Wednesday, September 3, 2014

First in a while, and a long line I hope

Cody was pretty upset. He sent me and the rest of us some pissy text messages. Greens and yellows like the Costa Rica shirt I gave him, off my back, for his birthday last year. A savannah maybe, and some protective, electric or nuclear fencing guarding who knows what. What lay inside is lost now. And it looked like something out of the show Lost. Or The X-Files when Moulder is in Costa Rica. Pretty skimpy.

Wednesday, April 23, 2014

Hosts Samantha Sigmon and Martin Bemberg chat it up with Gwendolyn Wind, up and coming Queen of the Scene. In this episode we discuss the local music scene and other stuff. Recorded, produced and engineered by Martin Bemberg of villewave records.

Tuesday, April 22, 2014

We Must Tend Our Garden

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         I spend declining days beneath
the to and fro of sunshine
on one of two verandas.
I lose at chess with heaven is pals,
and when my sweet-she comes to visit,
sweet-she sits with me in wicker --
sweet-she leans in close
as not to impede.

I have gardens to tend
and so does she.
We are the gardens
we tend for free.
Hers is a nursery
for gratitude.

Blessings counted sow the seed,
contentedness to water her  
compassion flowers.
Come the bloom: how they grow;
how she grows; how she plucks
its fruit to fill her pantry further,
pantry of a soul.
She feeds me from it
when we wake, and when
we wake I make her breakfast.

In my garden I grow me.
I am the seeds and the shit beneath,
am the fertilizer. I harvest all the me I need
for free.

          She is here on wicker
and I am thinking where to move
my queen in gridded battle,
basking in the sun and battle
and heaven is pals,
when the living queen leans close.

I tend to what I tend to
and she to what she to:
leans in close,
as not to impede.
We must tend our gardens
And know our seeds.