Tag Archives: thoughts

On The Back Of Gold Wrapping Paper


I am learning not to talk so much, need for explanation

I get tongue-tied when I think of you

West of Eden, East of where I wanna be

Say what I mean what I say

I can think back and feel bad

Bad things don’t happen to good people they just happen

The Artist Manifesto (Spoken Word)

An audio reflection recorded March 30, 1997 after watching “The English Patient.”

A 2016 PeaceGrooves Production
All Rights Reserved

Swimming In Circles


going nowhere
but i get to know the swimscape really well

a dizzy exploration
but the vortex does ripple out

in my own spinning orb
yet the self waves touch others

(perhaps the “progress” of this watery merry go round is only bound by my perception)

Here There Be Bumps


Where did we get the idea that the road would always be smooth?

We move right along, the scenery a blur, focused on the destination, when suddenly we are jarred back into the present.

Sometimes there is a sign. Sometimes there is no warning.

Either way the message is the same.

Slow down.

Take a breath.
Look around.
Ease over the obstacle.

And only then,
Move on.

But be aware,
Other bumps await just around the next bend.



I sit down to a movie in a theater full of strangers and watch the thunderbolts of true love flash across the screen. I laugh. I cry. When the movie is over, I feel a strange sense of satisfaction. I am one of the first to leave and do so in a daze, out past the smiling usher and into the street.

The pavement shines like glass and diamonds sparkle on the parked cars. It has rained during the movie. The drought is finally broken. I look inside myself and find that something has changed in me as well. I can think of lost love, memories, and loneliness and not feel pain. I do not know how or why or what has made the change, but I hold the feeling ever so tightly to my chest in hopes that it will never go away.

It is a long drive home and I am glad. I do not want this moment to end. It is strange, this feeling, more like a joyful sadness, a mixture of laughter and tears.  The search for oneself and another in these times is indeed a sweet and sour thing, not good or bad, only life.  We must live it and love it as best as we can.

I used to believe in someday, but I do not know if I do now. All I have is today. Yesterday is past and I can change nothing. Tomorrow awaits, but again I have no control over what may or may not happen. I can plan, but even then there is no guarantee that my plans will flower or my dreams bear fruit.

So I have today to do with what I can, to learn more of who and where I am. If lightning strikes, I will bathe in the electric sea. But I will not wait for the sulphured ray. I will do what I can today and let the fire fall where it may.

The rain has stopped. I roll down the windows of my van and let the night breeze blow through my hair, baptism of breath for this moment. 

Then I drive slowly, ever so slowly, home.

June 14, 1994
Rolling Ridge