An Interesting Thing


It’s an interesting thing, the view
from pillow, a corner of an eye…
all the way from what I knew
to what I know
she lay in a shallow nest
created by linen, by bodies, by
the effect of time and movement
she watched me I know, like I was
her…seeing a new view
her and me, different
in the idea, the sense
new because ideas are new, not
that they really were, many
have had them…just
that the moment was something
never seen, felt…so…
in small moments and in the Half
dark of a Sunday morning
it was new to me
and in her just sleeping eyes, I saw
an interesting thing; a thin
slice of who she was, her thinking
in her own idea…
…I saw her
and in that spark, that moment
the world slowed
for a second an hour a day
and in my view I saw her
letting me be…just me…
and it was a wonder
…wonderful and all because
of her being her.

Free Free Free

Free speech.

Say it. Feel the words in your mouth. Understand that two other words don’t exist on this planet that have the power that those two word have. The changes those two words have wrought are immeasurable and globally significant…they alone have changed more lives than any other words ever uttered, blogged about, written down or otherwise communicated.

There are two key parts to the phrase; free and speech. When you think of the word “free” you don’t ever think “well, some cost but mostly free” or “in some situations, based on who is nearby, maybe not totally free” or “based on where it’s said, which institution owns the joint, it’s not really free.”


Free as in without constraint, without condition or proscribed or situational controls. Free. Free. Free. And then we have the word “speech”. Speech doesn’t just mean what is vocally said but also any idea that can be expressed between one human and another.

A cartoon, for instance.

Or an advertisement or editorial or pamphlet handed out on the street or a senator droning on monotonously in Congress or a commencement speaker at a university and on and on and on…


The very instance the word “free” no longer means unrestricted or unrestrained…the very moment that it becomes burdened with some persons idea of control and limitation then it becomes useless to a free people. It becomes (AGAIN!!) the tool of the powerful to be used to oppress the weak.

I’ve seen and heard people say that it was irresponsible for Charlie Hebdo to publish the cartoons of Mohammed because they were poking a bear, that they should have known that there would be retaliation. Possibly violence. Quite possibly…


Which is exactly why they needed to publish those cartoons.

You can write laws against people yelling “fire” in a crowded theater or against people writing lies designed to hurt others or unfairly gain reward, etc. but you cannot conditionalize freedom of speech or freedom of the press. You cannot arbitrarily limit what people can and can’t say in the public forum because the second you do, the very moment that that happens then all of the despots and theocracies and dictatorships on the planet are vindicated in their belief that they alone should be allowed to control ideas.

You give them that power.

Without the free flow of ideas then we’re all done for and back where we started…

…back where people who promote Sharia Law want us to be.

Fuck them.

Not So Suddenly

the effect of displacement, a
motion downwards, toward
the moment of recognition
all guided with intent…
separating the believed
from what is seen, looking,
a smudged lens, a distorted
mind’s eye seeking clarity…
still falling and unafraid…but
wondering, passing ideas from
back to front, from then to
now, seeking a landing…
an emotional well, untapped
the bottom rising, reaching
the scent of rose or something
beautiful, something you…
an outreached hand, a moment
a few words scribed on the air
we shared between us, your
breath I could feel…
I wait in the fall, the feeling
wrapping, holding me, something
mystical and strange; I am
falling without movement…
I think like I’ve done, like I’ve
never done and wait…because
the falling I am doing, the falling
that is me…
…is you.

All for a loaf of bread…

OK, one day you need some bread so you go to the store…

I walk into your house, right into the kitchen, when you weren’t home. I opened all the cupboards and moved the dinner dishes from one cupboard and put them in the pantry next to the breakfast cereal boxes, I moved the water glasses into the refrigerator, I moved the stuff from the junk drawer (c’mon, I know you have one…or two) from the kitchen and put it all in the glove box of your car, and on and on until I had the house organized exactly the way I wanted…regardless what you thought or how you did it before. I based my organization of your house on several studies done by esteemed researchers who had carried out experiments in universities.

Then I went away.

You get home and blow a gasket, “WTF!!!” you scream and you start putting things back in the places where their use was convenient, at least to your eyes and to you using them. Water glasses next to the sink makes sense, why the hell they were in the fridge is beyond you. You continue along your merry way making the house—your house—the way that you want it to be, the way it suits your purposes.

The next day I stop by

I immediately see that everything is different from where I put it before. I walk up to you with a gun in my hand and demand that you give me all of the money in your wallet AND that you put everything back the way that I had it, the way that the researchers said it should be. You refuse to do so citing the fact that it’s your house, it’s your private property, that nothing you do can be construed to be detrimental to any other person.

At gunpoint I lock you in the hall closet.

The next day I have a someone come in and feed you every day and watch you for the 20 minutes a day when you’re allowed to go to the bathroom but are then escorted directly back to your closet. Eventually I confiscate your house and all the property in it because you haven’t paid me for the cost of feeding you and I give it to a third party who sell it to someone else.

I move you to another house and another closet.

The person who now lives in your house one day goes to the store for some bread…

Welcome to America, entitlement programs and the taxes you pay to run those programs)


They say that the nor’easter is a sign, a signal
of things changing…weather certainly…but
minds, attitudes, the intent once measured
in heartbeats, smiles, sadness and similarities

we saw this,

we knew it’s truth

that the wind like change, like death
cuts across teary faces, broken
umbrellas scattered as so many memories
that what were once held and had, now
can no longer be, no longer be owned

we saw this,

we knew it’s truth

that the allowed hours,
the moments captured in dreams
cannot be contained
cannot be counted on…another sign…the
minimum of knowing is being, the
maximum of being is now, right now

we saw this,

we knew it’s truth

that our confusion about the
many branches of the path before us,
under our feet, is the internal nor’easter
is our emotions tumbling across
what we thought we were

we saw this,

we knew it’s truth

that it had come to knock down preconception
…prior knowledge, because the path
is not the past we make it to be, not
the past we so carefully held onto
as the winds as the rain as our minds
watched the storm wipe the slate clean

we saw this,

we knew it’s truth

a job ended, a life ended, a marriage
…dissolved in the repeated waves of living…
ended and we felt the nor’easter rise inside
watched the tides flood, the trees bend
and waited for it to end

we saw this,

we knew it’s truth


There is nothing easy about Ferguson, nothing clear and precise. It is a situation not unlike a thousand others here in the these United States…an inattention by society, an ignorance of real world pain and suffering. Not acute pain, not noticeable, not 11 O’clock news pain…but chronic, day in and day out pain. Crumbling infrastructure, massively misaligned police representation, local governments unable to change…and many more small but in the aggregate large problems.

Not just Ferguson.

There are many places in America that are really just prisons without walls, where millions of people are locked up for the crime of being born in the wrong place, at the wrong time. Not for the color of their skin but for the address of where they live. The greatest threat that these “inmates” face is not racism, although that does exist, but poverty and the endless cycles of dependence that they must endure.

Human nature say that no one ever washes a rented car…why would you? Someone else (who owns it) will do that. And governments have long touted home ownership as an ideal and a purpose toward helping people breakout of those open air prisons…but…

…giving something to someone for free is not ownership. Lowering the barrier to entry (re: the housing crisis brought on my disastrous federal policy) for people to “buy:” houses they could never afford is not ownership. Subsidies and Section 8 and block grants (and on and on and on) for people to live places where they do not nor will they ever have an actual stake, is not ownership.

Ownership is the free choice to trade your own time and energy—your labor—for something that you value.

Ownership is not welfare, it’s not food stamps, it’s not any of the thousands of giveaway programs that we as a society have created because we’re too fucking lazy to actually solve the real problems and thus destroy the prisons we call ghettos…that we call Ferguson.

Opportunity, education, the fair application of the law, a government that understands that it is people who succeed, not programs. Liberty and choice unburdened by high-minded ideals about “helping” people that only drive them deeper into dependence.

Hard goddamn problems.

Intellectually solvable, yes, but to do so means we have to admit to the prisons that we ourselves have built and sustain through our inattention…through our policies and our governing. Solvable by people, not political parties, not federal programs, not free stuff.

Real ownership.

Believe. Go. Do.


This World


I think this world sits
mesmerized by us, eyes
glazed over as we
try, as we scrounge
and scrabble…little
knowing, always
guessing…I think and
believe it is something…
that it is enough but
it never is,
it never is enough to think
when living is the
the world knows this

We try to emulate, to
shadow and follow, but
it is useless unless we know
…and we can’t know
until we know
so watching is what the
smarter of us do
what the less unaware
discover from
failure, from painful
endings, from having
and losing… when
living is the
the world knows this

We sit in fear, a puddle
of memories that
wets us and seeps
into cracks…between acting
and being, all the time
we are making motions
movements toward
and away from
ourselves, the ones we
want to love, want,
just want…when
living is the
the world knows this

We believe
because we cannot
know the answer
living is the

…the world knows this