Tag Archives: time

Twelve Minutes

Here’s an old, old poem from my journals. I was probably twenty-one.

 


 

Ten minutes, twelve

A slim segment of

Boundless possibilities

Life-changing structure

Structureless life

Miracles and sanity and reason and hope

Whirl in twelve minutes

Six minutes

So much in six minutes

If you keep halving it

You’ll keep having it

The end will never come

If you focus

Try hard enough

Escape the impermeability

The wretched maze

Of time

 

Time doesn’t tick anymore

It squeezes in silence

And bloats our fears

And miles yawn before us

And thirty-odd years

And when the end happens

We’ll look back and see

Just nothing, black nothing

And eternity

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

Inktober Comic – Last Minute

 

Last Minute, page 11. It’s been renamed. I seem to recall saying this would be a five or six page comic. Ha!

It still needs proper scanning and shading and a little bit of Photoshop, but I’m just happy to have completed something!

I wanted to post it in full today to celebrate Halloween, so we’re going with my draft pages. At least the whole story is told. I’ll probably clean it up later.

Now get back to work!

 

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Measuring in Decades

 

The older I get

The more time me stretches out behind me

Once I measured my life in weeks

Now I measure in decades.

That milestone, ten years ago

This one fifteen.

I once lived a whole lifetime in fifteen years.

Now I’ve lived two.

Time is a funny thing

It starts out slow

And if you’re not careful

It picks up speed

Like a freight train

Before you know it

You run out of track

So put on the brakes.

Breathe

Savor

And measure

This living moment

In seconds.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

Bur Oak

 

Sorry I haven’t been too responsive lately. Things have gotten busy!

 


 

Today two friends and I cycled out to the Bur Oak

Locally celebrated as the oldest tree around.

We rested in its shade

Picnicked

Painted.

A frail old man with a cane arrived

Guided by a woman and a little boy.

It was evident his family adored him.

They spoke eagerly about what to show him next.

The old man saw my friend painting and was pleased.

He had gone to art school.

He was very honorable, soft spoken, knowledgeable and kind.

After they left,

Three carfuls of Chinese students showed up.

Amidst the clamor one of them said, without irony,

“It’s so peaceful!”

We got to talking.

Before we knew it

A beautiful slight thirty something woman

Was leading us all in a Tai Chi exercise.

She taught us Chinese words as we followed her movements.

Four motorcyclists arrived

In matching Harley Davidson jackets.

They found a spot amongst the roots

And made brash, cheerful gossip.

 

Of these very different people

Every one was here to see the tree.

Some casually leaned against it.

Some circled it.

Some squealed for a picture with it.

Some hugged it.

Some climbed among its roots.

Some solemnly sat and revered it.

 

How many people

Has this tree seen come and go?

What does time even mean

To something so ancient?

For most of its life

It had little significance

Growing up among peers.

Time passed

And all the trees around it fell.

Why did it remain standing?

A farmer’s passing fancy?

A fluke?

Or did it have value even then to someone

Beyond all other trees?

 

Now it takes our human adoration

Our traffic

Our abuse

All our attentions, for better or worse

And still it stands

Breathes

Drinks

Takes sun

Makes acorns

Towers.

 

Trees know something we don’t know.

We play at their ankles like children

Drawn to what they have

But never understanding why.

 

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