Into the thicket

I saw a king with a wooden horse. What does a king need a wooden horse for? Can’t he trust a regular horse to do what he needs?

Of course I could get a normal horse to do what I need, but have you ever seen a real horse crafted as finely as this?

I had to admit I had never seen a finer horse in life or in media.

The wooden horse, he explained, lacked the common comfort of a soft living horse but when he pursued a fox or a rabbit into the thicket there was no bone blood or fur to tear on the sharp thorns.

But the heat, the connecting of life, the opportunity for both to enjoy the victory. Where is the passion you share?

I am king, if I want passion, I command it There is nothing I lack.

So as I talked a fox darted across the path into the thicket and the king went galloping past. The king tore through the thicket in search of the fox. Even as his kingdom dwindled and crumbled around him.


Tumbling into tepid pools of tyranny
Anxious aberrations awaken another
Cutting the collective consciousness
Into an instant illusion of insecurity
But better breeds bear the burden
Of overzealous ownership
Forced to forget the freedoms
They once favored

Anniversary getaway

This weekend was my work holiday party and since my 4th anniversary is coming up, wifey and I decided to have a Mini getaway. We stayed at a hotel in del Mar, nearly right on the beach. I had to laugh a bit in hindsight. We were excited about sleeping in until 8:30.  Most of my coworkers wouldnt consider that sleeping in. But anyone with kids can understand. After breakfast, we walked to the beach and I'm pretty sure we saw a family preparing some sort of Santeria. They were all dressed in white and I'm pretty sure we saw a bird cage under the white tablecloth. 


The click and pick of the needle
Why don’t you sit over here next to me
I’ll show you how in out make a loop and pull through.
If you change the way you pull or change the loop you can create just about anything.
Grandma says crochet work stops time. She picks up the needles and yarn. She plucks the picture out of the air in front of her and replaces it with our Christmas slippers.
The marker tickles my feet but I like seeing the print the trace makes. Imperfect feet are best warmed in matching imperfect slippers. Maybe I’ll learn how
Once my feet have stopped growing each year and her feet begin shrinking every year, I could make her slippers. Keep her feet warm. Remind her that I’ll be there for her every year as long as
she needs me.


The car fades in the distance devolved into my bicycle I ride from the smooth pavement of the parking lot to a pock marked stretch of road Caltrans seems to have forgotten.
Up the hill, I ascend. Apartments transform into town homes transform into McMansions transforming into empty space. Tired now, follow the center-line.
Don’t give up. Pedals pump like pistons
Pure Power.
Asphalt becomes gravel becomes dirt. Re-energized by nature. Air Sun and Soil recharging my skin.
Now atop the hill I survey my kingdom. Sweat blurs the scene and smooths out jagged edges of urban spires. Sun falls behind me and I descend again. Prepared for what lies ahead.