Surge of Triumph

Tension’s electric
As it calmly builds.
Building static.

Not looking back.
This is over
Coasts and

Over mountains
And fields
Of grand design.
It surges:

Flash and thunder
Alters flesh
And bone into
Light itself.

Bands of tendons.
Now gunsmoke
As they action
And fire.

Time’s come
To run,

Peaceful woods
Of fresh trails
And elevated
Old growth.

It mantles triumph
In exodus.
Every misty
Morning sends us

Off in the horizon.
A mountain chain
Has been broken
By a valley.

Kinetic electric
Adrenaline instruments
Tireless seekers
Still tense,

Ecstatic to run
To wonder with
Fingers on the surface
Of maps uncharted.

A wandering
Pulse of a

Thick forests
Shot through.
Dark maps
Set to fire.

Plains now grand,
Blood in the hand
Shed to scale

Teeming legs
Of energy
Stood to see
Out to that valley.

Across tracts in
And fearless
Into flowing crystal.

Rivers tracing
Down the center
Of this grand design.

What might tension
Find when it
Through the yard?

Summitting its will
With static grip.
Wind in wisps
Cause a cold chill.

It sees a trail,
It wishes to

Epic tension in
The shoulders
Tired eyes:

Frission of kinetic
Will scar this
Grand design.

Will never cease
To wander
By its will
Staring out at

Unventured lands.
Tension creeps up
The spine and
Infects the neck.

A spark
Radiating through
Arms and legs
Built of light.

Eyes drunk
By the drink
That is this

Running to it,
Time’s come.
This is over, so
Don’t look back.

Solar Flytrap

Withering noise
As you enter a void
Full of concrete
Floating on black streets

As you pass through a portal
Through a shield
You emerge in a meadow
Dead, yet an oasis of brick

Water flows in a single river
To cut around features built
Into the dry ground
And lonely town

It sits in its own dimension
Nourishing Kittias
And feeding the valley
Where they do not but sustain

Themselves for what?

Just to prevent decay
To never wither past the sword
And take blows upon the chin
Of the shield so they may stay

At no cost but isolation
Do they do and sustain
Around the river and stave
Off boredom by living

With the only goal to exist
They resist decay and let
Their minds play around water
In a valley of dead grass

Beyond the pass
Beyond the shield
Unto dawn they cut
Their teeth on the field

Idle Nowhere

Piloting all day
Through passes
And mountains

Dense woods
And hills
Giving way
To a plains

Where the grass
Is dead
Unless it follows
Flowing water

Couldn’t stop
At the edge
We had to tilt
Into the valley

Where valley people
Have so little
To do but build
Their own cities

Harvest their amnenities


Cutis Anserina

Existential starlight
As the night
Bows in twilight

Soot of a black air
Is slowly swept away

Through the
Snoqualmie Pass

Over Teneriffe’s teeth
And North Bend valley peaks

Embers of Sol
Burn Ellensberg’s soul

As the visible spectrum
Scorches the grass

Into Yakima Valley
This twisting path

And the sun rises
Wiping the cold

Cool darkness
From your skin

As purple becomes pink
Hot reds melt nightish blues

And the warmth rises
Like wings to tomorrow

Day has been broken

Ellensberg, West, from the Water Tower

ellensberg towards the west from he vantage.JPG

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ellensberg towards the west from he vantage.JPG

Shot with a Canon EOS Digital Rebel XS; f/5.6; 1/4000; ISO-400; 55mm

There’s something about this city that draws me. Maybe it’s the stories. Maybe it’s the reputation. It could remind me of my old home, but I can’t deny that it’s not some kind of beautiful.



Out on plains
A wasteland
Of painted dirt

Of dirt roads
Of pathways of dust
And mountainous
Track through the
Teeth of cascadia

A blackgull’s call
Echoes from the top
Of the hill’s peak
When you peek over
The edge
To see

A new landscape
A different horizon
Of paint

Of dust

Of a journey made
To find
These plains