From Notebooks

All Words Were Meant to be Read

The Broom of the System

Excerpt from some of the most ridiculously brilliant dialogue ever. 

"GOVERNOR: Gentleman, we need a desert.


Governor: Gentleman, a desert. A point of savage reference for the good people of Ohio. A place to fear and love. A blasted region. Something to remind us of what we hewed out of. A place without malls. An Other for Ohio’s Self. Cacti and scorpions and the sun beating down. Desolation. A place for people to wander alone. To reflect. Away from everything. Gentleman, a desert.

MR. OBSTAT: Just a super idea, chief.

GOVERNOR: Thanks, Neil. Gentleman may I present Mr. Ed Roy Yancey of Industrial Desert Design, Dallas. They did Kuwait.”


A great Juniper tree grew at the edge of a vast canyon. Its roots meandered through the rocky cliff face, winding out over oblivion and reaching back, deep into the earth.

It grew as tall and wide as its perch would allow. Branches twisted, gnarled, and covered in shredded bark like flayed mummy skin reached over the edge toward the Sun. They extended only as far as balance allowed, for if the wise Juniper grew too large, it would fall and pull the world down into the canyon with it.

You see, this tree grew at the edge of a universe. In the lands between realms where reality thins and ideas reign. The Juniper had been growing for billions of years. It’s roots were the foundation of a whole world. Through ages of mistakes and close calls, it had found a balance.

A snowy owl lived in its branches. The owl whispered tales of the world the tree upheld. One day the owl warned of approaching people from the far off lands where the stars don’t shine. Their cities blocked them out, separating the people from the heart of their universe.

The next night, fires were visible in the distance.

The people had come.

As dawn unfolded, a man approached the tree. He cradled a collection of branches in his arms. Fuel for their fires.

He reached the base of the tree and dropped his firewood. A hatchet appeared in his hand.

He placed it on the ground and kneeled in front of the Juniper and said, “Our cities have crumbled. We ignored the law of balance. We have cast ourselves back into darkness and mysteries bite at our heels once more. I came to you for fuel, but I cannot take from you. You teeter on the edge of an abyss, you grow and stand strong against the storms of time… This is what my people must do now. None shall take from your body to build our fires. We will make you a symbol of hope and you will remind our generations of the balance.”

The man kissed his palm and held it to the base of the tree. He gathered his hatchet and firewood before walking back to the east, into the rising Sun.

The owl whispered to the tree, “There is still hope for them after all.”


Jacque was hunting the creature that froze other living beings with the slightest touch. He had tracked it through his home town, following the trail of frozen bodies and questioning those left stunned in the background. He held a weapon that would subdue the creature so that he could safely extract its blood.  Without the blood,  Jacque wouldn’t be able to revive his wife and daughter that he had been forced to abandon, with aborted screams frozen on their faces.  It was headed to the shore, intending to turn the oceans of the world to ice. The last survivor explained that the creature had been there only 5 minutes before. Jacque was closer than he had been all day and a hint of salt rode his inhale as he began to run south into the marshlands.

An alarm went off and Isabella woke from her sleep. The glowing digits informed her that it was 6:00am and the rough fabric of her pillow reminded her of where she was. Jake had been in a coma for a week now and they still hand’t found a bone marrow donor with the same rare blood type. Maybe today would be the day things changed. 

based on this prompt.

Ocean Dreams

Last night we watched an ocean peel back from its bed

In vertigo-inducing seconds it revealed a new reality of canyons and plains

Now standing on a mountain top that was once a rocky shoreline

Green fields surrounded an inviting civilization in the distance

One that had adapted to dry land

It didn’t even occur to me that this should not be

Until I realized the ocean would have to return

We scrambled as the monolith rushed toward us  

That glimpse of a new reality washed away by the return of another

What if I had stepped towards that impossible moment?

story bits

story bits

A little thing

They forgot that life was consumption. Their palate continued to change and their appetite evolved towards things they didn’t understand. Nourishment became provided by information and brief electronic connections. Money fed their souls, poisons filled their stomachs, and soot coated their lungs. Their need to consume changed the air they breathed, the water they drank, and the environment that provided the necessary products for life. In the span of a few centuries the necessities had been ignored and left for ruined in the shadows of their civilization. The things they consumed ended up consuming them. 


While the consumption of cigarettes has slowly gone down over the years, the consumption of cigars has been skyrocketing since 1993. Looks like those rich habits are becoming richer.

Pressure gets everything off

Fractured thinking ways

Opening cracks in the mind

Force reconciliation

Spanning eons, wey

Airborne seas of flame bursting

Out there in the ether

Galaxies spin round

Filled with possibility

Eating others alive

Releasing the bringers of life

Atoms, Molecules, Water, Acids, Bases,

Blargh…not so good at this right now… maybe ok earlier…not many people will read “wey” as Mexican for dude…

Inspired by Ed

"This filthy country-I no longer feel any loyalty toward it’s institutions. I only wish I were free, had the power to live elsewhere. Hiroshima, Nagasaki-this-the moral power of this country is low, terribly low. Worse than in slavery days.

 And law or not, no matter how legal, the murder of the Rosenbergs violates a higher law.

What loyalty I still have for “America” takes this form:

I love the land-it’s great rivers, plains, mountains, and the ineffable desert; I love my friends, my kin, my unknown allies- I will stand by them to the end.

But for the cities, for our schools and churches and industries, for the government, for the meaningless documents embalmed of the past, for the mass of hucksters and enterprisers-no love. Fuck them. No loyalty. I will not defend them”

^ From the journals of Edward Abbey circa 1953.

a statement i can jive with, although my list of specific qualms with society has had 56 years to grow exponentially , the core remains the same. 

I love the earth, my family, my friends & allies, and those who have yet to be a positive part of my life. I exist to stand with them in whatever form I can, however distant we may be, through whatever situations may arise.

I have no love for the collectively twisted tenets of progress and growth, for their justifications, or for their defense. No love exists to be found there except in misguided madness


(from a few years ago)


Once you accept that thought can elicit a direct reaction from the physical world, without any apparent physical mechanism, except maybe the influence they can have on other thought-like processes….well that is when you have to start thinking realllly, really  carefully. …

Epitaph for Plum

If a house could implode

from the amount of stories stuffed within its walls,

this would be the one.


The Long Meeting

Slowly cracking cans

Timidly impolite but

The bubbles refresh


I haven’t read all of the books I want to read

I haven’t listened to all of the music I want to hear

I haven’t visited all of the places I want to go

I haven’t known all of the people I want to know

I haven’t had all of the conversations I want to have 

I haven’t loved all of the ones I want to love

I’ve never crossed an ocean

I’ve never even stood beside the Pacific

I haven’t fixed all of my faults

The list goes on forever..

So what have I done?

I’ve learned to look at these as opportunities instead of problems.

Wouldn’t it be worse if there was nothing left to do? Like the feeling you get at the end of a favorite book, but in real life. I don’t think I could handle that.

The End

I corrected him, pointing out that his actions had just caused the whole situation to collapse. 

There was a moment of shock, then recognition, then a smile. He apologized to my wife and I before walking away from the scene. 

"Goddammit. He thinks that simply by accepting responsibility for his actions, he is absolved of them. Did you see that smile?"

"I did, and you know what? He may be right" the woman said as she turned to watch their former friend off into the distance.

"You can’t change the past. What more can you do?" she asked.

The man would not accept this.

"He could have stayed and helped" he said.

"Oh, he knew that you would never tolerate that." sighed Isabella. 

Zack couldn’t deny this. Revenge had been promised before he had been able to clear his head.

"How is it that he made the mistake which led us here, and I feel at fault?" 

"Because none of us are innocent of faulty actions. We can only be conscious of our intentions and do our best. Sometimes it just isn’t enough. He may have made the original mistake, but you matched him. You displayed a lack of awareness as great as his when you declared the end of your friendship" explained Isabella. 

"But, he smiled at the realization of his mistake. He didn’t feel as badly as I do right now. I could have handled this better, but he’s not even upset because of some bullshit, self-absolution cop-out." Zack struggled.

"How do you know that the sun isn’t warming his tears as we speak? asked Isabella. 

"Zack, did you ever stop to think that the reason he told that lie in the first place was because he feels as bad as you do right now?" 


March Madness. (click to enlarge)
[N.B.: this works best read from left to right—and then just choose your own poetry adventure.]


March Madness. (click to enlarge)

[N.B.: this works best read from left to right—and then just choose your own poetry adventure.]