Hairshirt

I am not the type of dog
That could keep you waiting
For no good reason
Run a carbon black test on my jaw
And you will find
It’s all been said before
I can swing my megaphone
And long arm the rest
It's easier and better
To just beat it from the chest
Of desire
I could walk into this room
And the waves of conversation
Are enough to knock you down
In the undertow
I’m so alone
So alone in my life
Feed me banks of light
And hang your hairshirt
On the lowest rung
It's a beautiful life
And I can hang my hairshirt
Away up high in the attic
Of the wrong dog's life chest
Or bury it at sea
All my life
I've searched for this
Here I am
Here I am in your life
It's a beautiful life
My life
It's a beautiful life
Your life.


(m. stipe)

Los Picos

Part of the Picos de Europa, a mountain range that runs through Cantabria and Asturias in Northern Spain.

Click for full-size. Pretty amazing mountains, eh? What Asturias lacks in sheer elevation is makes up for in dramatic peaks and sudden elevation changes, lush valleys snaking through snowy shards of stone poking out of the earth at all angles. Lots of nice granite, shale, and even limestone... a geologist's dream!

In the wake

of adversity lies an opportunity,
a rebirth
the story is old, but it metamorphosed
when I told it

a sun rises, it knows nothing
but the people believe in something that
is grander than themselves
feelings are everything

ask Galileo on a moonlit night
or Kepler
if his elliptic tides are right, are precise;
ask Newton,

ask Feynman if your math's all right
Penrose, Einstein
the point is the lesson
that they are only brilliantly guessing

Seneferu, Khafre
Imhotep did the same thing
Sargon and the Maccabees
could see clearly the fog ahead of them

so please,
put away your mindset
and open up to another set of minds
and if you follow the Duat

and remember the names,
and your training
you may make immortality yet
not that you would want it.

It gets cold.

All waves view old, warm shores
Father returning.
Adventure is a sunny captain
Adventure is a lively ship.

Rise calmly like a hungry gull.
Seashells sail!

You keep waiting
The temperature is dropping.

Why does the sun travel?
Faith, love, and life.
Where is the sunny beach we dreamt of?
Winds endure like rough sailors.
Where is the dead captain I use to salute?

I’m afraid it gets cold
Down here where we think
More than we were ordered.
More than we should have mutinied – even us.

In a cylinder of steel who couldn’t
After many months,
Spare a few thoughts
To the existential plight of
Being or not-being, seeing or being blind?

Mu! Moo!
All attempts fail
I realized it all in my dreams and
The waves lap happily forever
Compared to human lifetimes.

Autumn

Procession

There is no end to this
I have seen your face
But I don't recognize all these things
You must have left behind

It's a problem, you know
That's been there all your life
I try to make you see the world without you
That's just so black and white.

At night it gets cold and
I'd dearly like to turn away
An escape that fills
That makes you want to turn on heel

Alone, alone, alone, alone.

There is no end to this
I can't turn away
Another picture but the scene
It's still the same

There is no room to move
Or try to look away
Remember life is strange
And life keeps getting stranger every day.

I try so hard but this attitude's
A type that won't subside
No matter what they say, remember
Your heart beats you day and night

Your heart beats you day and night.

(B. Sumner)