oak tree mætning

Why are the grasses greener, when I think back in time?

It was easier to fall in love, and the music on the radio was something

you could sing along to,

The world seemed a kinder place, and my parents seemed like, they would always be around,

The skies were bluer, and my friends and I had time to kill, time to explore, time, just time to do with what we wanted to,

Money seemed to go a lot farther, and I always had some in the bank when I needed it,

Why is my memory so alive, when I think back to the past?

Why this, and why that, and why can’t I explain it to others

so they can revel in my memory as well?

Why are the grasses greener, the skies bluer, the women more satisfied

while all the while

I remained the same….

or, did I?



1981 red columbine

I wish

deep down in my heart

I  could taste your lips,

Columbine red

dancing along a meadow wet

along the folds of the Alpine high

where I found you, demure

sleeping in your dreams

of someone

like me,


We’d tell each other stories

her and I

recalling something that resembled our lives

just hidden a bit in the prose of the moment

While I was climbing mountains, hanging on the one word

to save my life,

she was standing along some road, or freeing herself from a cage

the confines of which, had tried to bind and confuse her


We’d tell each other stories

then critique each other’s works

I told her how I loved the way she crossed her T’s,

but I know she thought my own stories were too silly

for the likes of her,

but she laughed at them anyway, then fell into thought

of some other sentence, she’d been struggling with

while I just kicked the sand beneath my feet

and wondered how it would be,

if our stories finally met, and wove into each other

and, and,


We’d tell each other stories

and I would warm my thoughts with her words

wrap them around me, like a winter coat

some thing to snuggle with, then lay it gently on the bed

tucking in the edges and caressing the folds and whispers,

while I had to write something new for the day,


We’d tell each other stories

and still do today

though her words, and my words

still a world between us, exist

just something to take along

placed in my pocket, sealed in an envelope, written

with more words of my own heart,


We’d just tell each other stories…

Photo. Meadow wildflowers. 1979. Sierra Nevada, California.



If only, I had

the wisdom of the ages

tips from the sages

residing in my tin cup

never enough

what I wanted, what I got

no matter what others

thought I should say

where we were going

how we could get there,

as long as my gal and I

lost in some foggy love

wandering the streets

and alleyways

my arm around her

wearing our knowledge

on our sleeves,

our hats,

filled with wisdom

on our heads,

awaiting for inspiration

to arrive

DSC02137 wisdom hat







1978 Sierra natl forest beskåret boost

If only your clouds of cotton softness

gathering about my snowy heights, would

my gentle thoughts, of caressing and kissing

your form, billowing above me

shining your radiance upon

my cold faces of granite

warming my bed, of pine needles soft

by your embrace my love,

merely by the reassurance

of your embrace




Bench. San Francisco, California. September, 2016.




We could share a moment, or two

you, me, alongside a busy street, populated

by others who don’t know our names,

the wood is smooth, and the feeling warm

and I wouldn’t mind if you sat closer to me

that perhaps you had been thinking of,

and we could marvel, at how this life

these people we are today

living, breathing, enjoying the feel of the warmth

of the sun, while the shadows dance around us,

I might just choose to whisper something in your ear,

what I had been thinking about, waiting for the right time

when I felt like bursting at the seams, if I hadn’t

then you could pretend, you hadn’t heard what I said

then chose to kiss me, confusing me, pleasing me

making the couple passing by, smile as well

when we move along our way, exiting our claim

on a carved piece of wood, waiting for someone

to share in the moment, some might just call




I wanted her
to want me

My plumage, bright and warm

DSC02085 boost

did I display,

Her name, something written, I had

across my wall, there

where the sun first rose in my eyes,

DSC02093 boost

Her attention, would I attract

her eyes reading what I had written

knowing not,

it was for her,

If only, I

could stop wanting


If only wanting

could translate into having

If only…



IMG_2939 desert cropped darkened

Let me again, finger the scents

of your creosote darkness,

the desert sun setting, darkening the contours

a momentary brightness, fading to my sight

the promise of nighttime suns warming me,

while the cold reminder of you missing,

conjures pictures of the last time

we lie under the heavens, clinging to the thought

of never apart from you, being

your image painted, on every memory

still left in my mind’s sight

with only the absence

of your light





Gotta love that Country
the US of A
so many things, to see
eat, taste, feel, experience

*Boom Chicka Pop*


Somewhere in California
in an anywhere place
where the shoppers shop
and the cash register’s ring
and the people talk
where I wander through the aisles
marveling, gaping in awe
and wonderment,


Been away, you see
been away from home so long
things change, without me knowing
the sights, the houses increase
change color, the people grow older
grow younger, while I, while I

Just talking as if, I never left this place
this idea, the state of mind
the Golden State, with Malls
everywhere, there was a tree once
but you can’t make money on one tree
can you?

Boom Chicka Pop “corn”
why not have a name such as that?
in this Tortilla State of Mind


Tortillas seen in California. July 2017.

Where the temperatures are hot
and ice is King, and I am someone
who used to know what it was all about
not having to wonder why a product,
would have such a funny name,

In this California State of Mind….



I was atop
any one of a summit
unnamed, for what is the worth
only of knowing, what is highest,
what is most noble,
when what exists, lives in myself
being the most important
the most lasting,

DSC01490 Mt Williamson 2

I took to myself
the climb, the attainment
of many months planning,
the sweat on my brow
as testament to the sins
I’d accumulated, my life in the city,
My trials, my hopes dashed
love seeking, love found
but she was not on this journey,
This quest, how would seeing me now
my life balancing on my back, aching
the desert below, the skies above
robbed of any oxygen left in my lungs,

The contours on my mind’s map
didn’t equal the ones on paper,
my expectations, my goals, unattained
being satisfied with a cool drink
of water, a wipe of the brow
a look upwards, a look inwards,

DSC01490 Mt Williamson 5

My sight dissolves
into patterns, colors
my image soup disfigures
distorted trees, shadowy canyons
the running water tempts,
my feet, not always certain
just as my thoughts,
cheat and deceive me
tempt and tease, telling me
“go back”, ” give up”

DSC01490 Mt Williamson 6

My resolve, my determination
patterned by my life
drove me onward
to the top of my imagination
to the top of my dreams

My dreams….