

all we knowAll we knowall we know
The thriftstore/garbage Furniture held us comfortably As we spent out first night Catching up in conversation And away from exhaustion
This journey was my farthest And in joy I was resting my eyes In the presence of brotherhood Feeling the familial essence Allowing laughter, always laughter
We roamed through your new life And I heard of the toil To protect the earth The true soul spinning on
To the recollection of flame; August is dry season and it approaches quickly
But now we eat easy meals,
T


the walkaboutIn sacred lands I shall wander, I shall walk.the walkabout
I hold onto your words hearing the sweetness of sleep as you drift in and out listening to the drip drop of my ranting voice
if those brave ancestors walked across the land I wonder about the blasphemy of planes; I urge to wander to you passing the sacred sites naming them all
because like Magritte's birds I am the metamorphosis of the earth and the ashes
I crossed desert canyons peering through the haze above and I felt thirst as grandfather had felt thirst  


I went to the sea for clarityI went to the sea for clarityI went to the sea for clarity
Except it wasnt the rough sea; it was the arm of a harbour in the sunset I was safe
I went to the sea for clarity and I was distracted
by boats and camera clicks as flip flops came and went
I tried to pour my mind out mixing confusion into the sea; the reflections were beyond eyesight; blind I stretched out breathing silence
On the walk home I felt resolved feeling the glorious waves of that frequent uncertainty
-matthew Baker
--
Whoso would be a man must be a non-conformist - Emerson
--
"Writing is only boring to the people who are boring themselves."
--Unknown
"Writing is a socially acceptable form of schizophrenia."
--E.L. Doctorow
Feeling lucky, punk? [link]
~Aria Licophanie
Previous PageNext Page