The California Chronicles

Vollmer Peak

Sat, 13 Apr 2013 00:00:00 -0700

On the trail to Vollmer Peak, we stopped below a switchback to listen to an owl. Soon, we saw two owls. We called to them, and sure enough one turned itself around, and looked down at us. It sat still, and quiet, and held our gaze for as long as we stopped to look. I´ve heard a tale that this is an example of what the Apache call “good medicine”.

An owl´s eyes
can see mine,
from the black tree.

Alone on the peak, we watched the final moments of the sunset, and felt the dropping temperatures. The glare diminished and the windsongs began to play louder. The day is done.

What is that sound?
Of wind crossing needles
and rustling grass?

DSJ

In the Grassy Grass

Fri, 12 Apr 2013 00:00:00 -0700

DSJ

Picnickers of the Santa Ynez

Sat, 30 Mar 2013 00:00:00 -0700

EYR

Panorancho

Fri, 29 Mar 2013 00:00:00 -0700

EYR

Foggy Golden Gate

Thu, 28 Mar 2013 21:00:00 -0700

DSJ

Desert Verse

Thu, 28 Mar 2013 00:00:00 -0700

In the blooming Colorado
Bees give prickly pears their graces
And we seek the sweetest shade
Beneath the palms in the oasis

Through the yuccas and the succulents
We tromp with mounting fervor
To slake our thirst in purple shade
As cool and thick as sherbet

Where lizards skulk in creviced rock
And snakes evade depiction
The chirping of the birds
Arises like a benediction

The vista-hungry traveler
(Once the image is implanted)
Beholds the ancient mastodon
In mounds of monzogranite

As the lowly wizened cholla
Wears his mane of thorns with brio
So crimson flowers are held aloft
By lordly ocotillo

Not the loftiest sequoia
Nor the all-embracing banyan
Cast a shadow quite as welcome
As the rock walls of the canyon

EYR

City Walks

Tue, 26 Mar 2013 12:29:22 -0700

At least the phones
dip our gaze down
towards the poor man’s face.

DSJ

Watching the Streets

Mon, 25 Mar 2013 21:00:00 -0700

I looked up
long enough to notice
life, living all over.

The fat men
In the Mission
are on bicycles.

What the crazies must think,
us in our scarves, shoes
and castle houses.

DSJ

The Movie Colony Hotel

Sun, 24 Mar 2013 00:00:00 -0700

The poolside speakers pipe in songs sung by the very stars who once graced the same shade under these palms.

EYR

San Jacinto in Repose

Sun, 24 Mar 2013 00:00:00 -0700

In the Southern California desert, mirages and faded flashbulb bursts rule the day, and wonder can be had for a tram ride.

EYR

Sunny Afternoon

Fri, 22 Mar 2013 21:00:00 -0700

The breeze drifted swiftly across the bay, cooling our ears and our hearts. The breaths we took as we trudged up the rolling green hills of the park slowed when we found a sunny spot to take in the view.

So many of my visits to the outdoors these days are initiated by gasps, huge gasps of air and huge sighs of relief. Whether it’s the world on my shoulders or the pace of my travels, taking a ramble through the reeds reorients my soul. I feel fresh, for a moment.

DSJ

Territorial Musings

Sun, 17 Mar 2013 00:00:00 -0700

The men who climb the shoulder of Diablo by bike look down on the surrounding territory from a loftier vantage than their nineteen hundred feet above sea level might suggest.

The lordly oak, ever a hospitable host, hoists these men aloft and fetes them in his shade.

EYR

Through Morgan Territory

Sat, 16 Mar 2013 21:00:00 -0700

Crank, crank, crank. My legs weren’t lifting me as they had in my dreams prior to this grueling ride. The green hills, dotted with olive-colored oaks seemed so soft on the eyes, and yet like frozen fire on the legs.

I climbed and climbed, watching my companions zip around the bends in the road hundreds of feet ahead of me, and I sipped deep breaths out of the sky and blew great gusts of lazy air out of my dusty lungs as I climbed ever higher. A land with the name ¨territory¨ is sure to be edgeless and everlasting, and the crooked valleys and ice cream peaks of Morgan Territory are exactly that. Where am I? Am I high, am I low? Where are we going?

I couldn’t even muster a haiku; even the shortest of kus was lost in the lungs.

Suddenly, we were on top. The hot sun greeted my pale flesh, my companions waited patiently, and cheered my victory over gravity, over earth. I plopped on the ground beside an ancient oak, on the shifting line of the canopy’s shadow at the edge of the hillside and opened my pad. I sat for almost an hour, getting to know this landscape with the help of my generous brush:

Near me sat B and E, each on their own cold pressed journey. Lines whipped like cirrus clouds, folding and unfolding into scenes that only the mind can recall. Close to me sat Eliot, hunkered over his drawing as usual, chuckling to himself as he rendered Bob again as the shirtless Saint of Nature. Beyond him, I saw the dry mountains.

DSJ

By the Bay

Thu, 14 Mar 2013 21:00:00 -0700

Around the towering clock
Life clicks and ticks. Near feet,
past mouths; a man urinates.

DSJ

In the BART Tunnel

Wed, 13 Mar 2013 19:36:10 -0700

Underneath the mud
The cab is packed; her neck is on my nose
A stranger is close.

DSJ

Satellite Bros, Part I

Mon, 11 Mar 2013 00:14:00 -0700

The ocean was calling today, and the sun was pulling people west, over the horizon as it exclaimed, “I am here for another hour today! Join me for this exalted hour of sunshine!” We obliged. We danced in the sun and let our canines run free, pattering upon the sand. Pure delight this afternoon, pure delight, for all creatures.

Stumbling down sand bottoms
Co-mingling mammals
Unleashed

Only later did I realize that the sun had called out to all bros, shining on their antennae, pulling them over the horizon. Without a word to one another, we came to Pacific on the very same day, at the very same hour, and let lines linger on our pages…

DSJ

A Casual Glance across the Bay

Mon, 04 Mar 2013 21:00:00 -0800

DSJ

A Jaunty Jones

Mon, 04 Mar 2013 21:00:00 -0800

EYR

San Bruno and Davidson in Deep Dusk

Sun, 03 Mar 2013 21:00:00 -0800

EYR

Grotto Bros

Sat, 02 Mar 2013 21:00:00 -0800

Cloudy pelt
Sun, breeze barely felt
Velvet day

Bob’s dome grows to fill the open column through the foliage above the grotto. He is off on a beard binge, feasting on the fruits of a hairy brown forest.

Jones charms the very gravel that paves his path of travel. Finely lined, he nestles beneath the ferns, reflecting.

EYR