beats the darkness.
be on the watch.
the gods will offer you chances.
know them.
take them.
you can’t beat death but
you can beat death in life, sometimes.
and the more often you learn to do it,
the more light there will be.
your life is your life.
know it while you have it.
you are marvelous
the gods wait to delight
in you.

Welcome To The Beginning

"The Hill" Barnaby Furnas


"Heartbreak Ridge" Barnaby Furnas

Wednesday, November 3, 2010

Pullman, WA

It's always a good night to listen to Jason.


Friday, October 29, 2010

Thursday, October 28, 2010

Hello, Northwest - I missed you

I Would Steal Horses

for you, if there were any left,
give a dozen of the best
to your father, the auto mechanic
in the small town where you were born

and where he will die sometime by dark.
I am afraid of his hands, which have
rebuilt more of the small parts
of this world than I ever will.

I would sign treaties for you, take
every promise as the last lie, the last
point after which we both refuse the exact.

I would wrap us both in old blankets
hold every disease tight against our skin.

Monday, October 25, 2010

Maybe I Need You

This month has been one long search to places I didn't know were inside me. I'm pushing them out -- I'm depleting myself of the things I should have destroyed and conquered long long ago.

"Maybe I need you the way that big moon needs that open sea.
Maybe I didn't even know I was here until I saw you holding me.
Give me one room to come home to."


Tuesday, October 12, 2010

This is what we shall conquer when the earth is no longer ours

"Air Empathy" Jeffrey McDaniel

On the red-eye from Seattle, a two year-old
in the seat behind me screeches

his little guts out. Instead of dreaming
of stuffing a wad of duct tape

into his mouth, I envy him, how he lets
his pain hang out. I wish I too could drill

a pipeline into the fields of ache, tap
a howl. How long would I need to sob

before the lady beside me dropped
her fashion rag, dipped a palm

into the puddle of me? How many
squeals before another passenger

joined in? Soon the stewardess hunched
over the drink cart, the pilot gushing

into the controls, the entire plane, an arrow
of grief, quivering through the sky.