The night rider

The night rider

I think it's the cold weather,
I've had the window open and cannot breathe.
Can't bear the cold anymore.
Cannot bear Texan women,
for they bear the cold yet wear
warmth which ruins the snow.
And this is why we go to parks.
To see the snow.

Snow

Man I love when it snows.
I don't hear the noises anymore. My bed is so goddamn silent.
If a squrrirel were lifted by a goose, in the night and dropped in
to the cold lake, I would drink whiskey and sleep soundly. I would
sing with Bruce Springsteen and shoot my rifle.
In the night, in the mountain, none of your aphorisms or
photo-graphs matter. Having been alone, having smelled lavender rain,
I know how to get to shore, man, always have.

New friends in the forests and mountains

Note: This is a scatter of photos of a recent journey. I made some good friends here and they will hate you if you don't think each photo here is beautiful. Some snapshots were taken in haste due to circumstance, some were more careful. It's up to you to like my photos, and my new friends to unleash their wrath if you feel otherwise. I present to the viewer images of things I saw. No visual cockblocking ('editing') occurred here. "...to be lonely, to be lonesome, that state of being for me is really familiar--it's the only one that I know intimately." (Gallo). Are people boring when they shoot all kinds of photos and don't edit them? Maybe I would be less boring if I took some time to have talent, 'composition skills,' as it were. Yes indeed. Real artistry. I understand this. I've read shitty writing. I've written more shit than I care for. But I also know that Kafka asked on his death bed for Metamorphasis and The Castle to be burned. Maybe all these photos are shit. I'm just trying to show what I saw. I am sorry if it is all shit. I am sorry. I apologize to all the investors. I am sorry I lost you all the money.
Maybe this will be my last journey. I am sorry, then. Maybe my problem is I am a sucker for the beautiful things I see, that I can't put them in perspective and exhibit discretion and choose between the banal and familiar and the truly special images. But I am visually immature--all these sights, to me, are so special and spectacular. I am overcome by the concept of their existence. What a bore I must be. Again, to my investors, I apologize. What is worse, there are so many images taken from this recent journey, and the best are to come. I will keep updating this same post, and you will see the growing inventory of images. Please be patient until all 90 images are posted. Then, collectively, tell me how horrible I am. But only then.

Pipes

Pipes

Maybe you stop counting the people who hate you.
Think of the desk of you father’s papers.
He was 34. He drew out a plan for his son,
But not for his daughter.
Think of your sister now.
She rides on your shoulder like a heavy pack.
Let it down and the bears eat her.

Think of ground level windows.
Don’t think about them, stay awake worrying about them.
Worry about the night. It hits you
Like a grey storm of water and wind.
It makes Sundays ache and empty,
It makes 18 years turn to 22, 22 to 30.
30 then stretches to death and mortgages.

The grass never grew thick and green
Despite the white bead powder sprinkled each spring.
Each dumb kid rose and fell and whimpered away
In unfelt anxiety, grey mornings, silent nights.
The last field went away. The cars drove past.

My evil jest

Words of Advice to Children and Grandchildren

Please come to Taos

If you come to Taos you will finally have left the mountains.
No, the mountains are cold in Taos. Yes, they have mountains
in Taos. I just said they were cold. You will die in a shed in Taos.
No you won't. You will eat pizza in Taos. You will ride your bicycle
on a dirt road and meet a fine lady. She will read to you and bathe you.
Each morning she will return from her 10 mile run and bake for you.
While the dough rises she will perform mathematical equations and
translate Von Mises. She wears dresses and blue jeans as well. She is
feminine in cowboy boots and is thin with a nice ass.
In Taos, she says, you belong, in the clear blue lake
that is hidden there for you to swim. Damn I never knew
this about Taos. Who fucking knew this.