to faith

monster greed sting

did you know there used to live here a long time ago there lived a giant who in hunger
was devouring every thing that lived and breathed. moose, bear, wild cats, mice all were food for the grotesque monster they tried to kill him but couldn’t pierce his heart, for it was found in his left heal. all creatures despaired of life.
it was in this miserable condition one of the last of the brave young men came forward in counsel and presented his plan. much loved for his kindness and bravery, the people at first cried out in protest not wanting to sacrifice the best of them to the worst monster. but being without any other choices with tears and prayers sent him to his fate. without fear he ran to sound of the giants foot falls, and lay down, feigning death in the giant’s path home, in order to be taken alive to learn of the giant’s weaknesses. the giant being fooled scooped the man up, saying with swollen pride, “ these people are so weak and afraid now they die from the sound of my feet. ha, i don’t even have to chase my dinner any more.”
the brave was dumped in the house. while the giant went outside to prepare his fire, his son came inside. immediately the brave leapt from his heap on the floor and put the giants own knife to the child who confessed his fathers’ weakness. just then the giant crossed the threshold, the man immediately stabbed the huge foot, over and over, till blood thick as rivers ran black down to the puget sound, and the giant fell dead. the giant who was about to devour all things was killed by man.
this giant though laughed with his head, “ i am a giant, ha! even dead i am hungry, i will eat flesh forever.”
“ oh no you won’t! the man retorted and pulling the giants hair cut off his head and threw it into the fire. then with the giants own knife cut the whole body into manageable
pieces throwing all into the fire and when it had burned down, scattered the ashes to the wind.
as the wind pulled the ash up into the air, the billowing cloud turned into a fog of buzzing mosquitoes. out of the cloud the man heard the giant still laughing,” HA, HA! i
am a giant, i’ll eat flesh for ever.”
that is why we have mosquitoes today. that is why mosquitoes are such a pain in the ass, swarming with the nature of giant behind them. and that is why i still have hope, because even if the giant’s hunger can never be killed, it can be changed from death to life if we act quickly.

heel high

she has all her weight
her twenty eight years of ass,
still heavy in her,
strong and fat in my hands
the horse rider
rode my
torso
i whirled her
once
then twice
carried and lowered her slowly
letting my
hands have the last dance
my arms bearing the load
till she landed
she was mine
but she’s not
gone
my fingers remember
the tension
the dance of light from
sweet eyes
lips, blurred pink
nations built on hope

jillnesses

father,
i spoke plainly to her cause she wanted
to live like a man............in a bachelors freedom
but she cried like a women
weeping about her sisters who had married well
hitched themselves to mounties
and computer programmers
and she herself was broke
destitute, without hope
of prosperity
i told her
“it’s a big world, you have to twist your head around
to see it”
then i jumped out of the decomposing el-camino
slammin that ricketty shit shut behind me
no sympathy from me, she pissed me off
with her self filled eye, that and her cigarette smoke
i know, i know
it’s a womans’ right to choose
but why does that political statement from women
have to mean death
is that too a modern feminine virtue. regardless
let all women and men know
when we accept freedom
we lose the right
to bitch about it’s results
there’s no crying in the
land of the brave

good people

don’t spend anymore money to fix the water
when the land under foot
is stomping
ground thin
beyond repair gravel touches sky
i implore you listen trees plead for reason
the cause a cause
caved in, bland flag
waving
it is
the american thing to scheme dream
a bling a ling thing
ding a ling thing
so
don’t twist your head round to
see it, please,
i beg you root to the rock
for good

edmonds on time

just as the mother walked to the window with her child
in her arms to watch the train go by, a man opened the door
entering the ferry terminal. at the precise moment the glass
hatch cracked to let the man pass, the train let go it’s
whistle roaring through town with all it’s colossal energy,
a deafening wall of sound pushed into the lobby. what would
have been a dramatic view of a close moving train was ruined
by the realities of the convergence of moments. the child screamed
hiding ears under hands and her face in her mothers neck. good
i thought, another mind chased from that romance with frankenstien.
train tracks x ferry terminal x down town corridor x natural
convergence zone = disaster.
equals edmonds edmonds
is a
train wreck
of
potentials

man puddles bout a mile apart above kingstons watershed with nothig to mitigate the toxic soups descent cept another road

love bone

nash/nash


i’m in love

with your magic

don’t laugh

cause it’s tragic

like crack for

an addict

the freaks

gotta have it

i’m bleedin

you stabbed it

numb cause you

smacked it

stoned since you

grabbed it

my soul since

you jacked it

ran off n

stashed it

like cash in

the attic

bon bons

n fat chicks

the passion

we have it

don’t bad act it

just pass habit

love bone

hickety pickit

oooh,

she’s turned on
her cattle prod
i find it odd
and applaud when
she rides
rough shod down
hickory stick
stealin cheap tricks from a
chick named
vick

all she wants is money
she don’t give
a shit
bout the clothes
i wear
or whose clit i
split
she’s the kinda woman
give other chicks fits
with her spankity
ass
and
her lickity tits

walk this way

stumbling out of the woods feet first, nettles and briers walked
beat that path worse, my
legs still burn red fire welt where knee wholes let the life in
a dance of gestures
with feet
found in a world unprepared for booted heals
a peace perfect world of screaming trees and eagle dreaming
the fat doe finds
her way too, herself a crackle of released energy in the tight wood.
it is temperate forest at sea level. like eden in the clear blue
north wind, these shy spots hold the den of the slight fox carved
in cedar, a hush of forest old as dirt, vibrant in it's flux,
the sand banks always falling in water
from laying in the saw grass in the beach sun warm
to find coffee and internet and so you
took me hrs. of day
"suddenly i'm atop my cage stretching my wings my physical body
is no longer the center of my attention.", i heard her speak
i live in paradise, my soul alive
with singing

earth day views two times two

governor my earth idea,
run the ferry half the time on the kingston run every 80 minutes not forty
discourage traffic, back it up, slow it down 6 months a year. it would:
> save the state money not paying for all those dry runs. it costs twice as
much to run an half empty boat
> slow down the tourist traffic so'd they actually spend money in kingston,
right now they barely have time to wait in line for a crepe.
> reduce by near half the toxic run off from excessive ferry traffic on hwy. 1o4,
that spills into apple tree cove, especially during our rainy season
> let kingston ( and surrounding region ) grow at a natural sustainable level with it's own regional economy not propped up on some developers dream of a free ride
quit subsidizing the ferry system

grease rags drag faggin

how do say fuck you politely
so the other
gets it
without taking offense
but they understand it's personal
they be the prick
you be the dick
the slick sick lick
a thick nose pick
the damn dip stick
as fast as agencies can clean the water
so fish and foul
find food
for eating
or clean beach for breeding
you multiply your efforts
to do your
drive by
they can't keep up
the water dies inside
your real estate scheme
fuck you
go find somewhere else to fuck off to
you and your gasoline magic you be the ditch witch
your belch of diesel
black against the green
your giant house
planted led heavy
black hole dense
even stone is sand neath the weight of your foot
fuck you

suk!wa'bc reservations required

it’s occupied,
every inch of ground these woods i see out my window
“ no vacancy “
the sign reads in sound
day and night
each has its
resident revelers,
takers and talkers
spending all to be spot on
even a spotted owl i’ve spotted squatted
branched with a territorial view
i know saying you’ve seen ‘em
makes loggers crazy,
like drunken sailors standing bandy legged pan handed saying,
“ how dare they?
let me at em! “

but they must’ve heard too
from being in the woods
so long without reason
the tale told by the old indian
that we were taught by the bear how to eat
so we
eat
and we
eat
we eat all that we see
the tale relating as it goes
speaks that in greed feeding
it happened we didn’t heed the cycle of nothing
the ancestors would repeat;
“ to hibernate
is to cultivate
the art of deep sleep “

so it’s the end then, we just won’t make it
unless we
change
face
to eat like the
fox
or coyote
which means
we’d no longer be masters
just brothers
to the bear, the raven, and others
calling, crawling, sprawling, like buildings are falling
a choking of cities screaming in season greeting, the small woods always speak
just outside, down the road,
the world beyond
your streets

fuzzy pharoah

six six sick

americans
we consume
like its
6 times the planet that it really is

which means we should live as we do for
1,1666 days a week
and live as nothing the other
6 days
to bring ourselves into alignment with reality
native americans
call it balance

you can call it ‘prudence’ if you want to

everytime you put your glasses on and roll to
work you look out at a
planet that’s really
6 times
smaller
than you think it is
and politicians want to export our ideas so everyone can see
like us, hmnnn... no. you don’t get to, which six planets
do they get to use?
learn your cave better, touch the earth where she bleeds

black eye spied

oil spill technology

on my way to coffee walkin on a small path behind the bank of america
leading me to cross hwy. 104 in kingston. the water from this mornings
rain and snow mix used the same trail on its way down
to apple tree cove, the anxious little stream shining in the early gray light
with a cool thin petroleum sheen. you don't give two spits
about an oil spill on the puget sound. you do it every day with a lot of
other things on your mind. so just now you want to prepare for a worst case
scenario? we are the worst case scenario.

black water ignorance of politics

1. 
   

little pool stump

hot topic

natures solar paneling
traps energy
converting it to life
everything for others
mans solar paneling
heats his bathtub
everything for himself

the hooligan

I'm sorry momma

the friend the girl friend

must have pissed off the pope

more blurry monsters, hater playin a benni