wild to remain

when i enter your garden

i pass through no gate

simply onward the trail 

to your highest peak 

i have never known a way like yours 

and you have never known a wandering like mine 

still i welcome your curves 

and you invite my pace 

we are lovers to the unmapped path

our forward takes 

you are the brightest sun 

you are the clearest sky

you are the piercing heat i feel inside 

you are the stone and dirt beneath my feet 

you are the pattern of the butterfly

you are as many colors as the wildflowers 

you are the ones i had yet to see

you are the fragrance of lupine 

you are the shapes and lines in the leaves

you are the strong wind that blows through the branches of the palm trees

you are the sharpness of the needle grass

you are the cactus thorn 

you are the blood that pours 

you are the smile that forms 

you are the knowing that wounds heal 

you are the cry the coyote sings 

your are the hummingbird's wings

you are the lizard that hurries on 

you are the highest note of the sparrows song

you are the coolest breeze 

you are the view from the mountain 

you are the slow decent

you are the softly content

you are homeward 

when i depart from your garden

i steal not a single flower

still your sun

has burnt all of me that i made bare

still your thorn 

stings to the touch

still your song 

is known to my tongue 

still your scars 

are now mine to call home 

so you 

untethered for the on and on 

untamed for always

you are free to grow 

and wild to remain

Til I Get to You

come find me tonight, los angeles

if you ever want to see the sunrise, head to the beach, lantana florida, look for both sliding doors open on my white minivan and those months just after my seventeenth birthday. if you ever want to feel the sea, come swim with me, headfirst into the mediterranean, we'll come up for air just where the surface of the water meets that last bit of sundown. if you ever want to hear what the stars are whispering, hike to the top of bear island - kodiak alaska, in the middle of the night with just a sleeping bag and the infiniteness of our early twenties. if you ever want to feel your heart skip a beat, drink four too many whiskeys in her dad's garage, fumble for the letters to spell out what you've been thinking, and quiver when you say that you love her for the first time. if you ever want to tempt eternity, take the red eye home to el salvador, not knowing when you're gonna say it to her eyes again. if you ever want to open your lungs up wide, drive out to california, pedal the pavement, rent an apartment, rescue a cat, make love and come out on just the right side of enough, to breathe one more day to payday goddam if you ever want to watch a resurrection, come find me tonight, los angeles.

night on john's rock

when i started writing, i attempted to force meaning into my words; to fill my story with heavy statements, and try and give depth to what, in the end was simple. and perhaps that’s where i realized that a story didn’t need to be significant, to have significance, so long as it was told on that side of redemption that makes us all the more beautiful in the end, helps us to stand up taller, stronger, and better than we truly are - were folks to see beneath all the forgiveness we're wearing. and i couldn’t be more convinced, that the beauty in a story is not in how well it seems to unfold, but in how one chooses to see and tell it after all; and at the difficult end of most days, i must try to believe that my story can be better than my worst mistakes, can amount to more than my failures, and end with the sun rising. remembering this trip with my brother, helps me to believe that it really can be. 

- - - - - 

the best trip i have ever taken, was up to pisgah national forest with my brother alan. it was 2006, and the second semester of my freshman year of college. him being a senior, we had one year of overlap together at the same university. 

my oldest sister, janice, had given birth to our first nephew, Trey Alan the previous january, and our family had decided to spend the easter weekend up there in asheville where she and my brother in law were living. being stoked as ever to be back on the road, alan and i loaded backpacks into our mothers mini van, and took off that thursday morning, driving the 12 hours straight through until we hit asheville, where we met up with everyone else in our family, and hung out with our new nephew that night.

all of good friday was spent with family, taking turns getting spit up on, helping with projects around the house and competing in the ever present card and marble games my family is notorious for. but beneath it all, loomed something in my brothers eyes - something that longed for the outdoors, and as hard as it would be to set down our nephew and the card games, something in me knew he'd find it. 

the weekend Trey was born, alan and i had driven up for a week to see him; and despite having been the first week of february, and the middle of winter, we had spent two nights in the surrounding hills, in a national forest they called pisgah. and already by that second night of easter weekend, i knew alan was ready to get back into the mountains as soon as a break presented itself in the family plans; and so, while he paraded and mapped out our anticipation, i performed my younger brother responsibilities of delicately explaining to everyone in the family why we needed to go, and that we would indeed return.  

just one night we said, and we meant it, knowing that half of adventure is in the decision to set out; the other half in coming home. after all, we only wanted to remind ourselves of what those hills looked and felt like, and to be still for a moment. quantity of time has always been and always will be, an accessory. 

saturday afternoon, alan and i loaded up the car, and with a few instructions from a neighbor headed in the direction of pisgah national forest. i can’t remember if it was in our excitement then or when we left south florida, but somehow we managed to leave the tent behind; but besides a short and passionate session of alan’s expletives yelled into the steering wheel of my brother in law’s car, we were relatively unfazed; and made it to the park about an hour before sundown. 

our backpacks were light, holding only our sleeping bags, plus the food for dinner and breakfast the following morning. we told one another we’d hike long enough until we found a good spot, and call it a night. after a mile or two of walking, we came to john’s rock; a bare, rounded edged cliff that overlooked the valley. we dropped our packs. alan unloaded the camp stove and cooking supplies my family had gifted him the christmas prior, and starting warming a single can of soup we’d brought along for dinner. i withdrew a book and read a few pages by the fading sunlight, and built a fire. thirty minutes or so later, we sat by firelight and warmth, and spooned mouthfuls of sausage gumbo onto triscuit crackers, commenting that those crackers had been the purchase of the trip. never have a i eaten so little and never have i been so full. 

and so the evening passed, and i couldn’t even tell you what we talked about, how well we slept, or even how beautiful the sunrise was; and never have details mattered less to how happy we were on that rock face, by a fire, sleeping under stars, and waking up knowing the brother we loved most wasn’t too far away. few things went right that night. in fact, a great many of the important things went wrong, but we awoke to easter morning, and never has a day past since then that would make me tell that story any less than the greatest trip i have ever taken.

selene selene (selene near the sea)

the only thing that will dry a rainy afternoon in venice,

is to pause for a cigarette 

and the girl reading something opposite the cafe.

i was nervous to ask your name

because i knew it'd be a hard one to let go. 

i asked, 

why aren't you wearing your crown today; 

you answered: what? so i said, 

never mind. 

who are you?  you asked.

i told you the wind,

and you thought about it for a second. 

do i know any french? 

only how to smile,

but you'll have to wait until you know me well enough to hear it. 

we were, 

seated next to a window 

bordering the exposition of pastries and treats;

all the passerby's pressed their noses and grins against the glass, 
pressed their noses and nationalities into us;

snapping photos of the chocolate row boats and candy bananas;

i said, 

if you need proof that we're celebrities, 

check out the lady with the british flag umbrella. 

selene selene
are you naturally guarded, 

or are you purposefully attempting to make me want you desperately?

either way, i'm not bothered;

only be conscious that i will begin to love you. 

i've always known beautiful gets more colorful with time,

i just never knew a face could wear so many shades. 

you asked what i was writing down; 

and i told you, a good thought i do not want to forget. 

you inquired if you could see; 

so i said: always, 

there are mirrors everywhere.

maybe you are perfect, 

maybe i just imagine so in the story i'm telling. 

whichever is true; i'm fine with the reality. 

you were never flesh and bone 
until you let me walk you home. 

i was cold the entire way; 

but you looked back as we parted, and that felt really good inside. 

-----

(people question if i have a love life, 

and i tell them, only with the ghosts. 

no a real one? they say.

well then yes surely, 

we all feel the rain, don't we)? 

-----

i suppose love is like Venice:

i'm never quite sure if i'm lost or found, 

but it's always near the sea. 

Elsa

the little girl dancing 
in red rain boots is beautiful. 
her blonde hair 
bounces with her feral foot steps 
and she giggles like she knows god. 

she offers me a french fry, 
and when i chomp down 
like some savage, 
she completely loses control. 
she cannot have more than two years, 
and yet she and I 
have been running in a field called playful 
for centuries, and all morning. 
her nanny speaks spanish. 
we have the same level. 
cual es tu color favorito?
and she tells me. 
(if the world spoke as children; 
the only thing we'd be lacking in the lives we lived 
would be theories on how to do so). 

she is unpredictable. 
her mind is mapless. 
she slides, 
hands first, 
up and down the cafe stairs like fingers on a piano. 
the entire room is resounding in the melody of her exultation. 
i am singing along. 
she is back for more. 

she launches 
onto the booth seat next to her mother. 
her father, reaches a hand to catch a potential tumble backwards, 
but only instinctually. 
they continue speaking. 
she is on parade. 
she tramples my books and things. 
her destruction is unwavering, (as are pardons to the joyfully accidental). 
i speak quietly to the apologetic mother.
there are countless pens, journals and rucksacks in Germany. 
there is only one radiant - red rain boot dancing Elsa. 
thank you.

............

a solitary coffee is, at times, like a companionship eviction notice. 
when i finished this one, this morning, 
i saw god in the dregs. 
he doesn't always look like the paintings, but he does look like we need him to.

some day, 
Elsa will organize her dancing. 
always, 
Munich will smile 
from march winter and thursday morning;
at least at me anyway. 

Let's Talk Coffee 2012: the next generation in relationship coffee

Today, at the near start of a new harvest, I will have the opportunity to travel, on behalf of Cuatro M, to Antioquia, Colombia; to attend an event hosted by Sustainable Harvest Coffee Importers (Portland, OR - USA), titled Let's Talk Coffee: The next generation of relationship coffee.   

Sustainable Harvest themselves, are a coffee importing company based in Portland, Oregon, that we work with and export coffee to over the course of the harvest. With offices and staff then based all over the coffee growing world, their business model structures itself around the idea of relationship coffee & transparency; meaning that their goal in importing coffee, is to do so from farmers that they have direct relationships with, and work with year round, and in a manner that is visible and honest with the financial aspects of the buying and selling.  

Beginning Thursday; and over the course of four days, lectures, discussion, and workshops will take place within the coffee producing country of Colombia, all related to the topic of specialty coffee, its development over the past decades, its state, and its future. 

The idea or, theme of the summit is, "the next generation of relationship coffee," which in essence promotes the principles of community, innovation, and growth; driven toward the idea of joining farmers and millers with roasters to talk about themes within the coffee industry; linked by the importer, Sustainable Harvest. 

Since Cuatro M is a miller and supplier of coffee to Sustainable Harvest, they are providing for all of the expenses of my trip while in Columbia, something they contribute to each individual coffee supplier they work with. 

Having spent the last few weeks reading over the program of events that will take place during Let's Talk Coffee, my head is packed with  ideas that I desire to share and take away from the week. I am perhaps most excited to meet with other farmers and millers, and hear about the manner in which they have developed over the last decades as a result of both their work with Sustainable Harvest, and the specialty coffee industry. 

Understanding the history of development within the coffee industry,  and recognizing that the specialty industry is less than a half century old, I begin to realize that folks working today, are the very ones who have seen the most dramatic changes, and improvements; and can therefore attest most vividly to the development at work across the coffee growing world. 

I am eager to hear those stories. I am eager to listen to folks talk about markets, and develop relationships various members of the specialty community. I am eager to put forth my questions regarding the still urgent need for development in much of coffee growing world, and to hear responses from folks who spend their careers making that happen; and over the course of the next week and a half, I hope to introduce, share some of my expectations for, give updates, and offer a final response to those things learned and experienced at Let's Talk Coffee 2012. 

Into Denver, Coda Coffee: Mile High

The train from San Francisco to Denver, was likely some of the most beautiful country I've ever seen. A 9:10 am departure from Emeryville, CA, Fri. May 18; brought us along the bay area for the better part of an hour, and into an ascent up the Sierra Nevada Mountains.                                                                                                                             I've got a handful more pictures to put up of that climb, as well as descriptions of my two favorite people aboard the train, two elderly men, who worked for a local railroad museum near San Francisco, along for the ride, to teach passengers about the history of the transcontinental railroad. Likely the most enthusiastic and lively individuals regarding trains in the entire U.S., as well as the most competitive, which made for the most informative and entertaining ride over the mountains and down into Nevada, as they bickered about facts and landmarks like six year old geniuses, before detouring above and around the Rockies, due to construction on the mountain tracks. Briefly Wyoming, and we were southbound into Denver, CO from the northeast. Slightly ironic, yet good for spotting buffalo, arriving in Denver Saturday evening, just after 5 pm. 

I was picked up by Tommy Thwaites of Coda Coffee, and driven to their roastery, just outside the city. Coda is a wholesale roaster, based in Denver, who has purchased coffee from Cuatro M, for four years now. They have been a big part of some of our community initiatives, donating much of their profits back to the communities that surround the farms where they purchase their coffee. They have named this project Farm 2 Cup and been active in visiting both the farm and local communities in not only El Salvador, but also Guatemala, and Honduras. 

I spent most of the evening, touring their roastery, brewing a Kenyan coffee in the Trifecta, and discussing a range of things related to not only their end of the business, but also the growing end, where Coda has begun looking into the development of organic fertilizers; and have shipped some down to Finca El Manzano in El Salvador, where we've been observing the results. 

We closed out the night in downtown Denver, touring the new kiosks and shops Coda has begun to open up throughout the downtown area. A new venture, but exciting to explore the possibilities within the cafe side of the industry. We eventually met up with Tim Thwaites at Mellow Mushroom. More awesome conversation commenced, along with laughter, which resulted in my eventual spraying of a mouthful of water all over both Tim and Tommy, (brothers by the way); not exactly the most charming gesture toward business partners, but none the less, an indication of how much I enjoyed the company and hospitality of these two guys. 

Hope it wasn't the last time I'll get to laugh at these two guys stories. I love the work their doing in Denver, and in El Salvador, and only hope that we continue this relationship into the future. 

through the cascades and briefly wyoming

San Francisco, CA: coffee town

A lot of catching up to do, and perhaps not the most productive in a hurry. Many thoughts to take away from a visit to the specialty coffee community of San Francisco; the number one city, in my opinion, in terms of carrying out and driving, what is happening in specialty coffee; more thoughts perhaps for a later time. 

On behalf of Cuatro M, I was able to visit with two Roaster/Cafes, Ritual and Sightglass Coffee Roasters; both big characters within the coffee scene of the bay area. 

Ritual, a current partner of ours, featuring coffee from Finca El Naranjo, a farm in Apaneca, ES that we have to privilege to work with and process coffee for. At their roastery and lab, I had the chance to cup all of their El Salvadoran coffee offerings; which were awesome to taste side by side; and listen to Steve, their green coffee buyer, narrate the story and characteristics of each farm and cup. 


With Sightglass, I had the chance to cup coffees out of Finca El Manzano; and talk about the potential for a relationship between our two companies. I spent much that Thursday with C.C., the green coffee buyer for Sightglass; and as he and I peddled to and from different cafes and shops; we sorted through the idea of how to bring newness to the industry; both at the shop and relationship level of the trade; trying to do more to translate the goals of objectives of a roaster/cafe into the actual cup tasting experience. 

A short but good stay in San Francisco, then out Friday morning, to the centennial state; for a visit with Coda Coffee Roasters in Denver.  

Sightglass Coffee Roasters: 7th ST

Ritual Coffee Roasters: Valencia ST. 

Alamo to Jack London, (and the faces that spell here and there)

 

Doug, fill those Marfat desert skies with a thousand love songs. Marry that girl, and love her like parents never taught us how.  even if solely, for the late night along San Antonio river walk; where we smoke too many cigarettes, and the rain falls hard on the umbrella-less; but by gol what-a-burger!

Ali, you are the desert ghost that never was, and always will be. Paint me the indian wilderness and i will make it home; you will reincarnate as my neighbor; and we will neither work, nor cease living. Until then, San Diego.

Hunter, why i didn't take a photo, i'll never know. but forever, now remember that they aren't necessary for those who only need the present. Good luck in alaska; save the Juno forests, and make park ranger botanist history.

Mike, David, Aunt Lory; no other span of almost two hours, has more been made of.

window seat to oblivion

 Near El Paso, Texas 

Approaching Tucson, Arizona

 Leaving Los Angeles, California

Santa Barbara, California 

Middle of nowhere, California 

Before San Jose, California

Z. Cole's Graduation: May 12, 2012

Saturday, Zach Cole graduated from Dallas Theological Seminary, with a Masters in Theology. I got the chance to travel up and stay with him and Kayla for the weekend, as well as both of their parents, and Zach's brothers, Jared and Seth.

The neatest thing of all to see, was the pride displayed by Zach's dad, Tim, watching his son graduate from his own Alma mater; so when the the organ filled the air and Zach marched into the sanctuary with his red cape and tassel, and he teared up, I knew what true love for a son looked like from the outside. 

It's friends like these that remind us most of the goodness of grace. I tried, and likely did a bad job at communicating to Zach the lengths of thankfulness that I have for his part in my life; and on days when I feel self-pity for not having his caliber within my everyday; it is joy to think of the eternal quality of heaven; and I mean that.

And I think we both sense it in the awkwardness of a 'take care man.' There is nothing fluid within a goodbye to those one lives life most naturally, purely, with.

And so it was; as he drove back through downtown Dallas, to class, over the marked white 'x' in the highway, over the place JFK was shot a second time; and I entered the train station.