MARCH 30, 2010

It has been a week now since the motorcycle incident that took the lives of my friends. A week of feeling closer to the spirits of the dead than the souls of the living. Closer to the wisdom of those gone than the words of those left living. Do we ever come back?

SOME PORTFOLIO ADVERTISING DESIGNS

I have been approached from more than 8 points of the compass, once from heaven and twice from hell. The next invitation may come at any moment, may last years or may come in the final hours of breath. The tenacity of the quest will reap the vision of deliverance found in consummate conviction and devotion.

MIRRORED PAST



Fragment of mirrors
at our feet
You move
so I can stand where you are
to see refractions
of your universe
Sun
Moon
Scars
and how your perspective
has changed
as you've moved on
and you share
the reflections of your past
as you remember them
As we keep moving round
new ones found
Knowing in time
we'll eventually find
pieces where we were just
spent time
discovering us

THE HILL

When we first met we flew off the hill with a vagabond abandonment. Laughter was an envelope of warm current of air that lifted us, gliding and drifting in the reminiscing and sharing of our pasts. With each flush of discovery, we would sail upwards, until the time came when our feet would gently caress the earth once again. Gathering our memories, we would ascend lightly up the next slight hill, only to joyously leave the top and soar over the plush cushioned meadows beneath. Over and over we would do this, half the time of every hour would be spent flying. Then, as the weight of familiarity and those hardships of the road up the hill increased, the hills became harder to climb and seemed more steep. After years we asked ourselves is this all there is, the climb, the throwing over the edge, the long walk up the hill. Somewhere we decided it wasn't worth the daily climb, that the thrill of the fall was gone, and that the next time we made it to the top we would just stay there and make it comfortable. Until the day of the accident and I awake falling, either having been judged or by turning over in a dream. Frantically clawing the sky, not remember this feeling and how close panic is to ecstasy.

Sunday morning, and you woke up alone.