Hot pollen snow
Clouds the soil like stars
Swirling around a galactic core

Gravity’s hand is pushed away
In favor of the cosmic breeze
Whisking them through the day

Leftovers from cast incantations
Spells from a book of maps
Full of blank spots

As it casts through the paths
Found by the pioneers
The world venators

Who rise to the challenge
Of slaughtering flora
In pursuit of discovery

They set out
And find what they’re
Searching for

Pollen dust
Billowing from branches
And weighted leaves

Like smoke from fire
Where there’s a forest
There’s a pathfinder

Never-Be-Memories – Journal 11/4/17

I had a dream last night that I haven’t been able to phrase at all in a poem for some reason or another. Perhaps I’m becoming more averse to writing about dreams that mean nothing. I don’t want to be one of “those” creators. Like the guy who made the LSD Dream Simulator some years back. That would be more terrifying than a sewer clown, that’s for sure.

So I’m gonna be using my journal here to describe something I dreamed about last night, throwing its interpretation to the wind for all the lovely boys and girls who tune in to Reality City.

I’m going to preface this by asking: have you ever seen the Daniel Tosh bit about describing dreams? If you haven’t, his bit is essentially about how stupid everybody sounds when they start describing their dreams. Basically all dreams are relative, and they will seldom be as impactful to someone else as they are to the person that actually “experienced” it. Get it? Cool!

Last night I dreamed that I was staying at a hostel in India. Not a hostel like the movie, but a rather alright one. The group of people staying there were actually rather nice. Good atmosphere, even if the place was a little dingy. At one point I realized a cockroach was in the building and I freaked out. It was a female, close to laying its eggs. One of the locals in the group got rid of it. As a group we went to cool places in the north part of the country near the Himalayas. Some temples. Some urban places, and just generally enjoyed the feeling of being there. In the dream was a moment of inclement weather, where rain seemed to come down like sheets of glass and shattered into water when it touched a surface. It was incredible. The dream ended there. Visiting India is on my top places to travel, right up there with New Zealand.

I don’t dream too often when I sleep. So I like to write them down somehow. I used to have a dream log way back when I had my iPhone 3. That was stolen from me when I was a junior in high school, and it was never recovered.

There’s a fellow PHS alum out there somewhere who stole those nights of never-be-memories from me. If they’re out there listening to Radio Reality City, I hope that you appreciated that phone and used it well, but I know you probably sold it off to someone who wiped it and cleared the hard drive of any of me.

I’d probably be making poems upon poems of those things now.

But instead I’m writing about identity, dying, sex, and living. Odd set of themes to put together. There’s a lot I want to say, and I am definitely building steam for some kind of blowout op piece to appear as a journal, soon. Maybe as a fully blown article someday if I’m willing to do some journalistic work.

No excerpt tonight. I’ve had an incredibly long weekend. I drove up to Bellingham and back to get some friends from the airport last night. I arrived at 10:45 PM and got home at 1:38 AM. I fell asleep and woke up 11 hours later.

Bellingham looked so gorgeous last night. It’s been snowing here this past day and a half, but it hasn’t stuck at all. Just before I reached Bellingham last night, it was evident that in the city the snow stuck. So in the darkness near midnight in Bellingham, Washington I was able to look at the city under a blanket of streetlights and white dust on everything.

I love the cold. I love the ice that coats the roads and the snow that buries soil and reflects the dim light from night time lamps. Winter is fast approaching, and right now we’re at a beautiful point.

I’ve referred to this as the Blackgull point before. Wrote the poem about it. Blackgull: where the air is so clear that a seagull under cover of darkness can call for the approaching storm of winter. Just after autumn, just before winter, like it’s own microseason. Leaves on the ground not yet swept away, and trees barren, bearing the weight of all that snow.

We’re nearly there.

This is Jake Thomas Shaw from Radio Reality City, concerned with dreams, memories, and identity. Thank you for tuning in, as always, and if you’ve liked any of what you’ve heard take a listen to!

Consume reality!

Radio Reality City!


Gym, Coffee, Tuition – Journal 3/31/17

One thing that is incredibly difficult to do when writing is to steer completely clear of cliches. There are some perfectly good things that can be written about that are honest to god cliches already by the time you think about writing them. At least maybe not cliches, but simply things that aren’t given good representation when they ARE written about.

Have you ever tried to write erotica? God damn, that shit is D I F F I C U L T. No wonder there’s a market for the 50 Shades series (however open about sexuality that might be sometimes, I hear that the second book does it better).

It’s not even a touchy genre like that that’s somewhat misrepresented or hard to do, it can be entire ideas in a piece.

Blood? To me, it’s too much associated with angst to just drop in the middle of something. That and bones can sometimes be a little weird outside of juxtaposition. Though, I argue that mentioning bones as a form of imagery or symbolism can be a lot better and in fact much heavier than using blood. Which is why those two are interchangable, and both aren’t done well to different degrees.

Yesterday I published “Posed To Kill Me Thermally” which was supposed to be about climbers that died on the way up the largest mountains on Earth. Everest was in mind, as were the other eight-thousanders. In that poem, the opening three lines are: “Dry blood and bone dust/ Make up the sand and snow/ On the slope”. Bone dust is used throughout the poem as a hyperbolic reference to what all the snow really is. In this poem, though, the theme was centered around that and I wasn’t going to get away from it with a kenning. The spirit and vitality of those once living climbers having been stripped away and become part of the mountain. I had to use something that could be cliched and make it unique.

I stress that if you come across them, don’t avoid cliches entirely, take them and make them something new and unique to you.

While I’m talking about Poised To Kill Me Thermally, I think it would be remiss of me not to mention my creative universe that it all revolves around. Metametaphors are what I’m good at. So that poem is part of a series with “Poikillmethermal” and “Poikilothermal” all describing more or less the same scene but with a progressively darker tone, culminating in the bone shards of climbers making the snow. Poikilothermal was written while listening to the Xilent song “Kill Me”, because when it came out I was housesitting in North Bend and had a glorious view of Mount Si. So with that song I made an association with the cold, snow, mountains, and forest. Also in Poised To Kill Me Thermally is a reference to my “Murmur” series (Murmur, Palpitation, Irregular, Flutter), in which stained glass is a metaphor for cherished memories. Those poems themselves have further references, and so on. In my mind, they’re all part of the same creative universe. Abstract, macabre, reality, whatever.

Anyways, outside of the writing sphere, I’m going to the gym today. My girlfriend and I have agreed to try to make this a regular thing. I want it to stick! Maybe it’ll give me something to write about, seeing as I have never ever been to a gym to ‘go to the gym’. Usually this is the start of a 4chan greentext, but hey, I’m going in with an open mind. Hopefully nothing awful happens. Gonna charge my bluetooth headphones, and do some cardio!

Also today is tuition day! As soon as I get a paycheck, it gets pried from my hands! So I’m still a starving artist for the meantime and you should check out my story Natural on today buy it now yes please!

Kidding aside, that’s where I’m at today. Gym, coffee, tuition, and bone dust acting as the snow at the top of Everest.

Spring quarter’s starting up soon, and what I’m hoping will be the greatest class of all time “ADVANCED WRITING” popped up on my course list today online. Hooooo boy, that’s going to be fantastic. I haven’t properly workshopped since that poetry class I took last spring. Advanced Writing, though. Man, I love the sound of that. I’m gonna enjoy having that notch on my gun.