Sticking (Or Playing With Words)

We stick together like glue,We, who don’t know what to do.We wander, or dance, in dimly lit halls,Entranced in mirrorsLooking askancearticulatingexpressionismAcutely certain of myself.Don’t think too hard–you’ll hurt yourself–When you smile until your face cracks.Forget the facts;stretched like rubber bands,truth dances on wire.we stand, arms erect,with fishing netsbelow.(Just let it falluntil you findwhat you are…

An Ode to My Tevas

One of the weird subjects you end up discussing when backpacking are your own feet. Specifically, you talk a lot about footwear. For example, I figured out many years ago that I hate flipflops and would rather go barefoot than wear uncomfortable shoes (which I have done many times). Nothing ruins a trip faster than…

In Northern Mississippi

Playing with poetry, writing from the Delta. In Northern Mississippi,folks smile and wave.They tip their capsand let you go in frontof themin line. In Northern Mississippi,clouds burst forthfrom blue skieslike cotton candyon sticks of sun-rays.And when it rains,it pours,and dust sticksin your teeth. Dogs bark here,and construction mengrownin fast Spanish–I cannot understand–but I smile to…

Backpackers Unite!

Backpackers unite!Crowds of tall, blonde andcurly, strong merry wanderers,balloon pants wave andtattoos adorn. See their beards and long hairblow in the dusy wind,Lit cigarettes fall to the earthbeneath elephant feetand ancient temple sand-stones. “Another beer, please!” They cheers–Proust! Salud! from the balconyas dark skinned locals pourthem shotsand dancethe merengue. ““““““`The List “One, two, trois!”Take a…

The Day After A Day of Rain

The day after a day of rainis the best day of the yearfor a few moments when everything is clear. And the sun stretches my muscles,and the wind tousles my hairand my dress flutters against meFloating, floating on air. And my feet dance in their sandalsand my toes wriggle like wormsand my nails shine like…

In Poetry Class…

-W.H. Auden Another Adventure: Exploring the world with compassion and curiosity.

This Is Just To Say

“I have eaten the plumsthat were inthe iceboxand whichyou were probablysavingfor breakfastForgive methey were deliciousso sweetand so cold” -William Carlos Williams Another Adventure: Exploring the world with compassion and curiosity.

"Every tear on every cheek tastes the same."

I’m learning.Do you ever feel that life is so beautiful you can’t conceive it? It’s all some great mystery that you will never fully grasp, no matter how hard you try, it is always in vain. As I drive down the road in the dusk (apropos in its name: Pleasant Hill), the trees curling one…

What is that that calms me down?It’s my own two feet, you see.Why should I not make a sound?You’re not good enough for me.My schedules and my planningsare the way I run my head.But the world around me turns, somehow,while I put butter on my bread.The rhymes begin to calm me;the clouds begin to part.There’s…