This grassed non-place; no-name scent-depth.
Hearts, thereout which bound
Young rabbit-furred, yearling-spotted
Filled with Earth-breathed love.
As free they, and ever fresh, to
This feeling state alone
Left; as I! Floaty peacefulness.
Still yet to drop out of!
I walked through the valley of darkness.
How breathtakingly beautiful it was.
Gaze of birds watching over me,
I draw a veil molded in ocher clay.
I walked holding my breath.
Unseen, the ticking sound of unseen birds,
I walked through that valley of darkness,
Drawing yet another veil.
I do not pray.
At least not in this moment.
Though my body is feminine,
Inheriting the wild instincts of a seven-generation cat,
Before a swarm of cockroaches can infect me in an instant,
I sense it beforehand and let out a fierce roar.
"Meow!" "Hssss!"
Why, you ask?
The life of the slum
Always cries out,
Even within its depths,
Building its own cruel pyramid,
To attack me—
Someone they deem even less than themselves.
I could be your valley boy when the city gets old
slice of home packaged up brand new, we can take it slow
wear that vest that first hit me in the supermarket aisle
I’ll wear short shorts
my hair messy, all the while
in your car we can talk about the years gone by
and you’ll tell me you’re sorry and I’ll ask why
breathe me in, hold me close
I’ll trace the hairs on your head
and I’ll have you wishing we did this years ago instead
I could be your valley boy if you’re feeling down
you feel like you have it all
you can’t explain your frown
give me the weight of how you’re feeling
I can take it all
you can’t believe how much I have changed since we left school
I could be your valley boy if you’ll allow it
stranger things have happened and these days I’m empowered
we don’t have to tell anyone it can be a secret
I’ll give you every part of me and you can keep it
deep in the valley
the train whistles and eats coal
trees lost in its smoke
Spring in the Valley
Spring breeze’s whisper through the hills,
Lavender wisteria spills
Over a mossy granite stone.
Air thick with heavy lilac fills,
Spring breeze’s whisper through the hills,
hanging on quiet valley stills,
Where lazy shadows creep alone.
Spring breeze’s whisper through the hills,
Lavender wisteria spills.
Soft, sweet and understanding
One's at peace in grass needs.
What's felt of this air's manner
Out whose heart so proceeds?
After a hastened drive up the mountain
I slavishly haul the fishing gear
To the edge of the dam
I set myself up as silent darkness approaches
Sitting waiting while wriggling worms wait on hooks
Consumed by alert relaxation
Sitting waiting
Sitting waiting
The darkness makes it even more quiet
My companions are the Southern Cross and moonlight
Sitting waiting
Sitting waiting
Then BANG!
Bending rod beckons me into action
Reeling in gently consistently
Beautiful brown gold and red spots
My dear little wild friend
I am sorry I am sorry I am sorry.
In shaded modest forests grow
the tiniest white bells pure as snow.
Their wild perfume will stop the show
beneath the charm of any rainbow.
AP: 1st place 2026
encountered Kittin
San Jose computer champ
job designing chips
Death Valley, When Dust Turns To Light
Oh Valley of Death how I have seen you come to life
from Mountains of Fire, from Dust to Light
through Passages of No Mans Lands Into Heavenly Doors
from Fields of Nothing to Bounty's where Wild Flowers Galore,
through Hills of Emptiness new Life births Forth
in Pastures of Desert Gold, Five Spots and Gravel Ghosts
where the Dunes of Time in it's Stillness speak of new Kingdoms to come
and the Winds that Rip and Flip the Sands only to Glisten as the Sun,
looking Upwards where Rose Sage and Lupine sing songs So High
where the few Dare to trek and the Stellar Hawks Fly,
and the Snow Capped Mountain Peaks breathe New Hope
and in Due Time, the Phantom Rivers Flow
and where the Sun Crucifies all that is touched
yet through the Cauldron of Flames we attain our Faith and Trust,
to Alchemize Indeed, Death Valley Knows such Creeds
that Nothing is Impossible when one Truly Believes
and so we hold Steadfast when Dusk turns to Night
for in every Promise Land, Dust Turns To Light
No chiming hour, no restless wheel of iron,
Shall break the silence of this mossy glen;
Far from the grave smoke of city-siren,
And all the weary, hurried ways of men.
Here, only whispers of the ancient pines,
Do teach the soul a calmer, deeper song,
Where dappled light in quiet glory shines,
And wild, free river-waters rush along.
I lay me down on banks of plush green,
A pagan heart within a wilder place,
To watch the shifting of the pastoral scene,
And look upon the sun’s unclouded face.
Let others seek the comfort of the stone,
And build their towers toward the vacant sky;
I find my solace in the woods alone,
Where simple truths within the shadows lie.
No glowing screen, nor telegraphic word,
Shall wake the spirit from this tranquil dream;
My voice is answered by the calling bird,
My mirror, the reflecting, silent stream.
Oh, give me back the forest and the bough,
The breath of earth, the twilight’s golden grace;
I break the chain of human labor now,
To find my heart in Nature’s soft embrace.
I'VE SEARCHED FOR HAPPINESS IN THE MIDDLE OF CHAOS.
SOUGHT FOR LIGHT IN THE DARKNESS.
ADAPTED TO THE DAY BECAUSE I WOULD ONLY COME ALIVE AND BE ACTIVE AT NIGHT.
SET OFF IN FEAR AND TREPIDATION, WHILE MANEUVERING AND HIDING IN THE SHADOWS.
ABSCONDING AND BEING ON THE RUN WAS ROUTINE
AND EMBEDDED IN MY DAILY LIFE.
DECISIONS, EXPERIENCES, AND LOST TIME ARE SCARS MARKED AND LEFT ON MY BODY.
X=Xylophones of wood make lovely music.
A=Around every hill and every
V=Valley filled with pretty wildflowers.
I=I love the sweet sounds,
E=Each ear is enjoying.
R=Rhythm that sooths the very soul.
sickness
Spills through the valley
Heavy like a winter river
Cold
My heart beats
A hollow thud
My eyes
Dry as the dust
My body shakes
It rattles and it bends
Yet I
Still refuse
Still I refuse
I will not die
When the sun sinks low
Past the edge of the hills
I will see Him
I will see Him
And all will be well
Yes all will be well
All will be well
At the table
He pulls out my chair
He satisfies
The hunger in my marrow
He wipes
Every salt stain
He binds
Every open cut
The past is a ghost
A shadow
Lost in the tall grass
A new dawn
A new dawn
Starts to climb
When the sun sinks low
Past the edge of the hills
I will see Him
I will see Him
And all will be well
Yes all will be well
All will be well
Maybe it hurts
Maybe I bleed
Maybe I wait
I smile at the thorn
I smile at the sting
I smile at the night
For now
Just for now
I hold it close
When the sun sinks low
Past the edge of the hills
I will see Him
I will see Him
And all will be well
Yes all will be well
All will be well
All will be well
Beyond the hills
I see Him
I see Him
It is well
Always prepare for the unexpected, as more often than not the unexpected will happen.
Always have a plan B, even better a plan C.
Quote by Poet.
I was heading into Death Valley to
deliver drums of oil to the research
station, a trip that I took every month,
our haulage firm called it the 'Hades run'.
The forecast was 129°f for that day,
all was going well when disaster struck,
a front tyre had blown and I swerved off
the road, Blast it I thought It’s all I need.
I reached for the cab radio that crackled
and then went dead and I cursed my luck.
An hour went by then two, I was beginning
to panic, no other soul on that lonely road.
Then the air-conditioning packed up and
the temperature rose in the cab and I got
out quick and into the shade under the truck,
and drank the two bottles of water that I had.
Six hours had now passed and I was struggling,
the heat was unbearable and I realised I’d
probably die.I thought I was dreaming when I
heard a voice shout, "Hey Buddy you okay there".
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