Colors

Colors

Some beauties, sweet and fleet,
like the happy bird on the branch by the window,
you cannot catch them.
To cage is to kill them.
Some beauties you have to let go.

The colors of a song are so bright
and soft, my dazzled eyes cannot see what
only my heart can feel.
The muse of the poet is kindly cool.
Her visits are passing.

Some lovers, warm and dear,
like the singing bird on the tree by the fence,
you cannot keep them.
To catch is to hurt them.
Some lovers you need to let go.

The years of a life are so bright
and swift, my thoughts cannot catch what
barely memories can hold.
The love of a friend is a godly grace.
His visits are treasure.


(5/3/2012)

Love's Swift Wheels

Love's Swift Wheels

Love's swift wheels rush you

safely to my arms tonight;

The darkened, cool roads smooth

your approach for my kisses.

Flee the tasks that kept you:

no more delay for us.

Your touch is all I seek to keep,

your body at my side.

Tender talk can wait for morning,

just give me warm embraces soon, for

There's no better use of wheels or words

Than to speed true loves to their loves.

(8/27/11 & 8/29/11)

My Life

My Life

Disappointment, I never seem

to stack up to myself.

Afraid to fail, afraid to try,

I'm the first to criticize.

If my life were a book I might

rip out every page that hurt me,

kept me scared,

But I'm a poem.

Awake at night, my eyes so tight

I cannot even dream.

I need some pride in what I've done,

but I just make a mess.

If my life were a book I could

burn away the pages that shame me,

keep me alone,

a closed book.

I need to do what makes me free.

I need to open up.

My heart wants me to sing out loud, but

fear has kept me shut.

If my life were a book I would

rewrite all those pages that hurt me,

kept me down.

My life is a song.

(12/8/2009)

Snowboarding!

(Yes, it is the height of summer, but...)

One of the most fun things I've ever done is snowboarding! I started learning to ride back in February 2006 and have ridden quite a few times during the past few seasons here in Oregon.

Click here to see some of my snowboarding trip photos on flickr.

My favorite place to ride is Willamette Pass on highway 58, because it is pretty close to home, the conditions and runs are pretty good, and the scenery is amazing. There are beautiful views of lakes, wilderness, and other peaks in the Cascade Mountains. I've also visited Mt. Bachelor near Bend a couple of times and had fun there as well.

Riding my board down a fast run feels almost like flying. It is a very freeing and confidence-building experience for me. I have a similar interest in skateboarding, and recently started riding a longboard. It's not quite as thrilling for me as snowboarding, but it's a very cool way to get around, and the feel of carving a longboard can be similar to connecting turns in snow on a gentle slope. (I've yet to dare going very fast on concrete. The street is a little less forgiving than snow!)

Writers

I'm cleaning things up on my interwebs and want to "re-post" here a short reflection I wrote a few years ago.

Writers are:

• passionate, because they are fully engaged in a subject;
• considerate and friendly, because they care about others;
• playful, because they are connected to their "inner child";
• balanced, because they value diversity and differing perspectives;
• thoughtful, because they are careful thinkers and dedicated communicators;
• socially adept, because they engage, listen, and communicate skillfully;
• warm and caring, because they value people most of all;
• normal, because everyone is a writer, so they are no different;
• ordinary people, because they have the same needs and dreams;
• special, because they have found the calling to be artists of words.

I admit that all of these qualities may not be universally true and evident for everyone who writes. Everyone is a unique individual and makes different choices about how they express themselves and experience life. But I can't help but perceive that the act of writing itself must necessarily draw a person more deeply in touch with themselves, as well as with humanity.

The above statements may be the naïve notion of a young writer starting out, but I feel it is true for myself, if for no one else. And this is my motivation for writing.

Alone (written Dec. 5, 2005)

Alone

I am the man who

smiles

while his tears fall,

articulations

my foot taps, dancing

to the music

the beat of my spine

I keep you at a distance

so I can know you, face

to face

Alone, I am with you,

(I love you)

time burns and I am the ashes.

(12/5/2005)

One of my many restless nights in late 2005, I wrote this. Perhaps I'd had a fight with my partner. Perhaps I was just feeling keyed up and was thinking about my life and relationship with him. I know I was working through complex, seemingly contradictory and irreconcilable feelings (antinomy), undeniable life processes, fear of being hurt and causing hurt. I can still feel the experience very closely.

Somewhat ungrammatical and a bit asymmetrical, I probably scratched this out in the dark on the notebook I used to keep beside my bed for my journal. I see the central theme as very hopeful and life-affirming, even through the fear and pain. The last image is like a phoenix, recognizing that we are always constantly being reborn in each instant, a new (existential) self faced by totally new and novel choices: but only if we recognize that power within, the fire that burns. This is inexorable, a fire that doesn't go out but continues. It is passion and creativity, eros/searching out, constant living on the edge, living in the shadow of death. The present self is always already passing away.

I probably was feeling lonely, too, or afraid of being abandoned. My answer: I don't give up. I must not abandon myself.