Bird

I lay in the darkness, blanket barely covering me,
face down, sprawled, sinking into the bed,
separating from myself,
spreading into the night,
the sounds of people, yelling, laughing, brakes and wheels

wondering what she is doing.
I think about you,
remembering when you looked into my eyes,
and how you placed your hand, your palm,
so softly, gently to my chest,
as if you wanted to touch my heart,
and you did.

And now I cant stop thinking about you, wondering,
will you think about me this night.
Will you wonder where I am,
will you miss me as I miss you.

You are like a bird to me, tall, thin, seemingly fragile,
perhaps to fly away at any moment,
like when I grabbed you on the dance floor and you
shook your head and danced away.
But you flew back to me later
and looked into my eyes.

But I am thick skinned, no...
I am thin skinned,
when you flew I...think I'm tough,
I think I play it cool, but I am tender inside,
but only if I care.

Not like that other one,
we played a game with each other.
I think she will never find love.
But you Bird, I care.
and the other couldnt hurt me.
Do you wonder as I do, what it would be like
when we lay together,
face to face, skin to skin,
in the dark where it is only us within the world.

Are you flaming with passion or are you gentle as a warm breeze
that flows over me as I breathe you in, all, deep,
and free you only when I exhale.
And I want to breathe you in, over and over,
until we fall asleep...entangled in the darkness,
having feasted in the fruits of the night
...
but you flew away.
and we will never know.

Carnaval and the Tritons

Another blonde with a triton,
being chased through the Eucalyptus,
daring to be caught.
Sleepless again, how many days can I go...
beds of gravel, wire, pillows of stone.
Sharpening the antlers, pushed into rut,
reading Ginsberg and its like a punch to the gut.
Lady in boots, lady in red, voluptious, sumptious,
good to the last drop but a kick to the head.
Caffeine kicks, inventing tricks,
Friday is coming , time to reinvent.
Lots of money spent, more to go when I put on the show.
The parade, the Carnaval, and the search for Rio.

Oh Troubadour : How do I define ME?

I started the day out full of piss and vinegar, it was going to be a
good day. I was going to see Juana Molina play at the Troubadour
that night. Then work...well not the work... but people at work wanted
to push their egos around and beat their chests and act like gods.

The day went sour.

But still I was going to listen to Juana that night, I had to wash the
taste of the work day out of my mouth, and so I drank Of the Troubadour.
I looked down upon the stage, enjoying the beauty of people, just the
opposite of the work day behind me, and realized, do I let my job define me?
Or is my job just my job? I listen to the music and listen to their souls
and feel their beauty and think, I must define ME.
I thank all of you talented people who want to bring beauty to the world.
The beauty of the soul...and it heals...and it cleanses.

...And I will define me...

I have a soul stretched thin by time and distance. Walking the streets of Austin I cant get it out of my mind. The very air itself hanging heavy was home. My family is no longer there but I feel I should be. Eating pecans on Pecan St. Drinking Lone Star in the Capitol. My brother and his dreams left Austin behind. Why am I the only one who still longs for that home. My California dream is Austin. That is my air to breathe, not the dusty air of SoCal. Don't get me wrong, I love the salty air of the Ventura coast, where I have watched life and death on the beaches. And that is the part of California I love. But I can never get that heavy air of Austin out of my mind.

My brother found his soul, his life is his art.
Wine and spice flow thru my veins,
and I dont want to live the clean life anymore.
I'm moving to L.A.

Blood versus Revenge

Its the 50th Anniversary of John Ford's the Searchers, and I haven't as
yet seen anyone interpret that movie correctly.
Critics continue to call it a "quintessential American story". I say it
is only an American backdrop to a real "Human story". That is because
it is about human nature, not White Americans against Indians.
People keep wanting to apply it as an abstraction of Black-White racism
in America based on the superficial note that a White girl was married
to an Indian. But this movie is not a political statement against
racism. The Commanche were not mere victims of the Cowboy, they once
ruled the southern plains with their war parties. Its not a story about
the Good Cowboy against the Bad Indian, or the Racist White against the
Good Non-White. The story is true to history in regard to this tribe.

It is a John Wayne movie whereby John Wayne is not the "Good" guy hero.
He shows the darker, but real side of humanity. Despite this movie being
Hollywood, starring an actor who played the hero in so many films, this
time he played someone real.

This film is essentially about one thing: what it means to be a traitor.

When the enemy, and it doesnt matter who the enemy is, kills part of
your family or community and takes a young girl from you as war bounty,
it will without a doubt stir feelings of revenge.
It is bound to stir these same feelings in any part of the world between
any 2 enemies. And it doesnt matter if the enemy is of the same race or
not, the same religion or not. Cowboy and Indian, Huttu and Tutsi, Serb
and Bosnian, Shiite and Sunni, und so weiter, und so weiter...

Now, if you search for years to "save" this girl, and you find in the
end that she has changed loyalty and joined the enemy, then the enemy
has been rewarded for its crimes.
This will feel like treason and this reward must be taken from them and
destroyed, the one who commits treason must be killed.
This is how the John Waynes character feels.

On the other hand, how can you kill one who is blood, who has already
suffered, only to finalize the tragedy of her life by killing her too?
This is why there must also be compassion for her.
This is how the adopted half Indian brother feels.

The adopted brother kills Scar, the Commanche kidnapper/killer.
He stops John Wayne from killing the girl.
Who is the hero of this story? What emotion wins out in the end?

Blood versus Revenge
Justice versus Tragedy
Compassion

Scotts Toast

First I would like to say salut to Scott and Valerie.

I also want to say I am proud of Scott, the person he has become.
My brothers and I are all different in how we lead life.
I received an M.S. in Computer Science, and yet it was Scott who
introduced me to the use of some of the latest web technology - the blog site.
He inspired me through his site and the depth of his thoughts so I started my own.

Those of us who know Scott know that he has been on a steadfast journey,
both intellectually and in life.
He can quote from ancient Sufi poetry or modern writers and yet is still
completely in touch with his soul.
And I think it is from deep in his soul where he meets with Valerie.

None of us know the future, what a relationship might bring, but I cant
help but feel that this marriage is truly a soul thing. And its nice to see them
continue this life journey together.

Once again, I say salut to Valerie and Scott.