thoughts of volume

Thoughts cross the sky
envelop
the microscopic developing
day creating
sun protecting
area of energy

entreating wind
inflating clarity

can they become stellar winds
when they travel intergalactically?
to see where sunshine begins?

only thoughts exist in nothing
(stars sparkle in between)
the universe is empty
there's the cosmos and there's me

and nonsensicalifornia
obviously

until the water runs clear

running
caffeinated deer
obsessive compulsive gear
an abrupt

lend me your ear and I'll clear it up

smooth talk
a shoulder bump

scroll down

wake up

sky sky sky                                       sky            sky


sky       cloud                                                          sky


cloud cloud cloud                                                      moon
cloud cloud cloud cloud cloud
clouds
                                                                                     sky
                  sun
sign
            tree
     building                                                   tree         tree
            building                                                   tree
fence fence fence fence fence fence fence tree

Abstract Expressionism

he chortled he chortled

I thwarted his laughter

my timing my timing

some kind of disaster

Cacophony bologna licorice lettuce

arugula spinach tatertot

worst salad ever.

the volume says “You deserve forever”

whatever! where’s my sweater?

it’s yogurt. Forget it.

otter pops you know which one?

sir isaac lime, alexander the grape

the plastic sticky, the dew drops wrinkled

the haziness clerical

the timing terrible

the anger laughable

the chortle I ridicule

suffocating the comical

so what if the paperclips

fell from the table

the dust, the litter, the crust, the glitter

get the broom the broom clean up this room--

paperclip the ice cream

in seven divisions

choices to make

nuts to roast, fishes to bake,

sixteen incisions in fifteen cakes

the party, the uproar, the drawers, don’t look--

Unmentionables? Be quiet.

decency                Would you believe he said that to me

right back after this break

The photos are drying for ten thousand years

negative retrieval singing and meanwhile my ears ringing

the paperclips

still

ice cream dew drops plastic musical

forensic romaine brassieres channels whales

channel bales of hay channels what’s in the clay channels

 candy coated fennel seed glass shattered on

clementine sea salt commotion floor

Story at the Samples Stand

Keep it short--
they've got places to be.

Trim it back--
they've got people to see.

Impact--

And then some days feel long-form. I stopped at Trader's Joe's on my way home from work.  At the free-samples stand, I took a sample, turned around, and then couldn't leave because people and shopping carts were too close to me. An older woman with a very quiet voice and smeared red lipstick asked if I was all right, and moved back, and asked if I was very sensitive--she can tell these things because she is an artist, she said.

I said, "Yes, I think I am sensitive, but right now, just really hungry."

She said, "I'm very intuitive. Where are you from?"  "Oh they have marvelous choirs. The chorales. Are you musical? Yes, I thought so." and "Do you know the ballet dancer, Pavlova? My mother was a dancer. My mother was born in 1917, and she was a psychic, but she didn't know it."

"How did you know it?"

"She'd just say something and you'd know. What's your name?"

"Katie." I sipped my mini coffee that was still too hot.

I like to hear from different perspectives, and she was happy to keep talking as I drank my hot little coffee.  And after a couple minutes of chatting about music and how her husband taught literature but she wasn't one to read, she explained some theories about corruption, politics, and a real homosexual communist mafia takeover about to happen in the United States, complete with offensive remarks about minorities and people with particular health issues. It was terrible, and saddening. Cup into the trashcan, but still smiling, I let her know I needed to be running.

"Katie, right? Have you ever heard of the model, Kate Moss? ..." Waves her hands in the air, oblivious to others shoppers around her--including children who were oblivious to her.

"Oh yeah, Kate Moss... oh wow, I had no idea. Okay, take care!"

But after all the garbage, what would you say? What would you want to say? What would you want to actually have said?

I didn't want to say anything... but now I just feel weird. I disagreed but declined to give my own opinion. I wouldn't change her mind, I thought. Too hungry, anyway, and my shoulder was aching because I'd been carrying the shopping basket which was full of fruit and milk.

She thought we were having a pleasant conversation, but her words were hurtful.

Principles to live by: honesty, compassion, and justice.

Actions speak louder than words. I smiled with her but was appalled. Key term: cognitive dissonance. Probably why it's bothering me right now. Next time I'll say, "that's offensive." And maybe mention compassion and justice. Education.

Oh--blueberries, bananas, and peaches, in case you were wondering.

Reflection

What do you know about it already?

What are your expectations for what you'll learn?

What did you learn?

What surprised you?

What was puzzling?
Was anything disappointing?

Challenging?

What ideas do you have?

What else could be cool?

What can it become?

What would that need?

What challenges would you foresee?

What problems might others have with this?

How could we navigate around those, or overcome them?

What do you enjoy?

Why?

How are those connected?

What else is connected?

How did that go?

What would you have done differently?

What if we took a different perspective?

Who should we talk to?

Tranquility

please do not miss
the pathways to bliss

the morning glories
the stories

rainy July 17

heavy clouds

thick raindrops

principles
in shadow and light

pondering
nature
tranquility
constancy

clarity

the Tao Te Ching--

tranquility is called returning to one's nature
returning to one's nature is called constancy

knowing constancy is called clarity (16)

anyway

Backspace

Cut it back
Cut it out
Delete
Undo
Backspace that

Alt F4, this one--
Shut it down.
Throw it to the ground.

Dust picks itself up
Some abrupt invigoration
of winds

Clean it up.
Minimize it.
Simplify it.

Coordinate it to a structure,
Create a detailed picture

but keep it short
brief
a single leaf.

Quick Notes over Quick Oats

Gotta grow with my soul sisters, gotta roll with the possibilities and shape them into histories we can be proud of.

Speaking of possibilities and soul sisters--

--the one and only Christina Aguilera with Herbie Hancock in "A Song for You" from Possibilities.

Oh Nonsensicalifornia! I love that Christina's initials are C.A. just like California's.

*eyes roll* ... I know I know

Captain's log, supplemental: there's nonsensical in the accidental.

Form a mental picture.
(Is it residential? The open sea?)
would you describe it and
please sing it to me?

please

I love these Saturday mornings with Billie, Ella, Etta, Dinah, Nina, Aretha, Peggy, Bessie, Louis, Sam, Otis, Miles, Marvin, Al, Stevie,

"climbing up the stairs..."

In real/concrete Nonsensicalifornia, my microwave says "GOOD" when it is done.  I think my last microwave said "END."  What about you?

I think when I'm done, what I say is "Bye!" or "See you!" If I said "end" instead? No, that's beyond nonsense.

And I've had this song "Laputa" stuck in my head for two months:

"graphite to paper, a saga-born, and hand drawn artisan dreamer...
...Miyazaki frontier"

Yeah it's cool. And Castle in the Sky too obviously.

Okay END

Being an Editor

In a couple streams, 
on a couple teams... 

one thing I love: 
I’m an editor. 
Give me a text 
and I’ll make it better. 

We'll make it meaningful, 
make it clear. 
We’ll catch their ear. 

Need a little content? 
I’ll make it appear. 

Content to supplement, 
to turbocharge the core— 
They’ll carry it around. 
They’ll come back for more. 

I’ll turn a phrase
at any stage. 

I’ll listen to them 
and watch— 
they’ll turn the page.