Zephyr (poem)

Zephyr

(word, woven
reaching fronds
curved
  a tree round
watching
wind-dancing)

Woven-wound and wind-dancing,
a curved tree watches its fronds,
to reach airy conclusions.

A bird, holed up, corroborates
its wit: cotton-leafed wings
whistle the midsummer postprandial breeze.

July, still before a thunder-burst.


(7/22/2014)

Reflections (non-music)

It is hard for me to have a blog about just my music, or just my poetry. I've been reading about writing lately, and feel like I wish I did more of it. So here is what I've been thinking about this morning. I don't know why, exactly. Maybe I am just feeling the passing of time as the summer starts to roll up into overcast late August days like today.


Reflection on loss – family, mortality

The Compassionate Friends is clearly a great organization, and I'm pleased to help the Salem chapter out with their website and emails, but I've never attended a support meeting. I've never lost a child or brother or sister or niece. Both of my parents are still living and doing fine, as are my sister and brother. I can't really imagine the experience of losing someone in my immediate family, though I do remember somewhat how it felt to come home one day in the first grade and find out my mother had been in a terrible car accident and nearly died. And I do remember having bad dark dreams as a young child in which my mother was deathly ill and I felt abandoned, alone. It was a cold, almost paralyzing feeling.

When a personal love relationship of ten years ended for me in 2008, I felt destroyed, and at times thought it would have been better if the person I loved had died, because then it would not somehow be my fault. It would not feel like a choice outside my control, made by someone else I cared for, to not be part of my life any longer. Of course this was just a thought I had. I don't know if it's true beyond the feeling of loss I was experiencing at the time.

In 2009, my father had a near-fatal heart attack, and at first it seemed likely my family would have to go on living without him. But then he miraculously recovered, and we did our best to put that thought aside.

All of my biological grandparents are no longer living. The last one passed on in 1997. That was a great loss, but not the same as it would be to lose someone I grew up with, seeing nearly every day, a part of my basic family unit. I wished I could have known my grandparents better. But I was too young.

Some day I will lose someone close. It will probably be sudden and unexpected. Perhaps I will see them for the last time in a hospital, and be allowed to say goodbye. And someday I will pass on.

People sometimes talk about living each day as if it were our last, but can we really live that way? Wouldn't that be a terribly morbid attitude to hold? Somehow, I feel maybe it is healthier to live each day as if there will be many more to come, because any one day is all we ever have, but no one day is so important that it could be more than just a day in a lifetime. At the same time, we should never take the people we have in our lives for granted. Each time we say goodbye might be the last time.

Haiku (summer)

The orange tabby
stretches for a butterfly —
petunias in bloom.


7/14/2013

Halku: Summer's Dust

Haiku


vacuuming heat vents
burn off all the summer's dust
smells of early fall


(10/9/2012)

Autumn haiku

Haiku

dew on the car top

brace against the morning chill

summer is over

(9/26/12)

Late summer / early fall Haiku

Bracing hand-in-hand,
    leaning into the strong wind,
old fence posts hold strong.


(9/12/12)

This is a revision of a haiku I wrote years ago while traveling through Montana with my family. Sorry it's been quiet here for a while. Soon classes will be starting up again for me.

Haiku - End of Summer

Haiku

End of summer move:
My life in boxes again,
Good use for phone books.


(9/2/2011)

Please follow this link to vote for my poem. It will help me win some money for school. Thanks!

http://t.co/D8qa5Tn

Rondo for String Quartet

I composed this movement for string quartet this term. (You hear it as played by the Finale 2009 String Players.)

My Summer Wheels

My Summer Wheels

My wheels lap up so many miles of solid highway

Like a cool, clean draught on this dry summer day.

Today they drink their fill. (May the cold rains return.)

Slippery silver-blue mirages pave the way in front.

Who lives on Yager Lane? Who lives on Lake Road?

Granges, wine cellars, farm-cow fields greet my progress.

Do they think to slow my haste from where I am to where I am not?

Changing life envelops me anyway.

Now I crest another hill; an elk of leafy branches

Lies in surprise on the narrow curves, but only the wind bends me.

Soon, steady tree limbs signal a quiet reflective moment

To let labyrinthine cares coil behind.

The road is purple where I'm going, and streaking gold with sun's rays.

Here, where the road lies open and plain,

I stop for a poem's breath, and sing to the trees and flowers below!

(8/24/2010)

Father's Days

Father's Days

We used to come here --

my family, aunts and uncles,

cousins, two grandpas, often,

and grandmas, too --

to this park of five acres,

oaks and grass, thick growth

of guarded green between a small bridge

and a bend in the little muddy creek

it bears the road across.

A wooden sign remembers for others

how a pioneer woman's family gave

this parcel, set apart anciently

from the old homestead of Trail folk.

I've heard it is here my mother's mother's

family used to gather in the 50s and 60s,

big family reunions of cousins, uncles,

aunts, grand-ones, babies, too,

coming to this park because

their family had lived in these parts once as well.

When I was a kid we'd gather here

each Father's Day in the sun of June,

western Oregon, amid farmers' fields,

grassy places and empty dirt tilled

just off the highway.

I used to love the way Grandma cooked chicken,

and sometimes baked a bunt.

I remember fruit and salads, too.

It was the only time I ever

ate those salty chicken-flavor crackers.

All of us would eat food spread over

the picnic bench nearest the park entrance,

a big enough space for us kids.

No table here now, I can't find

even a spot of raw gravel where it

must have been dragged away from: only grass

in late afternoon sun

shines callow here.

Someone used to string up a high net across

this dip in the grassy glade, and we'd

play at badminton, batting the plastic-feathered

little odd white bird thing back and forth,

overhead, sun in our eyes, on long narrow rackets.

Such free fun we enjoyed.

Or we'd throw a frisbee far across

between us on the open air, dry gopher-pitted spread.

Often we'd miss the mark or the wind

wheeled the discus high up onto tree branches,

clung there for our comic exertions.

Far across that mere five acres we trod later on,

led through the rough wilderness to see other kids

splashing on the muddy shore hidden and

shaded by the tumbled trunks and sticking

plant life -- burrs and weeds and blackberry mazes.

I don't know why we never brought

swim trunks, never waded in with the

older kids, little kids, sometimes a dog.

I might have been a little afraid of it all.

The minnows fish the cool flow now, over

rusted banks marked by fresh foot- and paw-prints.

I spot the hole some kids dug at

just today, their aimless play

schemed and forgotten.

The still July sun shimmers the shallow,

spread out with subtle forever movements.

Minnows and mud, I take some pictures;

peacefulness greets me openly,

memories rustle the trees and dirt banks.

The old oak stands where we used to climb --

the one I'd remembered, plus the second I'd forgotten,

still gnarled, still growing fat.

Perusing the quiet scene of so many years' past

pleasant days, the whole place feels so small now,

and so quiet.

(7/30/2010)

(See more photos on flickr.)

They Watch Us

They Watch Us

Robotic turns, swiveled moves and

Wings flexed in the moving air,

Black features immune to the midday sun:

They watch us. Now there are two,

Brother dragonflies, striped tails

Half as long as my little finger,

Perching suddenly on the very end

Of branches seared by summer or blight.

More patiently than I can bear the

Too-subtle breeze, but I watch them, too.

Just try to match that patience.

One is gone when I look again.

Now both are gone. I saw one fly.

The summertime sun is lazy on the leaves.

It has a near-eternity to shine today.

Now one comes back to the same limb perch.

He may not see me watch some more,

But he probably does. Those two eyes are

Bigger than his head.

Subtle eyes. Black eyes. Ancient yet new.

Watching is old as sunshine to see by.

(7/11/10)

Roots in the Sky (2003)

roots in the sky

and this time look up:

the tree has roots in the sky

to pilot the crystal dimension

between wind and here

look and see how green

the nuts are still in the branches

(8/1/2003)

Green things in trees are clearly a-seasonal for December in Oregon. Clearly, I'm still thinking back on late summer, but it was midsummer when I wrote this six years ago (!). I dislike the cold, except for the delightful snow it plants in the mountains for me to ride down on.

Surrounded

Surrounded

I step across a field alone,

as bent

And tossed tall grass abreeze the world around,

Made amber-rust by hard and sunny days.

I walk

surrounded by late summer hues.

As acrobatic dragon-flies nearby,

Hunt

two or three, surprise by angles' speed,

Half drunk, half keen, their territorial chase

I watch,

then pass them by on my own way.

I find

no thing, just grasses' drying stalks – and:

Time is th' entombment of this bodily Being.

A palpable force, we must contend, and join

Each,

cut by moments, exceeding weight or wind.

(10/21/2009)

Summer Rain

Summer Rain

The summer rain is sweet and welcome,

   like a round, ripe plum.

The juice runs off the day and

   splashes my face with freshness.

Each bite, each munch, is plentiful, savored.

(8/28/2009)

I love

I love

I love

looking up through the trees

how the leaves change the sky

while little impatiens grow by the porch

the kind breeze touches my bare skin

and old friends ask how I am.

I love

going out so I can come back

how the Saturday afternoon sun

makes angels of it all.

(8/22/2009)

Tiger Lilies

My tiger lilies are blooming right now. They come out and do their thing only once a year, and they don't last long.

I love their vibrant colors, tight curves, and bold spots. They are aptly named.

This is their time: they signal the second half of summer.

It feels to me like it's been an especially warm summer this year. The sun has been nice, but it would also be nice to get away to someplace cooler, like the coast. I think that's what hot days are best suited for – time to move, time for a change. This month I'm packing and moving out of my house, into an apartment or rental – a very big change for me. Cooler days will be welcome.

Maybe my new place will have lilies, too.

Listen and Hum (2006)

Listen and Hum

What would I miss

(if I could)

after

I'm gone from this place?

Perhaps (others will

miss them in my place)

to listen and

hum along

with my favorite tunes

and my lover's presence

with me

drinking tea and

eating whatever is

for breakfast on the weekend.

(9/2006)

Let the Summer Begin!

Today I brought home a new piece of sports equipment that I've been looking forward to owning for a while: a longboard skateboard. I picked up an Arbor Koa Fish longboard at the Tactics Boardshop in downtown Eugene. I found that Tactics' location on 4th is nice and spacious and has a great selection in this department. The salesperson who assisted me was very friendly and helpful, so my overall shopping experience was terrific. She admitted to not being an expert in all aspects of their longboards, but I'd done some homework and had looked at boards elsewhere, so I had a good idea what I wanted, and she did great at helping me find it.

The pavement was wet today and I have never ridden a longboard before, but I was eager to give my new ride a spin. So on my way back toward the bus station I picked a moderately dry and clean sidewalk, set the board down, and pushed off -- and I almost immediately felt at-ease with the feel of this setup. The 38" length is just perfect for my 6' 3" height. I found myself able to step a little forward or back and still keep a solid stance on the deck.

As I rolled up my driveway on my new bundle of joy I immediately felt like I wanted to take it back out on the streets! This is a great feeling to be so excited about riding again. In fact when I saw that the clouds had parted for a bit, I decided to take my new prize for a spin right after dinner. And it was a pure joy to push around the neighborhood. I found it able to handle turns fairly smooth and tight with the trucks adjusted for just a nice amount of play. Cruising and carving were totally fluid - a big change from what I've been used to on my 30" trick deck. If the Oregon liquid sunshine had not started up again I think I would still be out riding. I literally could see myself riding for miles on this thing.

The deck is concave with 7 plies -- 6 of maple and the top one of Hawai'ian koa wood. Arbor uses a clear re-grip so you can see the rich koa wood grain. Overall this makes for a fairly rigid setup, but I found that it does have a nice touch of flex under my 200 pound frame. I could see that being useful in some technical turns and pumping, but I'm not that advanced of a rider yet. The slight flex also provides a little more spring to pushing action, so the ride is that much more fun. There are no wheel cut-ins, but between the risers and the placement of the trucks I can't imagine wheel bite even being possible. The wheels are size 65mm at 78a hardness, which I'm finding quite agreeable so far for traction and smooth riding. Combined with the risers the bumps and cracks in the sidewalk give a very slight, low ping that is very easy on my 35 year old joints. The trucks are Gullwing Chargers, and appear quite sturdy without being overly heavy. The whole rig weighs about 6 or 7 pounds, so it's not too bulky. Bearings are Grease Ball ABEC-5's, not super fast, but very smooth. With a little breaking in so far they are feeling faster, so they are probably literally greased and if I degrease them when I clean them perhaps they will be faster.

For looks, the graphic is gorgeous and really sold me on this model. The fish scales and water ripples are cleverly ornamented by small versions of the Arbor tree logo. The blue wheels coordinate well with the print, and I like the look of the Arbor logo on the top and the koa grain. Really, aside from how it felt to stand on in the shop, the looks are what sold this one to me. Or as I told the salesperson, this one wanted me.

I'm definitely looking forward to riding this baby a lot this season!

• Arbor Skateboards
• Tactics Boardshop in Eugene
  

My Summer Garden

Summer Garden

in the center of
My Summer Garden
i placed a little plant

with green leaves
And White Flowers
that smelled like honey

i came to treasure
This Secret Place
as days grew shorter

until at last i
Joined My Love
beneath the dark soil

(6/7/04)