i'm a backbone (?)

what am i to do
when she calls wanting experience to leave the mess
-- she's made?
she's already tried alternate options-
what if she misses the shot, slips on the rope,
--- climbs half way up & can't get back down,
what if i'm not here to answer the pleas,
--- applications for something more?

has her spirit descended into where
---- < her thoughts are
drowning?

no one has what she needs.
--- words hold no water.
actions get tripped up by intentions.

and my anger gets us nowhere. just back
to the beginning, where she thinks no one cares.

say yes to michigan

traverse city is one of my favorite places. my dad &
my other mom have had a nice little place across from
the bay for over ten years now. neither the cabin nor
the lot was taken care of when they moved in - the grass
was waist high, the logs were covered in a gross shade of red.
the neighbors thanked my dad when he fixed it up, it was
the dirty disadvantaged downer, casting shadows on
the well managed residences of the rich & the retired.
it was the lone ghost of the street, all the other houses
were alive.

many summers have been spent up here, acquiring
new hilarious memories & fables. we spent many
nights camping in the backyard while our father
redid the house. (he does everything himself, he
had just finished fixing the septic when we arrived)
our first bedroom here had rainbow wallpaper,
my sister & i loved it. we fought for it, but they
took it down.

yesterday was one of those ideal summer days on the
lake. we were that joking happy family who cooks
out & plays cards. the water was warm (it hasn't been in
years), the sky was clear, the temperature was just
hitting the 80's with a slight cool breeze. we went
swimming in lake michigan, sat in the sand & drew
in the energy that engulfed such a classical setting.

j & i took a drive that overlook the lake. the sun set
on the opposite bay, swiftly sinking beyond the hills.
we chased down the moon through a golf course
until we found it hiding, laughing at our pursuit.
it sat low in the sky, large but silent, facing the
remaining glow, then reflecting it to illuminate the night.

our battle cry

------- ^^ ----- ^^ ------ a prayer for peace. ------------ ^^^ --------- ^^


we played "sons & daughters" as we left our
quiet forest road on our way to cross another border.
we played it as loud as our ears allowed.
we sang along, giving all we could muster.

"hear all the bombs fade away, hear all the bombs fade away"

i can't help but tear up when i hear that song.

what, people? no thanks.

she wanted to venture outside the woods.
--- i said "what, people? no thanks."

we heard middlebury has a nice farmer's market. so we drive the
10 or so miles to check it out. we are in need of some fresh fruit
& veggies, craving them in fact. but it turns out there is not
much going on here. a lot of staring?
more crafts than food, more money cups for the sister
playing guitar than recycling stations. we do however pick up some
amazing goats cheese and some wheat bread that has a slightly
sweet honey taste that makes me happy. we place the fresh
spinach on the cheese & bread pieces and
eat our lunch overlooking a small waterfall. we can't stop smiling.

j says she has a hard time coming back to the woods after going
to civilization. i reply i have a similar problem. its tough for me
to go to civilization after being in the woods. she knows who
i am, she is not surprised.

i have been told many times that i would really like burlington.
but it is really the drive in that caused awe.

down town surprises me. chain stores everywhere.
streets have been closed off to provide a boardwalk
carnival experience, walking down the middle of a mall. busy
bustling shoppers going in & coming out with fancy clothes,
mint foam latte double steamers & purses.
(some made of high quality hemp of course) but as we always
seem to do, we find our little haven in the chaos. the
peace & justice store lies smack dab in the center of this mess.
slow moving queer activists, with signs & markers in their
backpacks just in case (cause you don't really know where
rebellion will strike) & reggae music offset
the unbalanced craziness from outside. finally. we pick
up some damn good bumper stickers, a positive news &
head back through what now seems like an illusion.

we found lake access. a bench to sit on to take the view in.
we don't know how the kid next to us can continue to read
his book: we are madly in love. with the scene, with the water,
with each other- giggling, taking pictures, holding hands.
then we have moments of silence, where we just stare out into
the open breeze, catching glimpses of grand design & harmony.
the mountains rise gracefully from the other side of the lake,
reaching towards the night's constellations, the edge of the globe.
we are drawn to water, though she prefers the ocean, we still
get calm & focused here. the same kid in a look we try to pin-
point just for the hell of it walks by twice.

"alright" i say, "i'm ready for some people."

treehuggin chainsaw?

this morning's green news:

the first article listed at treehugger.com is about a
hand powered chainsaw. (these have been, by the way, around
for a while...as they recognize) so yeah! no gas. but who
exactly is going to treehugger looking for a chainsaw?
-step it up kids!
but just in case you don't
want to hug trees anymore-- check out the link.


http://www.treehugger.com/files/2007/07/hand_powered_ch.php

the bean counters

july 4th-8th:

i instantly feel at home in w's little farmhouse here in new
hampshire, though the waving stopped on the way in.
(we kept waving but we only received funny faces.)
oh well. w once humbly helped j feel at home here too.
when she ventured here a couple years back for her masters.
our spirits are high from the mountains after the short drive
in - j is anticipating a nice shower, me, a good bed.

w has a garden, a dog, a cat, a compost pit & a lovely little
swimming hole not even a mile away. the top floor is one
large room, with only a chimney running through it.
she knocked all the walls out to open it up.
its a beautiful space. it feels like possibility sometimes.
it's all we imagine to have once school is done. when our
two begins growing into three, four. an older farmhouse with
a quiet porch & a swing comes up from time to time. always with
smiles & sometimes investigations & pictures.

w is all she is talked up to be and more. its hard for her to sit still
at times, other times she feels perfectly content just knitting.
she is relaxed & gentle when she speaks. her frankness
& honesty is refreshing, nothing is shocking or out of line. she's
still quite a hippie but she's lost the bell bottoms & the need
for those secret LA parties. (at least i think so)
w always has a project.
half of one room is filled with yarn. she does gardening,
catering. and she steals honey from bees. we get along
as though we have always known each other.

though it rains much of the time we are here, we take
a small break to go to a humble river to wade.
its not deep enough to swim. nor warm enough.
the water is low here, as its been in the midwest.
farmers are struggling. waterfalls sound like leaky pipes.
creeks are drying up. i step slowly across
the scattered stones towards the middle of the banks. a
place of refuge, a place that erases thoughts.
two small laughing boys try to catch fish in their pitiful net,
sure of their abilities to act faster than them. i always
caught toads & frogs. they don't like to move much. and
when they do, it's quite drowsy.

j takes me to campus for lunch at a "legendary" restaurant.
i complain about the price of coffee, she gives me the eye.
i don't know when i began doing this, bitching about prices,
but i've been trying to quit. but it's amazing to me how much
profit some want from a cup of joe. i know folks are hurting.
i don't mind helping the little guys out. wait. these are the
little guys, right?

we take a hop, skip and a jump to w's work where she seems
flustered & annoyed, ready to pound however is in charge of
distributing this assignment to her down into powder.
we help her out a bit, putting paper into folders, punching
some mad numbers and trying to rearrange the disorder this
small room has become. strangely & in the middle of a manic
array of sentences w manages to say she's off to see the bean
counters. those silly overbearing bean counters. i laugh.
she looks up seriously. "that's what they are." i nod.
don't i know it. well hell, don't we all.

no trace

july 2nd-4th:

Our last couple nights in vermont were warm & comforting. j had finally
sunk into the camping routine, which is not a routine at all.
just a free form dance in a circle with no boundaries.
she's not used to that. (in the city one is formed almost immediately,
if it was not, one would get lost in the chaos of unpredictability
and get sprayed by a water gun coming around w. 110th street.)
she had found the feeling i'd been waiting for her to remember.
that reassuring restorative renewing wonder nature provides.
she awoke one morning like a child, ready to explore, discover, investigate
-- her bright freckled face smiling. as the sun rose to its bold position,
she took off to uncover the secrets that hid behind the blanket of trees & shadows.

we left no trace of our being there. only nola & the husky knew where we were.
and they don't speak much.

Freedom & Unity

with a state motto like that, it's no wonder everyone is waving to us, like we are locals...or family. "i wish we all waved." we love this state. we don't want to leave. and oh how i wanted to sing the state song on the mountain tops. next time. next time.

they're coming for us

i don't know what i would do if this
place did not exist.
if these majestic places disappeared...
my heart would crumble,
i'm sure of it. where would my home
be then?

waking up breathing this air is
intoxicating. it helps me to forget
the stiffness i feel from sleeping
on the ground. and the trouble
i'm having, trying to get on my feet.
my lungs are ten times as big as
they are in the city. and i can feel
how happy they are inhaling and expanding.

the clouds move in right over my head, i can touch
them, i swear. they dance on my fingertips then
roll between branches in silence. they are holding
water for the growth beneath them. everything is
looking up. they always seem different from this
angle, colors stand out, some are transparent. i
watch the storm pressure build them higher
& higher -up up up until their tops burst & they
look like tasty edible muffins.

our site was waiting for us. it's perfectly nestled
in the woods, good shelter for tent, small open
space for sun. the fire pit was already up, though
much had to be done to pick up their leftover
mess. it drops to the low 40's at night so the fire
is needed. i am the fire maker & i take pride in
my duties. the bugs didn't know we were coming
so they had little time to plan a welcoming party
with cake. we shared little conversation until
after the rains.

they've made a rifle range out of one of the
camping areas. there is no sign.
(oh, the letters to write, the people to call)
shells scatter the ground, along with the kindling.
its an odd space. high grass also fills this mid-size
meadow. there's a pile of dirt near a bunch of
trees standing alone, a little circle within one.
they bring more than rifles now. they are bringing
automatics. we heard them for hours one night.

i'd like to fire the shells into the sky until they turn
to dust. i think nola does too.

nola (one of our neighbors) has an old beautiful big
husky. she has a saddness about her. but she's a tough
womyn, tender hearted and aware. she shakes her head
while she explains the losses. trees, animals, silence.
though they (vermont) have kept the walmarts out,
developers loggers & the like still push until another
caves & profits. (she likes us. we are the good campers
who don't leave budweiser cans and other random shit
throughout the forest.) she's worried that sooner rather
than later these sanctuaries will be gone. these perfect
spaces. gone to greed & consumption. she is from the city.
she came here to escape it. to hear coyotes and crickets
at night instead of horns and sirens. like we have.
like we will continue to do.
with a tired look in her eyes she warns:

"they are coming for us."

i wish i could of told her that the good people are
coming to. we need and love this land.
we stand beside her.
fighting. fighting like hell.
without automatics.