how one is my world

http://vimeo.com/moogaloop.swf?clip_id=2539741

scars don't show in the dark

the
rain
today
made
me
recall
my
first
teaching
position.
Churdan,
Iowa.
a
world
away
from
any
pulse.
but
there
i
was.
and
on
one
of
the
first
nights
there
i
drifted
from
my
apartment
atop
the
towns
idea
of
Iowa
chic
and
followed
the
neon
glow
of
light
caressing
its
object,
a
baseball
field,
with
warmth
and
purpose.
and
it
was
raining.
and
it
all
seemed,
well,
new,
and
fresh,
welcoming,
and
for
the
time
being
that
was
just
perfect.

Untitled

Somehow
the
citrus
blossoms
scent
drifted
here.
It
is
what
got
me
every-
time.
The
joyous
consciousness
of
renaissance.

dah-dah-dah-dahhh

Arriving
and
being
whisked
away
in
a
67'
Buick
Riveria
nicknamed
Silver
Cloud
the
silver
leather
upholestry
still
holding
warmth
with
window
down
and
desert
wind
rushing
in
my
ears;
The
thaw
began.
Sun
warmed
my
bones
and
magazines
piled
next
to
me.
There
was
friendship
picked
right
up
where
it
had
been
left.
And
laughter.
Lots
of
laughter.
Good
food
and
wine.
And
time
just
slightly
passed
until
I
folded
up
the
sun
in
a
neat
little
package
and
slipped
it
into
my
pocket.
And
cascaded
back
home,
unwrapped
it,
and
its
spirit
settled
in
a
place
where
I
knew
it
would
be
for
awhile.
And
under
my
breath
I
hum,
"Here
comes
the
sun."
And
then,
audibly
sing,
"dah-
dah-
dah-
dahhh."

Progress

The
sun
made
ice
snap
as
crows
cawed
in
the
background
and
drips
of
melting
snow
played
a
little
tune
and
growth
was
happening
it
always
is.

These Things make me Happy

An
impromptu
Oscar
party.
A
mother
calling
to
tell
me
that
I
was
doing
good
work.
Sun
that
holds
some
warmth.
Longer
days.
Earlier
mornings.
A
friend's
joke.
He
had
gone
into
have
a
procto
exam
and
as
the
doctor
inserted
his
finger
he
started
singing,
"Oh,
sweet
mystery
of
life
I've
finally
found
you."
Finding
out
that
the
one's
whose
kiss
lingered
vanished
because
he
was
intimidated
by
my
looks.
Flattering
but
still
baffling.
Postcards
from
San
Francisco.
Two
weeks
until
Palm Springs
and
warm
bones.
All
of
you
who
open
up
your
arms.
My
friend
Linda
turns
50.
The
one
whose
soul
is
more
beautiful
than
ever.
The
banana
cream
pie
I
am
making.
Greta.
My
beautiful
parents.
Secret
thoughts.
And
the
promise
of
new
growth.

long awaited spring

It
was
the
kind
of
day
whose
sun
held
promise.
The
breeze
attempted
to
carry
spring.
The
kind
of
day
that
as
a
boy
I
would
go
exploring.
I would
let
entire
days
escape
exploring
the
ravine
behind
our
house.
It
held
years
of
disgarded
items
too
big
to
deal
with
in
any
other
fashion.
Old
Model
Ts,
and
gigantic
Buicks,
and
a
ramshackle
of
people's
desire
for
materials
past
along
to
the
elements.
For
a
boy
who
had
just
read
Boxcar
Children
they
seemed
like
palaces
of
escape.
There
was
to,
of
course,
nature
to
be
found.
Orange
fungus
glowing
against
black
Oak.
In
the
summer
I
would
run
through
it
naked.
As
a
boy,
on
a
day
like
this,
I
would
go
exploring.
Here's
to
hoping
I
still
am.