Thursday, January 26, 2017

Two-and-a-Half Minutes to Midnight

the clock is ticking
on my day-old-coffee
on my central-air
on my clothes I bear

decimation of every 10th second
30 seconds tick off
and I'm at 2 and a half minutes
UNTIL midnight

our destruction we've ensured

The clock is ticking
on my forest
on my roads
on my family

Leaving me to wonder
What good is big Data
What find is big Government
What shit is big Money

Madness in the bedlam brings beds to lambs
And a light to cast away the demons onto the cave wall

If we're lucky, we'll adopt fact-based reality.
If we're lucky, we'll have you helping.
WHY, if we're lucky, it's all-ready-done.
If... bigness should follow suit...
Why, we could play cards that last hour!!!

Tuesday, January 17, 2017


A winter baby,
My first flower remembered by concrete
And back street by earth in Spring
Backyard violets
Tiny and so purple

But now they spring bad
Big Bad Government
Big Bad Money
Big Bad Data
One weaved genetically with the other
Leafing out, flowering out three

Stealing our power
Stealing our money
Stealing our respect

And I'm left wondering did Dada know this?
Did Kafka, and Plathe, and Descarte?
What would Leonardo scheme?
What would Michealangeo paint?
What would Da Vinci invent?
What would Donatello do?

In their poorer living
Faced with eternal enslavement...
Must it come down to climate change

And if clock is reset,
Must we really live without time
For an age... without eclecticity...
Hand to mouth.

Sunday, January 15, 2017

Worlds Flow and Crystallize

the water
the wind rejoins

as I sit and watch

the sunshine
the earth holds us all

and I ask, and ask, and contemplate

my stillness
my body flows

another world dispels doubt and despair

I am me
I know who I am now

while adirondack doubt and despair take a flying leap

I show out
I quickly close the door

returning to fire, I let its warmth flow through me
like the fire and vibration of life
returning to me, warmth warms

eclectic universe

addendum finds my own way home last night, too

the four elements
my neighbor speaks on truth today

The body holds the heat in

I'm doing
and sit while holding no-doing

another sunny day grows up

Saturday, January 7, 2017

Towers Outing

I wander stilted, The layers peeled
Up, off, through
The last hack here left me unsynced
Bereft of depth matching, twisted an ankle,
And the ping beacons weren't helping...

Ya, I'm on the upper v-lands, westside
Where our bridges are continual construction projects
And Clears only come once each snowfall

Here's scenic, constant edification
Surrounding ecology, wildlands with wildlife
But with that come wildfires, too

Just not a lot of people
And fewer still that can edit vrshtml
For the augment layers supported by modem
Our ONE cellular tower, privately owned.
Not a lot of use, I guess.
Not a lot of people.

But there were some layers
I downloaded what I could, anyhow
With my handme-down phone
I use to get handme-down clothes
Now I pay for those and get seconds on electronics

What might my 3rd childhood bring...
Handme-down jobs?  An UBER for yardwork?
Handme-down property?  I do not know.
But it's probably somewhere already, in a thrift store.

So ya, downloaded the layers
And walked around, but the ping beacons were dead
The cheap jobbies installed had clouded solar panels
Their batteries were dead, or just erratic,
Pinging off spurioiusly

But it was fun, went up to Towers Park
And there were all the plant names hovering
And season-cycle trailers and gifs
Most of which were missing because without a link
The download is massive for imagery and gifs
But the libraries filled in with words that gifs didn't.

One guy spent two-weeks up there camping
And spent it making an artistic layer
It's cool, most the trees in charcoal
With animal recognition AI plugin on in color
Full 3d-layers in oils for most the bugs
And the deer I saw was perfectly depth-matched
For a whole minute, till said ping-beacons anyway.

My mom and I chatted next to the creek
And I bought time for us on the NFS-wifi
And I could see which pictures she'd shuttered
As they floated past onto the upload stream.
I Oooed and awed as I uploaded audio of several stops.
She shared her twitter feed as I made sandwiches.

Then her robot ran out of juice and she couldn't connect
My eyeballs were drooping low, too,
And she was showing steel.
So I got the dolly and loaded her back up
And motored home to give her a high-five.

Wednesday, December 28, 2016

The Good Witch


You know

      I talk, you know what
                I talk, you know what you're about

But one does not know how
To say
     To say what
           To say what one knows...

How does one go about saying what they know?

Please observe,


    And what does

          And what does that take?

Please observe,

But HOW!?

Friday, December 23, 2016

At the bottom of every mountain of every peak
Runs a river or stream or creek
Over the hills and through the trees
To grandmother's house water flows

And though life is like a river
Merrily merrily streaming along
Many things may happen
Many sing different songs

And some songs come and go
Some bury themselves in the dead long ago
Some carry us, while others sleep
Some of sheep, some of cow

Some sing of liberty and practicing freedom
Some sing of grief and of letting go
Some sing of anger, some of trauma
While others sing of angels' glow

And low on the darkest day
We sing of presidencies
We sing of Trumps ludicrisouscity
And government plutocracy

And on and on and on we sing
On our way to grandmother's house

Saturday, December 17, 2016

I Was Sitting by the Window

I glove my hands
And my eyeballs glow electric
Because, they ARE- with a hundred LEDs
Fed by bioelectric energy metabolizing in blood
Oxygen fed and glucose ATP

The gloves, I'm cheap
Haven't the clink nor capital
For the skinweave to feed, into
So with my left hand I press the contact
Thumb to pinky let's me right click stinky

AND OH BOY, there's his twitter history
And a press and swipe let's me reply...
And o.h. boy. Thumb to ring
I sing a short spell to screen-yell

I wonder, too, what skin weave might do
The amputee pelegic can have their shit shifted in
Can't move his arm, but his actions' manic
Might type a thousand words per minute, with good chrome

It's good to track tactually, though
Or it all feels like rubber

Pinky to forefinger and I log out,
The eyes dim, I put them on ocular mag-thin
And go back to sewing my pants at the laundry mat
While I wait for my laundry
With gloves off and a thimble on