character sketches

drum circles
ocean beach
st. augustine
metal weaving
light beaming
walking into summertime Boston
the Marines
his daughter’s graduation
the story
where’s the beginning
where’s the end
the endless road
traveling

I remember her face. My name is “Rona,” she said. ”And that’s my Dad, Sam. He’s a farmer. You gotta plant blueberry plants, if you want a good harvest.”

I’ve never seen a face so covered in blueberry. A muffin too big to fit in her hands. A young girl. Seven. Growing up so fast into a young woman. Blue eyes looking out full of wonder. Discovering.

”It was so cold this morning. It took him a minute to get the truck to start up.”

She told me this with her nose still red. Her pink snowsuit soft.

“Why does that art say ‘Dead Inside’”? she asked me.

How do you explain something like this? To a little kid. .

I told her that sometimes life gets in the way of its own mystery. The temptation to become stagnant is great— to live without thinking or action.

“Those who feel dead inside,” I told this young woman, “it is because they are not alive like you or I. Not alive like the trees outside. Their flame is burning low and it is for people like us to help return the brightness. We are the ones who carry the light. Who bring the fire on the darkest of nights to those who feel dead inside.”

What a conversation to have with a kid. A young woman living in a world still alive with mystery. Enjoying a song on the radio. Having a conversation with me. Chattering away like a bird on a bright winter morning.

I could hear it in his voice
when he finished up —
Two days alone
Last night got cold —

What happened to him in the Basin?
Facing the unknown
The cold
The silence
The alone

And how would he explain it?
When he goes home
If you don’t know, go —
Chisos Basin Road

from white sands
to black lava rocks
time tick tocks
lava flow
nearly 5,000 years ago
says the bookstore keeper —
who they call Tom —
once an underwater seeker
57 days under water
no sunlight
left for work in the morning
and was gone for six months
Tom the Submarine Man
now surrounded by lava rocks

a man I met
at a gas station
lost all his money gambling
Las Vegas

he walked into the desert
laid down for the night
woke up the next morning
with a snake by his side


keeping warm
he thought
and went back to bed
sleeping in the sand

there’s no running water
or much heat in the winter
but, he told me, sleeping outside —
it’s a treasure —
a desert awakening

three days in a row
just down the road
at a gas station on 149
there sat an old man
by the door just watching
with the cashier talking
about the latest news developing
truthfully not much had changed
since yesterday
except a girl just walked in
the first customer that morning
black coffee
no lid


and that girl —
she was me
walking free
into the next daydream
living in the forest
allowing myself to be

three days in a row
just down the road
black coffee
no lid

I met Kindness in the Woods
A Loving Spirit from the Earth
Bathing in Sunlight
Energy so Bright
Bringing Truth
Sharing Polaroid Moments of Time
A Reminder to be Good
Finding Kindness in the Woods

you turned your face away
when I said hello
how is your day
then I noticed a mark or a scar
you turned your face away
and didn’t say anything
continuing about your day

but the day was ending
sunset beginning
and I was just settling in

you chose one side
I chose mine
we watched the sun in silence
overwhelmed by loneliness
I cried

you saw me then
you said hi
it’s a beautiful one this night
it’s warmer on the south side
that’s where I live
bushwhacking up and down the mountain
not too many people want to go bushwhacking
afraid they’ll get lost
but I’ll tell you
there are some waterfalls to see
on the slopes of mount magazine

then he turned to leave
eyes smiling
their light was all I could see
his face turning
full fledged
bright as can be

It is great for healing
Rolling fast and free
20 miles per hour
or slower
Cars honking
Trucks stopping
Midnight superheroes responding
Matt Matt and TJ
Showing up without armour
Pure light identities
Descending from the sunken city
Off the coast of Italy
Volunteers
The morning after a tornado
Becoming present at ground zero

To the child who lost their zebra—
beach cleanup—
I will look after it
This African animal
Lost in the Gulf of Mexico
Buried in the sand
Pulled out by my hand—
A child also at play—
I will look after your zebra
and promise to keep it safe

Today I took candy from a stranger
His name is Glen —
a sixty one year old black man
who parents were vietnam veterans
drafted and deployed to where they never should have been
instead of raising their kids
off fighting for white presidents

I met Glen on the street corner
just before his shift
taking care of the tomato, lettuce and onion machine at the sports bar on dickson street
It takes motivation — he said
as he took a swig
from the paper bagged can
then he gave me a jolly rancher
and kept telling his story

Time stopped at George Elementary
It began again with community
Hands picking up shingles, nails, and metal sheets
Separating trash from materials for rebuilding
Protecting roofs from leaking
Rain still falling
Tarps over everything
Powerlines swinging
Empty desks at 4 am
A destroyed gymnasium
Hallways to have been filled with children
Only four hours later
The cafeteria and kitchen
Instead families and neighbors were seeking shelter
Awake from sleeping
Terrified but together
Now begins healing
A tornado gives short warning
Before destroying
But there is hope and rebuilding this morning

“Are you the one who belongs here?”
That’s what Waylon asked me.
”Yes, I am the one.”
”As you can see, it’s windy.”
That was the end of our conversation—
A welcome homecoming.