Artists

Heaven and Earth And your life in them Cathedral architecture This is who you are Don’t be fooled by the vendors In the courtyard The ticket-man at the entrance Who would sell you for a song They no longer even see you And you were made for more than merely being seen You were made to move mountains You are a masterpiece   There is a truth in every act of creation That its final...

It was the smile that got me thinking There was no bitterness No resentment No tension between us She kindly spoke With a voice gentle And undemanding “Have a nice day” To which I returned “Thanks, you too” As I took my receipt And walked out of the FedEx office exactly eleven point six pounds lighter than when I’d gone in   “Have a nice day” It wasn’t a commandment to be obeyed Issued from...

I’ve been trying to get here all along   To the END   Walking a new trail is like reading a book Twists, turns, surprising perspectives Memories are summoned Like ghosts in the wind And I read myself into every word Every footstep And I just keep turning pages And walking Eager for the conclusion And yet I somehow hope The End will never come   Today I found it here   “END OF TRAIL”...

It’s the word that was spoken Before I was sent To a world collapsing Under its own colorless night   I looked with my eyes And saw my failures multiplied An abandoned house Ashes and rust Self destruction Egos blazing like guns And rampant consumption Of this body Of earth And water Of flesh And blood   But these are not the words   And this is not the book   This isn’t a stairway...

Humboldt County The house we call our own Her laughter now fills this home It defies logic and reason And all good doctrine It sets sharply against The crushing weight of debt And doubt It ripples down the hall Like waves that dance On an ocean that will drown you Without thinking twice   From the depths I think about thirty different things All at once I should have painted more often And maybe wrote...

The land that lay directly behind me as I painted this distant view from a lonely rolling ridge on California’s central coast belongs to none other than Neil Young, and having learned this I couldn’t help but recall a recording I’d recently heard of him singing the old Woody Guthrie tune This Land is Your Land:   As I was walkin’, I saw a sign there And on the sign it said “no trespassing” But...

I was made in California Born in Disneyland With a busted lung And a broken set of wings So it’s been foot on the ground And wheel on the road Up and down In exile ever since To a cold and distant shore Far from the evening palms And citrus mornings Roots bound In the floor of the van Stunted growth With a beautiful view Has been my holy rolling   Double yellow Single broken...

Put your boots on When you enter the kitchen And step carefully Through broken china Sometimes the Ending Is only a burnt tortilla With the face Of Jesus   We talk of the Ending In low tones Fearing the unknown We speak of lives lost And suffering to come As if these things Aren’t just the chorus To the song   Maybe we can only know The tragedy of Ending After it’s over and done...

Let the new year begin And let the last one end As the keys punch the headlines Into your skin Burning hot like cattle brands Will you have a choice Or will it be out of your hands? Will you see what is written? Will you read your last rites? Will it be everything black Or everything white? Everything day Or everything night? Is it all or nothing? Just this or just that? The record...

I am a little harder to find these days At times almost impossible it seems But I’m still scribbling away Still painting the scene Which is really to say That I am still here Learning to see Each of us As we are Often hungry Sometimes filthy And always beautiful When I finally manage to see Beyond the most distant horizon And past the mirror that troubles me