Writer’s Log #33

Why write?

And to what purpose?

If the god idea is on the outside of the known universe

Then a creator is on the outside

Of their structure of work…

Or the structures of society…

There are no sharp edges

No walls

No ceilings

You can create whatever you want

But why…

There is a feeling –

And like most things- it’s lonely and likely,likely, a minuscule group and not the reality…

But there is a feeling at least for myself…

That it’s an Instagram society

And we must purchase

Exchange something from ourselves

To attain something – a special key – to unlock ourselves ….

But I don’t think we are a puzzle …

With pieces scattered throughout the universe …

We are whole…

Right now…

And there is a feeling- a pressure- that it must be



And useful



Imposter syndrome is likely my culprit here…

If architects build structures

And landscapers lay foundations

And gardeners set tables


Are the emotions

The colours

The sensations

The memory

For society

Imagination is so important

It’s doesn’t even have to be good or great

Just show up

Even if you sit there 250 days in a row and don’t build anything

But on the 251st day

You do

You’re an artist in and out of season

You matter


The older I get

The less I am impressed with people

headlines (they sell stories)

There’s nothing new under the sun

We gripe on our parents

Our children will gripe on us…

We feel important and like we are doing a great work

but we all will grow old and slowly fade into the corners of rooms

Possibly becoming punchlines, ignored and suddenly we will understand how our parents possibly felt


There is nothing new under the sun

It’s so easy to just fall in line and be an echo

I could write about how lovely my wife was until we divorced and then it would be so easy to say she failed in the marriage and crucify her…

And most people would be ok with that

It’s easy to occupy an established place until you step out of or over a perceived line and then you become a punchline or headline and are reminded of your place

There was a writer from the Middle East

She wrote me once and asked me to keep writing …

I read her work

And all of her writing was about losing friends in school

And bombings

And religions

I thought what it must be like

To be surrounded by religions

And people selling you something all the time

Maybe we are just another echo when we pray…

I have doubts

Like a flood

But I think about her a lot

And I – I believe in art

And so I ask

Why write?

To build

Brick by brick

Forget about what you think you know

About headlines

About social media

everything is marketing and nothing is as it seems

So …again…

What are you saying and why are you saying it?

Who are you saying it to?

Why do you want to say it?

What happens next?


– E

On our way


You think the Apex of all pain is losing a parent…

You tell yourself, ok, this is it…nothing could hurt more than this – (losing a parent or a divorce etc)

And then you lose a brother…

And there’s such fresh pain

Pain you can’t even understand

It’s just there…

In such a way

That it feels so unfair

it levels the field

You feel

Cheated from something

You don’t even understand



There’s no order

To this madness

You think

Ok, there’s parents you’ll lose

You prepare for that

But losing a sibling

Is so different

Whether you’re close or not

You really understand the brevity of everything

It wakes you up

From the grind

From the hustle

And you look around you

And you see

How quickly and randomly

All of this can go away



This funeral home

Where our father was

Where all of us end up

Through our history

Whatever we may do

We end up here

How strange that

We won’t be living

This ache

This invisible target

We really don’t know



How complex

How layered

We take things so personally

I remember losing our father and I thought it was all so personal

And it was

In its way

But there is always hurt

Beyond what you see

There is always layers

There are years

Entire decades

Of complexities and issues

That we know nothing about

It’s all so blurred

The lines

We think it starts and ends with us

A moment in time

But it’s layered

Traits, ethics, work, talents, looks, pain, old pain, new pain, life …

I lit a cigarette and I smoked it

I probably shouldn’t have

But I wanted cheesecake

And didn’t have it

And I felt that I was overthinking




Beagle in the City #300

Ethan: Well, we made it buddy.

Simon: We did?

Francis: Frashasha! (Plays drums)

Ethan: This is our 300th!

Simon: Oh boy! What’s a 300?

Ethan: We’ve been through a lot together…

Simon: Here’s a sniff back…I was saving that one…

Ethan: it was funny.

Francis: I’m buying you both a jokes book…


I didn’t know what to write

Was hung up on a line

I knew the world was bleak

I had experienced moments of happiness


I’ve always been engaged
To suicide
I just never got the vows right
I can’t explain that either

The claws in your back

Controlling you , grooming you, like a puppet

Rivers of blood

The parasites in your ear

Driving you mad

The blindness

The mad years


Six strings under

Filled with earth


Of soul

And worth


I dreamed about the time they gathered all the art

No laws were broken

Only changed

And called it worthless


How dare artist make so much money for lines across a canvas

While the working man starved

A child could do this, it doesn’t even give anything to society, it doesn’t lift up…


Let me tell you….

Religion says to deny yourself

Culture says to conform yourself

Art says to free yourself

If there is gods or god


There is a madness

But there has always been an autonomy

A breath of a prayer

A single drop of ink

A line

That cuts the page

It speaks life

While you believe you are dead

It speaks hope

While you believe you are hopeless

It is art

It is autonomy

It is your voice

It is your vision

It is yours

Significantly yours


I kept thinking about these things

And I kept dreaming them too

I didn’t want to lose parts of myself

I didn’t want to lose any of myself

Maybe this is what you write

When you think too deeply

Maybe this is what you write

When you don’t know what to write


The last line

There was evil, and there was memory and who knows when you first meet either of the two. He knew he saw her standing in the woods in the dark when he was little. Her black dress…long hands…

That was when he saw the lights in the sky.

He saw her again when he was house sitting for his grandfather after his grandmother died. He could hear her long dress moving through the hall at night. Always just catching a glimpse of her entering the rooms.

The night his father died, he saw her through the window, sitting in the rocker. He knew then he had passed.

Maybe it was when he drove the long drive to his father in law to tell him he couldn’t love his daughter anymore…

He saw her then…

He kept hearing the words

Sick in the stomach

Weights around his neck

“You’re not the victim here, if you do this, it will end in destruction, you’re on a dangerous road.”

“He’s just lost. He’s lost.”

He sees her now, every night. In his door. Just like he did before…

She just stands there and then floats away. Sucking all of the light and air out of the room.

Who knows when you meet evil…

There was also a different figure

Blonde red hair

Blue eyes like stars

And fire wings

She was there when he had a seizure in a ditch

She was there, reading, when he was in the hospital, she was there always…

But lately she just smoked and made fun of his poetry…

He wondered if he would off himself

Or where any of these were headed

He wondered what any of this was…

If he was going to lose everything

If anything really ended in destruction

If he was even good


He felt empty and numb

He wondered

If it was really possible to run out of time

Because he felt everything ending


What any of it was about

Dear you


Photo origin

I know you feel like nothing

I know you feel like you’re overwhelmed

On your own

Feel it

You’re doing better than you think you are

Alnitak, is the brightest class 0 star in the sky ….found in Orion’s Belt…

1,262 light years from earth

Your light

Even overwhelmed

Even isolated

Is like this blue super giant

I know you think there are thousands just like you….

But this is you

Keep going

You’re doing better than you think you are

You’re unique

You matter

And when I look across the city

When I look across the room

When I look…

I always see you

I don’t know how not to…


Get Born

Photo by Emily Ann Kirby

We didn’t have time to watch tv

But something in the gut was happening with me…

Born under a military flight zone

Just another small town

We watched the towers fall

We watched the world change

Every generation has its pain

You’re not broken

You’re not in pieces

You’re just bruised

You’re still whole

You’ve just been kicked around


The middle class

The working man

The single mom

Take the hardest hits

But they can’t stay down

They get back up

With both feet on the ground

We’re just out here

Trying to find some kind of peace


I had a cousin

Couldn’t take the pain

Shot himself

Just to get away


I don’t care what you think of me

All I need is my queen

But if she kicks you when you’re down

If she only takes …

Then fuck, brother ,

You’ve got to know when to leave the table ….

Know your worth

And don’t accept anything less


We still have room for growth

We still have overcast skies

But we’re still out here

Working through the pain

Trying to figure out how to explain

What the kids are seeing on the internet

When we go to sleep


I had a friend in Tennessee

No where to go

No where to be

Barely holding on

We are not divided as we seem to be

Everyone is hurting

Living in these broken towns

No work to be found

Bills abound

And rent ain’t cheap

Son what am I supposed to do

How am I supposed to sleep?

Oh god now, oh my god now,

I don’t need a bailout

I need a helping hand

Is there still a foothold for a dream?

Is there still room in this heartland

For a working man

I’m just burning down these roads




That tomorrow is gonna be a cool cool morning

For a new dream

And let me tell you

Oh my god now

Oh my god now

Is there room for us in these small towns

To get born now

372nd month (it’s only life)

The sun it rose

The rose it bloomed

The Years they passed

They said it changed in five

But it’s more like twenty


The Jester Jest


The Joker did his best

The Bishop wept

The proud man lied

While the ego and pride starved

The hippy cried


The middle class was slowly dying ….

But the working man

The partner

The power couple

They keep their heads down and they keep building

Dylan said

It’s life and life only….


I climbed that mountain

To write your name in the wind

So they could spread your seduction

Across Appalachia

Now I’m down from my mountain

To tell the tale


Hear the names

From the ghost


The broken life

From the middle class

Who endured so well

We try to forget the earth the clay

That we all return to someday

But god is on that mountain


The past cries out with every new morning.

Children remember, there’s a cloud of witnesses watching over you…

Who’ve gone on before you-who knows the path so well….

2021 #1

The American people are hurting


Out of work

They are enduring



I’ve watched as professors work door dash every day

Just to keep food on the table

They refuse to give in

They showed up to vote

In the middle of a pandemic


I remember the night the president was elected

My wife cried herself to sleep….

I remember “day 1”

I remember

The speeches the statements

I am reminded of all the opportunities

To step off the train

And I’ve been waiting

But no one has stepped off

I asked myself how this was possible ?

It’s like watching an abused partner make excuses for their abuser


It turned my stomach to see a small portion of white American conservatives act like they are being attacked


They have been duped by a con man

A liar

Let there be no mistake

History will record with the greatest astonishment

That they did not walk away

They stood by their man

Until the end

And they will have to live with themselves for the rest of their lives


They have shown

That his behaviour is presidential

For their daughters

And grand daughters

They have made excuses

For this slow build up that culminated

As any cult does

Into hysteria

We have seen every form of it …

They have been lied to.

It is a cult


Make no mistake

Even for conservatives

This is not America

The American people do not have time to buy in

They are struggling

They are and have been in survival mode

I want us all to be able to dream again

I want us all to build again

To win

I’ve watched and worked in cities

All my life

I know the American people

And we endure

We build

We continue forward

I still believe in this America


I believe what happened for Georgia will be possible in any state

If we get the relief and help out to the American people so they can build

They do not want a handout they want a hand up

A foothold


I don’t have time for cults

For hysteria

And paranoia

Or conspiracy


Call it what it is



We’ve seen and lived through the harvest this reaps


I believe we can do better

We MUST do better

For our children

And their children

For our neighbours

For ourselves


If you were a 14 year old daughter

You are 18 now

Possibly considering marriage

Would you be ok if she brought a sitting con man, jester , clown, abuser home?

Would you really?

Be ok leaving them in the room with him alone?

Or on a trip with him in a car alone?


I’ve sat in the room with men who abuse women and I’ve fired them….

Every single one has had an excuse

There are countless excuses

Everybody has them….

Let me say this


I am tired

And I have no room for excuses

It’s time to build

It’s time to dream

It’s time to heal

It’s time to move forward

This never happened

We have to move forward

We have to get relief to our country

The world is watching

Future leaders are watching

Our daughters and our sons are watching

It’s up to us to discern truth

To discern placement

And value

Not social media

Not businesses

We have to do better

We can

We should

We are Americans

We have a personal responsibility

To bring authentic excellence

For our future


It’s bright

We are going to be ok

If we do the work

If we do the work

We will be moving forward

It’s the small details

It’s the living rooms

It’s the families

It’s the you and the me

It’s the professor

It’s the teacher

It’s the clerk

It’s the associate

Getting up at 2:30 am

It’s the business owner

It’s the pastor

The priest

The Muslim

The Christian the agnostic

It’s all of us

We all are Americans

And we all have made it this far

And we all


Are building

And I’m proud

I’m proud to have worked beside you

I’m proud to have lived among you

I’m proud

To be an American

Because we choose our future

And we can decide.


Writers log #32

I tried writing several posts the last two days….

But none of them seemed good…

I’m trying to stay positive

But I’m behind on all of my bills

I mean, who isn’t…

I’m working from 1:30 am to 9pm

Two sometimes 3 jobs and I no it will work out

But I keep waking up with pain in my face and chest…my heart racing …

I can’t sleep…

I am so worried

And I feel like I’m impatient

And I need to slow down

But I (sigh) I don’t know what to do …

I’m trying to stay positive and not worry and not vent

I know i can vent and overload

The plan is working

It’s just slow

There’s progress

It’s just slow

And it will be ok

It will be ok