nothing to do with st. patty's day

i awoke; 
to twenty-six year sunshine
rising up the valley
two pine trees
three empty beer cans,
six cigarettes,
both my dreams, 
and all my insecurities 

one - that i will never make it home 
two - the dogs will bite
three - i spoke too soon 
four - i said too much 
five - you’d rather be somewhere else and
six - things would be different if only i had kissed her

these are my inhale,
swallowed (and today no exception) every morning
as casually as cereal; 
like daily memorials
to the hope i'd have it all together, 
to the wish to dream away or dream forever, 
her - 
lovely i could only start to pen unfinished words to,
soul alive to spark a window wide enough to peak through, 
will so brave i soon became the one that needed rescue,

are you ready? 
because when i start to speak
she will see 
that the bridges in my love songs 
have lost all the safety they once promised, 
forever 
looks more 
like aged rope, tattered boards 
and the canyons of an indiana jones film, 
than a welcomed invitation to love me; 

yes, i do believe in romance 
i'm only frightened to admit it 
to anyone that knows i'm much too cowardly to get it 

but some days, 
one must inch out onto the limbs of his hopeful 
as if all things passed were now reflected off his fears into daylight,
as if the broken bones and the scars are again merely what’s to come;
only we can see them 
only we can hear them, and feel them
like a thumping in our chest 
and a voice out west 
saying i dare you: 
failure is an option, 
but she is beautiful 
and heartbreak is only my rough draft

today in mango trees

to borrow a page from t.s. eliot 
'i have measured my life 
(better, 
am measuring my minutes), 
in mango trees' 

in the rungs on the ladder, 
the ups and downs 
and the top;

both feet steady,
with a pool net reaching outward 
and two hands ready below; 

in catching, 
in missing, 
in picking up the pieces
and harvesting what remains whole; 

in a sunday afternoon, 
in the friend who stuck around,
in remembering 
and the joy it gives  

today

with lime and again

some nights are meant for being productive,
some are for doing perfectly nothing,
and others are for sitting 
in the general proximity of old friends,
having a beer 
with lime and again - 
feeling the excitement to be alive. 

Hike to the Boqueron & 'Volcano' by Damien Rice

I had the chance to take two Californians, Martin and Jerry of Kean Coffee, up to the El Boqueron - San Salvador. Took a few pictures and asked a lot of volcano questions, while Martin, a former archeologist, who shared extensively about the workings of volcanic eruptions and how they develop and form such a structure. Solid hike and lunch at Las Brumas, overlooking San Salvador. By days end all the talk of volcanos had me thinking of a favorite, plus another favorite, singing this tune. 

)

JM Barrie 'Peter Pan'

(In a sort of way he understands what he means by "Yes, I know," but in most sorts of ways he doesn't. It has something to do with the riddle of his being. If he could get the hang of the thing his cry might become "To live would be an awfully big adventure!" but he can never quite get the hang of it, and so no one is as gay as he. With rapturous face he produces his pipes, and the Never Birds and the Fairies gather closer till the roof of the little house is so thick with his admirers that some of them fall down the chimney. He plays on and on till we wake up).