Are you receiving me?






How long you last matters less

Than that you lived when you were here

The world does everything it can

To lock you into a lifeless life

Just surviving is an accomplishment

Living, however

That’s an art

The electricity of every moment

Must be savored and consumed

Every sight, sound, texture, and scent

Is there specifically to be received

By you

Collect experiences

Find love

Have something remarkable to take with you

When you go back to source.



Words and image are my own.






Fire #3





Alpine Ash


Fire brought the light

And burned down the house

That was ever the deal

Sometimes, that which drives back shadows

Sets the curtains alight

Its all consuming nature is an ever-present threat


Fire can also temper steel

When she came, she set a bushfire in my mind

That tore through my body and soul but

Left me standing

Stronger than before


There’s a type of tree – back home

With seeds like stones

That can only open when the raging flames

Reach the canopy

It takes a literal conflagration to achieve germination

Throwing out life

Into the midst of utter devastation

We two are like that tree

Finding new ways to live

As everything around us withers

And dies.



Words and image are my own.






I’m reblogging this post, not because I felt it was particularly well written but because I have added a substantial number of photographs since I first published it.

Runaway American Dream

IMG_4192 The Battle of Princeton Monument.

This great State in which I now live, was the crossroads of the Revolution. More battles were fought over New Jersey soil than over any other of the thirteen colonies. Places like Trenton, Princeton, Springfield, and, Monmouth were the sites of some of the most crucial battles of the struggle. Trenton and Princeton are where the tide finally turned in favor of the patriots.

Not four miles from where I type this, is a place where Washington stayed while his army was camped at White House, just down the road (sadly the house burned down in the 1960s but a commemorative sign still marks the spot).

Six miles in a different direction and you find Solitude House, High Bridge. This was another house where Washington (and his wife Martha) is known to have visited as well as General Lafayette, Colonel Charles Stewart, and Aaron…

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Strange fascinations






You were the Moon

And I the ocean

Your gravity pulled me in waves

Around the Earth

Inexorably towards

The point in space where

Heartlines cross

You pulled me upwards in tiny drops

Until the all of me

Hung in the air beside you

There we shone like polished silver

Until all the stars went home.



Words and image are my own.






I hope I



as above 3


As above


Sometimes life is just a dream

Of life

The air shimmers and sparkles

The sky takes on mysterious depths

And we float

Past russet shores

In a self-induced trance

Our boat is made of all we think we know

And it’s taking on water

We apprehend that it may soon slide between the surfaces

Those deeper shadows have an irresistible gravity

And already have a grip upon the mooring line

Rudderless, lacking oars with which to make a shift

We drift

Across the mirror

Never looking into the glass

For fear our world has been upended

And that the water around our ankles

May not be water at all.






Words and image are my own.





Ant music




All unaware


There is an antlion at the center of the world

Poised hungrily at the bottom of a slippery slope

We ants march unawares

Assuming naively our footing is secure

Then the sands begin to shift

And gravity takes hold of us

We tumble


Towards the jaws of inevitability

Without ever understanding

Why this doom has overtaken us

We are humble strivers and builders

We have no notion that others prefer to build traps

Even as the jaws close about us

We largely fail to understand the nature of our demise

Cursing as we go the cruel randomness of fate


There is no chance or luck to this design

Even if we blindly avoid the pit

Another waits beyond and another beyond that

And we small ants keep marching

Serene in our purpose

Trusting our place in the order of things




Don’t tread on an ant

He’s done nothin’ to you

There might come a day when he’s treadin’ on you

Don’t tread on an ant

You’ll end up black and blue

You cut off his head, legs come lookin’ for you.


Words are my own. Lyrics; Adam and the Ants. Image; randomly acquired from the internet.



Kind of blue





All unwitnessed


Crystalline reflections

Glitter like diamonds in the deep blue

Skeleton woods reach up with twisted fingers

Towards the waning moon

The night is silent


No bird calls

No fox bark echoes across the surface

Of this virgin snow

Only the occasional crack of a branch

That has given up the ghost

Disturbs the cold serenity

Of these midnight barrens.



Words and image are my own.