Sky Observations 12.9.06

A new day
Sunlight looks orange
Against the brown leaves
Still dangling against tree branches
The air so still
It looks like a painting
And it shines a happy
Light against the winter day
Claire's trip home
To come and shine
More light across my
Winter days.

Sky Observations 9.25.06

October sky almost
Dark royal blue
And buttermilk
Puffs bunching and moving
A narrow slit
Allows today's sun
To put a irredescent
And silver jagged stretch
Across my eyes
The ladies sing me a song
Of trance
And mesmerize me.

Sky Observations 8.4.06

The day starts
Blue, but
Heat will push it
Away today
I saw a yellow finch
On the purple cornstalk
Flower just now
The mind keeps
Its games apace.

Sky Observations 8.3.06

Days edge forward
Without Chloe
Flat summer sky
Now brown with pollution
A warning smear
For today's breath
I can smile, but
It is hard to mean it.

Sky Observations 8.01.06

Red ball sun
In a flat pearl sky
Pushing in the
Expected oppresive heat
The sear
The change
The death of Chloe
They press against me
And make my soul weary.

Sky Observations 7.31.06

Pale, even
White scald
Against the new day...
Again... what?
Chloe died on Friday
And it changes
Everything, really.

Sky Observations 7.21.06

Sky today
Very flat blue
The lightest
Powder blue
Scalloped white
Layered across
With faint morning light
And thining clouds
In creamy yellow.

Sky Observations 7.20.06

Summer flat sky
Smooth pearl
A glossy sheen
Mild light to the trees
Very still
Awaiting the heat
That will come
Listening to Conrad's CD
Rap reggae.

Sky Observations 4.26.06

Cool air blows
Through Atlanta today
The sky looks
And feels like fall
Deep blue
With fast-moving
Bunches of clouds
The lime-green
Yellow trees
And spring light
Contrasts against this sky
A mix of warm
Days to come
And the last days
of our 2006 winter.

Sky Observations 3.17.06

St. Pat's Day
The world, my world
Is turning a bit green
The light lime and yellow
Of spring
Side by side
Yellow jonquils
With wine, burgandy
Pansies of winter
LIght is bright
The sky is postcard perfect
Puffy small clouds
On powder blue.

Sky Observations 3.15.06

I traveled,
It came...
Officially by my standards
Spring is here
The colors are coming
But it's really about
The light
And maybe about
The gorgeous blue
Still a slight winter veneer
But almost periwinkle.

Sky Observations 3.9.06

Why gray, and cold
It's March!

Sky Observations 3.8.06

Light so clear
So bright
Heat of the skin
Warm and soothing
Blinking through
Bare branches
Soon to change
Squint bright
Smile bright
Heart smile
Serotonin rush
Bright and beautiful.

Sky Observations 2.4.06

Eggshell blue
Winter overlay
Charcoal jagged
White, cold white
Check the sun
So bright
Squinting against
Reflections of light
Streaking like rivulets
Of water
Across the road.

Sky Observations 2.3.06

7 a.m. drive
Fog so thick
Like on a magic carpet
Floating through the night.

Sky Observations 2.2.06

Gray, just gray
Not a black storm gray
Just a sad day gray
Trees awaiting a sign
Rough scales of bark
Line the sky
Winter branches
Scratching against
The pending movement

Sky Observations 1.31.06

Skyline Atlanta
Pale, pale blue and
Lemon light.

Sky Observations 1.30.06

Thunderstorms raging,
Driving the rain yesterday
Gives way overnight to
Fuzzy gray, diffuse skies
Thin veils of mist
Opening to winter sky blue
Filtering light is
Subtle into the mist
As winds blow through
Layers mixing colors in the east
The sun puts a bright
Lining against charcoal
Pearl yellow forms a ball
Against the dark sky
The contrast more blinding
Than a clear day at Noon
Postcard pretty
Top of the hill Poloroid sky.

For John: I Turn Around - 1978

Blue-eyed days' domain
brilliantly, defiantly directing
heat from a distance
very close.
You drive away
into the city,
I reflect upon
the kindest eyes
I have ever looked into,
the warmest brown.

I believe lapis blue skies color
comes second
after all these years
to the color of your eyes
and all I can see is you.

I have azure sunshine,
hot pearl days,
storms with thunder,
friends laughter,
dogs to dance my smiles,
music to embrace my spirit,
and the essence of summer.

Yet, I turn around
and all I want to see is you.

White Bird, by It's a Beautiful Day

White Bird
In a golden cage
On a winter's day
In the rain
White bird
In a golden cage
Alone
The leaves blow
Cross the long black road
To the darkened skies
In its rageBut the white bird
Just sits in her cage
Unknown.
White bird must fly
Or she will die
White bird
Dreams of the aspen tree
With their dying leaves
Turning goldBut the white bird
Just sits in her cage
Growing old.
White bird must fly
Or she will die
White bird must fly
Or she will die
The sunsets come
The sunsets go
The clouds Float by
And The Earth
Turns slow
And the Young Birds Eyes
Do always Glow
And She must fly
She must fly
She must fly
White bird
In a golden cage
On a winter's day
In the rainWhite bird
In a golden cage
Alone
White bird must fly
Or she will die
White bird must fly
Or she will die
White bird must fly
Or she will die
White bird must fly

It's A Beautiful Day was a band formed on a beautiful day in San Francisco in 1967, and was the brainchild of violinist and vocalist David LaFlamme. The debut album, the self-titled It's A Beautiful Day, was released in 1969. The band was a latecomer in the psychedelic scene, often considered to be one of the "second wave" bands that emerged from the San Francisco Bay Area.

The band's first album featured tracks like "White Bird" (which quickly became a hit song), "Hot Summer Day" and "Time Is". The vocals and violin playing of David LaFlamme plus Pattie Santos' singing drew a huge following in the Bay Area.

March 6, 1975

I am thinking of Richmond, Ky., and being there today with spring just days away. The warmth of the sun reminding me of the days there with David, on Woodland Avenue. We made trips to Boonesboro Beach, trips into fantasies, and trips into ourselves. I miss David today, and I think of him often.

David Carter, you steal my control, my rationality. You are so damn beautiful to me. I'll never know why I left you, and why I waited so long, too long, to come back.

I went to David's house today - Colleen was at the door when it opened. "Hello, I'm Sarah," I said. "I used to go with David, I just wondered how he is doing?"

"Your Sarah Goodwin?", she asked, knowing of me.

"Yes."

"He's fine - he'll graduate in June."

"Oh, well tell him hello for me."

If she only knew how I feel when I see David, she would not have been so polite.

I will try to find him still...

My Daughter 2006

My Son 2006

Conrad is on the right!

Reflecting on 1964

My blog earlier today using Barry Goldwater's quote, and reflecting that he was a conservative candidate in 1964, made me think back to that year. I was in 9th grade at the beginning of that year at Morton Junior High School in Lexington, Kentucky, and pretty much saw politics through my parents' lens. He may have seemed radical to some then, but he represented a separation of government from other areas like religion and personal choice which liberals have always promoted.

But back to Spring 1964: After school my friends and I used to walk down to Chevy Chase to a dive that served grilled buttered french toast and we would douse this crispy bread with spicy mustard. We would sing Leslie Gore's "It's my party and I'll cry if I want to" and shimmied in unison along Tates Creek Road. My first boyfriend was Johnny Johnson and we sat next to each other in typing class - "Johnny Angel" was a popular song at the same time, so I would sing along to the 45 on my record player.

A lot happended in this school year, like John F. Kennedy's assasination in Fall 1963. I was sitting in the library at school when an announcement came over the loudspeaker: "the President of the United States has been shot."

My sister Deedie was navigating her first college experiences and had an apartment in Chevy Chase - a studio - and she would let me come down and visit her - I think it was during this time, but might have been slightly later. My Mom and Dad - Sue and Rodger - were putting a lot of time into Kentucky Ornamental Iron to build the business they had bought just a couple of years earlier. We always had dinner together, and my Dad would work again at night and my Mom and I would watch Peyton Place on TV.

This is about the time I started following the Lexington band the Magnificent Seven, a white guys' blues and rock band. Larry Orr was the lead singer, and I was totally crazy for him when he sang "Try a Little Tenderness." For the next three years through high school I was the band's biggest groupie.

I liked the Beatles that year, but a group called the Rolling Stones was capturing my attention with "Time Is on My Side." And Bob Dylan's "Blowin' in the Wind" was making me think. And the Animals "House of the Rising Sun" was making me feel. With the Viet Nam war going stronger, civil rights starting to heat up, and a hint of the women's movement in the air, I was on the verge of starting my life-long pursuit of justice, politics, philosophy and art - I just didn't realize it yet.

Here you go: Otis Redding's "Try a Little Tenderness":

oh she may be weary
them young girls they do get wearied
wearing that same old miniskirt dress
but when she gets weary
you try a little tenderness
oh man that
un hun
hi know shes waiting
just anticipating
the thing that youl never never possess
no no nobut while she there waiting
try just a little bit of tenderness
thats all you got to do
now it might be a little bit sentimental no
but she has her greavs and care
but the soft words they are spoke so gentle
yeah yeah yeahand it makes it easier to bear
oh she wont regret it
no nothem young girls they dont forget it
love is their whole happiness
yeah yeha yeahbut its all so easy
all you got to do is trytry a little tenderness
yeah
damn that hart (hard?)
all you got to do is know how to love her
you've got tohold her
squeeze hernever leave her
now get to her
got got got to try a little tenderness
yeah yeahlord have mercy now
all you got to do is take my advice
you've got to hold her
don't squeeze her
never leave her
you've got to hold her
and never
so you got to try a little tenderness
a little tendernessa little tenderness
a little tenderness
you've got togot to got to
you've gotta hold her
don't squeeze her
never leaver heryou got
got got got tonow now now
got got got to
try a little tenderness

More later.

Goldwater on religion and political pressure

In the book by Richard Dawkins called "The God Delusion" he uses a quote from Barry Goldwater in 1981 [past presidential candidate, and when I was in 9th grade I supported him for the presidency]:

"There is no position on which people are so immovable as their religous beliefs. There is not more powerful ally one can claim in a debate than Jesus Christ, or God, or Allah, or whatever one calls this supreme being. But like any powerful weapon, the use of God's name on one's behalf should be used sparingly. The religious factions that are growing throughout our land are not using their religious clout with wisdom. They are trying to force government leaders into following their positions 100 percent. If you disagree with these religious groups on a particular moral issue, they complain, they threaten you with a loss of money or votes or both. I'm frankly sick and tired of the political preachers across this country telling me as a citizen that if I want to be a moral person, I must believe in A, B, C, and D. Just who do they think they are?And from where do they presume to claim the right to dictate their moral beliefs to me? And I am even more angry as a legislator who must endure the threats of every religious group who thinks it has some God-granted right to control my vote on every roll call in Senate. I am warning them today: I will fight them every step of the way if they try to dictate their moral convications to all Americans in the name of conservatism."
Dawkins says in his new book published by Houghton Mifflin Company in 2006, "The religious views of the Founding Fathers are of great interest to propagandists of today's American right, anxious to push their version of history. Contrary to their view, the fact that the United States was not founded as a Christian nation was clearly stated in the terms of a treaty with Tripoli, drafted in 1796 under George Washington and signed by John Adams in 1797."

Sasha, Camus, and Sarah on a Journey

Sasha, Camus and myself
on a small journey
the sky muted grays
superimposed over turquoise
the clouds billowing
the highway goes on forever
a sense of release
the wind gusting
a sense of adventure
the sun glowing between the clouds.
Motion itself, movement
continuous metamorphosis
out of the city
your can smell the earth
my emotions zenith
I want to hug a tree
and kiss the earth
I am a child of the universe.
The sight of the city
exhiliration
walking down old streets
intense as I walk from one to the next
I feel it
survival
everyone looking for
survival
the motion of the city
makes me feel very alive
I try to comprehend
the reality of it all
and later
I am lying in bed
the night air close
cool and soothing
feeling the magic of the night.

Here Comes the Sun - My Version

It is 1975. I called John Tranchese in Bayonne, N.J., today. He sounds just like he did when I saw him two years ago in Bowling Green, Kentucky.

Tonight the radio played "Here Comes the Sun" by the Beatles. The first time I heard this album I was with John in Atlanta at Thanksgiving in 1969. We were at an all night party with friends. There was an early snow, and we took a walk in the light, dry snowflakes at dawn down to the freeway to talk about philosophy and our estimation of life and its meaning. We watched the sun rise in the early winter sky.

Albert Einstein on happiness

Strange is our situation here on Earth. Each of us comes for a short visit, not knowing why, yet sometimes seeming to divine a purpose. From the standpoint of daily life, however, there is one thing we do know: that man is here for the sake of other men - above all for those upon whose smiles and well-being our own happiness depends. Albert Einstein

Lonely Hours

The cold, lifeless winter sky
with branches bare
reaching for protection
that they will not find
I sit quietly anticipating.
I let the quiet slowly
seep inside my body and brain
while the frozen earth beneath
joins with the quiet
to numb my body
and make anticipation control
my very being.
Perhaps in some future moment
contentment will consume me
I will be swallowed by a force
I am not familiar with now
and at this time
I can store peace of mind
for some later day
when the sky is hard
and the world belongs
not to me
but to lonely hours.

Dancing Words

Writing miles
into years
blue notes
into songs
murmurous memories
into obscurity
passions
into purities
flutters
into fantasies
dreaming unrealities
into visions
mediocrity
into intrigue
spilling sanity
into intoxication
stars
into mirrors
tranquility
into thunderstorms
chaos
into solitude
transforming revolution
into lifetime anarchy
harmony
into questions
riddles
into puzzles
resigning the heart
into meloncholia
unrestrained anger
into power
conformity
into lawlessness
compliance
into dissent
mingling momentos
into melodies
mellowing morning
into lunacy
well-being
into the perverse
observing perpendicular
into distortion
omens
into oysters
rehersals into self-restraint
clarity
into the unknown
tranparency
into a lusterless blur
writing a metamorphosis
into shifting days
tempering perceptions
into refinement.

Time leads to philosophy and science

The matter of time leads to looking at the universe, and then, of course the science and the philosophy of science. I am not trained in the study of philosophy or as a scientist, but I like to have a look when I am thinking about what time really means. You cannot help but bump into key figures in the 20th Century who looked a science and its meaning. The following is a glimpse [and very oversimplified] into a major thinker of our time:

Sir Karl Popper finally solved the puzzle of scientific method, say some, which in practice had never seemed to conform to the principles or logic described by the important philosopher of science Francis Bacon. Instead of scientific knowledge being discovered and verified by way of inductive generalizations, leaping from perceptual data into blank minds, in terms that go back to Aristotle, Popper realized that science advances instead by deductive falsification through a process of "conjectures and refutations."

It is imagination and creativity, not induction, that generates real scientific theories, which is how Einstein could study the universe with no more than a piece of chalk, so states a summary of Popper's work. Experiment and observation test theories, not produce them. Some philosophers, like Kant, had come close to recognizing it.

It is still subject to some dispute, though mainly from those who misunderstand the rejection of induction or who demand positive epistemic reasons for crediting theories that are derived negatively, by falsification.

But what holds so much intrigue, in my mind, is the continuum from science to philosophy to science many key thinkers take in their lifetimes. Popper spent a lot of time studying what he called ‘methodological individualism’: rules to the effect that the behavior and actions of collectives should be explained by the behavior of human individuals acting appropriately to the logic of their social situation as best they can and as best they see it.

According to methodological individualism, social theories are tested not by historical predictions, which are little more than prophecies, Popper argues, but by attempts to invent institutions that correct social faults by social engineering. Man-made social institutions are hypotheses in action, he said.

He said to watch for ‘the Oedipus effect’, the way in which a prediction about the future becomes an altering factor in the situation as human beings are aware of it, thus ‘interfering’ with the outcome.

Okay, so I have wended my way back around to time and the future [sort of].

According to the Routledge Encyclopedia of Philosophy, Popper as a philosophy instructor "displayed ambivalence: philosophical problems emerge from science, so the best preparation was an education in a first- order subject, preferably scientific. He regularly displayed an astonishingly quick intuitive grasp of the logic of any position presented to him, even from the most meagre of clues, and an eagerness to strengthen and elaborate on it before setting about criticizing it.

He thus exemplified the values he advocated: intellectual seriousness, personal responsibility and disinterestedness, that is, doing justice to ideas regardless of their temporary embodiment. Any attempt to map Popper’s ideas into traditionally oriented discussions risks misrepresentation. The frequent practice of reconstructing Popper’s philosophy timelessly, plucking materials from works published as far apart as fifty years, flies in the face of his emphasis on the structuring role of problems and problem-situations in all intellectual activity, particularly inquiry. To do justice to the originality and creativity of his work, scholarship needs in the first instance to respect its intellectual context of production."

Pacing Through Time

Once more I must slow down my pacing
for just a moment's time
and ask just where I am headed
and at what expense.

Involving unknowingly
lives that are better off
on some other plane
mine is too scattered
flinging involvements in a rotation
that takes only a spec
of universal time.

Shall I retreat to a place
of safety
allow myself pleasures
only seldom
living for learning
enjoying every day
with the moon and stars
until the day
I am to leave this planet.

Sixty Diamond Minutes

Lost:
Somewhere between
Sunrise and sunset
Golden hours
Sixty diamond minutes

No reward offered
For they are
Gone forever.

Coming a long way from anywhere

Anywhere Like Heaven
James Taylor

When I walk along your city streets
And look into your eyes
When I see that simple sadness
That upon your features lies
If my spirit starts to sink
It comes as no surprise
It's been a long way from anywhere
Like Heaven to your town, this town
There's a pasture in the countryside
I used to call my own
There's a natural pillow for my head
The grass there's overgrown
I think of that place from time to time
When I want to be alone
It's been a long way from anywhere
Like Heaven to your town, this town
Now, people live from day to day
But they do not count the time
They don't see the days slipping by
And neither do I
Now, people live from day to day
But they do not count the time (you know)
They don't see their days slipping by
And neither do I
When I walk along your city streets
And look into your eyes
When I see that simple sadness
That across your features lies (I see lies)
If my spirit starts to sink
It comes as no surprise
I've come a long way from anywhere
Like Heaven to this town, your town

Forever lyrics, forever sound from Blood, Sweat & Tears

Morning Glory, by Blood, Sweat & Tears
(L. Beckett, T. Buckley)

I lit my purest candle
close to my window
hoping it would catch the eye
of any vagabond who passed it by
and I waited in my fleeting house

Before he came I felt him drawing near
Passing nearI felt the ancient fear
that he had come to my door and jeered
and I waited in my fleeting house

Tell me stories,
I called to the hobo Stories of Cold,
I smiled to the hobo Stories of old,
I knelt to the hobo
and he stood before me in my fleeting house.

No, said the hobo
no more tales of time
don't ask me now to wash away the grime
I can't come in 'cause it's too high a climb
and he walked away from my fleeting house

Then you be damned
I screamed to the hobo
Leave me alone,
I wept to the hobo
Turn into stone, I knelt to the hobo
and he walked away from my fleeting house

I lit my purest candle
Close to my window
hoping it would catch the eye
of any vagabond who passed it by
and I waited in my fleeting house

Sky photos from flickr

Some beautiful photos of skies have been taken... search on flickr to find them.

Blood Colors (For the Boat People)

Patterned
speckled
courtyard light
filters
through mint green leaves
and sable, tangled branches
within my weather-worn walls.
I am hidden
protected
as the violence of mankind
smashes lives
in glittering sunsets
of blood colors
sad
drawn
real souls
are washed into
the salty, sapphire
death dimension
and lives
stretch
into non-definition.

One More Today for Jim - The Soft Parade

The Soft Parade - The Doors, Lyrics by Jim Morrison

When I was back there in seminary school
There was a person there
Who put forth the proposition
That you can petition the Lord with prayer
Petition the lord with prayer
Petition the lord with prayer
You cannot petition the lord with prayer!
Can you give me sanctuary
I must find a place to hide
A place for me to hide
Can you find me soft asylum
I can't make it anymore
The Man is at the door
Peppermint miniskirts, chocolate candy
Champion sax and a girl named Sandy
There's only four ways to get unraveled
One is to sleep and the other is travel
One is a bandit up in the hills
One is to love your neighbor till
His wife gets home
CatacombsNursery bones
Winter women Growing stones
(Carrying babies to the river)
Streets and shoes,
Avenues
Leather riders selling news
(The monk bought lunch)
Successful hills are here to stay
Everything must be this way
Gentle streets where people play
Welcome to the Soft Parade
All our lives we sweat and save
Building for a shallow grave
Must be something else we say
Somehow to defend this place
(Everything must be this wayEverything must be this way)
The Soft Parade has now begun
Listen to the engines hum
People out to have some fun
A cobra on my left
Leopard on my right, yeah
Deer woman in a silk dress
Girls with beads about their necks
Kiss the hunter of the green vest
Who has wrestled before
With lions in the night
Out of sight!
The lights are getting brighter
The radio is moaning
Calling to the dogs
There are still a few animals
Left out in the yard
But it's getting harder
To describe sailors
To the underfed
Tropic corridor
Tropic treasure
What got us this far
To this mild equator
We need someone or something new
Something else to get us through
Calling on the dogs
Calling on the dogs
Calling on the dogs
Calling on the dogs
Calling in the dogs
Calling all the dogs
Calling on the gods
Meet me at the crossroads
Meet me at the edge of town
Outskirts of the city
Just you and I
And the evening sky
You'd better come alone
You'd better bring your gun
We're gonna have some fun
When all else fails
We can whip the horses' eyes
And make them sleep
And cry....

The Doors - Send Me Back, Babe

When the music's over - The Doors, Lyrics by Jim Morrison

Yeah, c'mon
When the music's over
When the music's over here
When the music's over
Turn out the lights
Turn out the lights
Turn out the lights
When the music's over
When the music's over
When the music's over
Turn out the lights
Turn out the lights
Turn out the lights
For the music is your special friend
Dance on fire as it intends
Music is your only friend
Until the end
Until the end
Until the end
Cancel my subscription to the resurrection
Send my credentials to the house of detention
I got some friends inside
The face in the mirror won't stop
The girl in the window won't drop
A feast of friends alive she cried
Waiting for me outside
Before I sink into the big sleep
I want to hearI want to hear
The scream of the butterfly
Come back, baby
Back into my arms
We're getting tired of hangin' around
Waitin' around
With our heads to the ground
I hear a very gentle sound
Very near
Yet very far
Very soft
Yet very clear
Come today
Come today
What have they done to the earth?
What have they done to our fair sister?
Ravaged and plundered
And ripped her
And bit her
Stuck her with knives
In the side of the dawn
And tied her with fences
And dragged her down
I hear a very gentle sound
With your ear down to the ground—
We want the world and we want it,
We want the world and we want it, now
Now? Now!
Persian night! babe
See the light! babe
Save us!Jesus!
Save us!
So when the music's over
When the music's over, yeah
When the music's over
Turn out the light
Turn out the light
For the music is your special friend
Dance on fire as it intends
Music is your only friend
Until the end
Until the end
Until the end
So when the music's overWhen the music's over, yeahWhen the music's overTurn out the lightTurn out the light

Steve Miller Says

All the things
you think and do
have become a part of you
all your deeds have
come to pass
nothing lasts
like a river flowing
past your window pane
nothing's the same
it's very easy to tell
when you're sick and when
you're well
the secret to this life
is so very easy to learn
if you ever love another
never ask for anything
in return.

Steve Miller
Rock Musician

Impeccable Illusions

Stepping
dancing
darts
in the shadows
of street lights
stepping
dancing
pacing
piano notes
into
shots of Smirnoff
and another night
stretched into
the melancholy
cobalt
starless night
inking lonliness
and yesterday's sorrows
into
impeccable illusions
in the periphery
of my thoughts
that perfect
powder blue
earth tone's brown
tincture
for dreams' conspiracies
night chaotic
a savant song
deadening into sleep
the pain,
again.

Camus: depths of long days of brooding

From the writing of existentialist Albert Camus:

"And then it dawned on him that he and the man with him weren't talking about he same thing. For while he himself spoke from the depths of long days of brooding upon his personal distress and the image he had tried to impart had been slowly shaped and proved by the fires of passion and regret, this meant nothing to the man to whom he was speaking."

and from "The Absurd Man"

"'My field,' said Goethe, 'is time.' That is indeed the absurd speech. What, in fact, is the Absurd Man? He who, without negating it, does nothing for the eternal. Not that nostalgia is foreign to him. But he prefers his courage and his reasoning. The first teaches him to live without appeal and to get along with what he has; the second informs him of his limits. Assured of his temporally limited freedom, of his revolt devoid of future, and of his mortal consciousness, he lives out his adventure within the span of his lifetime."

What constitutes reality?

All such notions as causation, succession, atoms, primary elements...are all figments of the imagination and manifestations of the mind. -Buddha

Chloe - January 22, 2002 - July 28, 2006

My heart is broken today. Chloe, I lost you this week to a sudden illness. You were always by my side for the four years of your life, and I really cannot believe you will not be here. You are a beautiful girl, and I love you very much.

And, to my little boy Mac, our house seems very quiet, we will have to make some noise.

Oneness

I am he as you are he as you are me and we are all together. - The Beatles

Cast Your Fate to the Wind

A month of nights, a year of days
Octobers drifting into Mays
You set your sail when the tide comes in
And you cast your fate to the wind
You shift your course along the breeze
Won't sail up wind on memories
The empty sky is your best friend
And you just cast your fate to the wind
That time has such a way of changing a man throughout the years
And now you're rearranging your life through all your tears
Alone, alone
There never was, there couldn't be
A place in time for men to be
Who'd drink the dark and laugh at day
And let their wildest dreams blow away
So now you're old, you're wise, you're smart
You're just a man with half a heart
You wonder how it might have been
Had you not cast your fate to the wind

Cast Your Fate To the Wind
Steve Alaimo
Words by Carel Werber
Music by Vince Guaraldi
By the Vince Guaraldi Trio, the instrumental peaked at # 22 in 1963

Note From Justine

...we were possessed by a desire to communicate
ideas and experiences which overstepped the range
of thought normal to conversation among ordinary people.

Our intimacy was a strange mental order.

Discovering behind the darkly woven sensuality will be
a friendship so profound that we
shall become bondsmen forever.

...her efforts to achieve herself
led her always towards and not away
from him. The world has no place for this
sort of paradox.

Excerpts from "Justine"
by Lawrence Durrell
The 20th Century's finest fiction writer

A Secret

Where did the days go
free spirit days
when I was a secret
and no one knew
time was once
when I was free from
lords and kings.

I long to escape
into fiction and fantasy
to float on billowing
white ermine clouds,
diamond studed starground
dazzling the eye,
the sun reflecting light
through crystal prisms
with colors of the rainbow.

My spirit flies,
flies with the delicately
woven wings of a butterfly,
world of the ordinary ask not
too much from me,
I can compromise no more.

Taking a direct path

I always listen for what I can leave out.

Miles Davis

Remembering Stonedell

It's not like the farm...

Looking beyond lead framed windows
with the tears of the city's pollution
adding layers to the already somber day,
the sky projects a heavy gray mist
across the rooftops and
a cool current moves over me
as I watch
the movement of children on a path
across my yard.
Wires for communications
ornament leafless trees
houses peeling years of color
from their stationary stances.

Remembering
not so many days ago
hillside hues of summer green
wildflower yellows dotted violet,
majestic movements of sleek horses,
resting in the shade of giant oaks
countryside patterns of white fencing
with barns looking like
a picturesque daydream
lying back in a hammock
watching the butterflies dance.

The solitude on a country afternoon
seems so far removed
as the truck is unloaded with shouts
of frustrations
and the highway moves
its crowds and horns
and squealing tires.
Another day
the city sounds
come together...
a continous discordance.