Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

Thanks Steve. What an amazing time that must've been. Most of us, including, yes, myself at times (too often), are losing touch with the natural world, and are being assimilated into a creeping glaze of a virtual digital world. It's kind of shocking, the change(s) in just 2 decades. In 2005-06, when...

I wrote this some time ago,
after I'd been in the desert a while.
It's a (too thinly veiled?) protest
against mines interrupting my
road, even way out there.

Btw, there really is a Spirit Mountain
in the desert, south of Searchlight,
Nevada.

Spirit Mountain, over the desert. Spirit Mountain, the sacred rise. Nothing is sacred. Everything measured. Digits to the cent. Claimed. Maimed. Scooped. Scraped. I went to see the mountain, past pickets and thickets, and big guts muttering. "Those dam hippies." I reached the sacred mount. It was fe...

I've seen,
heard, felt,
holy moments
on hillsides,
mountainsides,
like wind through
creaking pines,
(a sound like a river),
like the cactus wren
on her saguaro perch,
who let me approach her,
like holy ringing silence
out in the big empty.

Desert Solitaire, definitely recommended. (Though honestly, he was kind of a jerk.)

Ignore the man behind the curtain.
Submit irrelevant suggestions into
the trash just beyond the entry.

I guess
the whole thing,
life itself, is a gamble.

Thanks Truck. He is definitely missed.

Hey Raymond. Happy birthday. No big point or statement here, just well wishes. And this reminds me of something that has always mystified me: how (exactly?) do you translate poetry between languages? That was something hard to wrap my brain around, I guess

I found moving rocks on a dry lake. Rocks that moved in the past. They had smudged trails. Maybe I saw them in a dream. I met Ed Abbey's ghost sitting on a rock. It had a smudged trail behind. No, they were real. Scientists obsessed over them. No one had ever seen them move. Silly obsession. It was ...

We all do it.

Oh, I get like this sometimes. Thinking that things fit into grandiose socio-political cause-effect patterns. Stateside and in the UK in particular, after two World Wars, Korea, and the Vietnam tragedy and draft, there was a real rejection of what seemed a dangerously accelerated extension of the sa...

Pretty much. That's when most of the damage was done

Rock music had a rebellion until no longer relevant. Life does that. It ripped off the blues and did shows and choked on its vomit, oh the drugs. Obviously it couldn't last. Oh the drink and drugs. Then synthesizers took over in the Year of Our Lord 1980s, yet yhe whole thing was still on trial afte...

Thanks Doreen. It's a shortened version of part of a long rambling "prose poem" (?) I wrote years ago.

This is the "turned up loud" side of the dub pulse. There is also a "turned down low" side, where reverb and echo seem to ripple out across the land. Either way, it fills an expanse.