Ranch Poem- “The Soloist”


The Soloist

Teary-eyed on jail pay phone
trying to be strong
to be positive
in the distorted face of
A year of searching
the existential cracks of
one’s saddened heart
for belief in a life
that exists in memory
and in hopeful plans
Pains untreated
Smiles depleted
Family, friends, love
Despite the suffering
these are noble desires
that tear asunder
the soloist
standing alone among strangers
swirling lost and chained
tearing layers from lips
with sore teeth
wondering to no avail
about “them”
and what they really think
about me
Are they already afraid?
How will they know me?
Am I changed?
Taken down a peg
Joining the disadvantaged
Waving goodbye to old habits,
evil deeds, and invincibility
But what about what made me happy?
Will I have to wait much longer
to know them once again?
Wireless outernet disconnection
Dubstep in commercials taunting
convict conversation reruns
This isn’t quite me sometimes
with the constricted choices
trying to pick the middle way
fighting unsatisfactoryness
Jail sangha somehow tough
Is this the base camp for the summit?
Springing forward tenderly
December’s twenty-first
Who, what, when, where, why, how
will I be?



Ranch Poem – “The Heartwood”


“The Heartwood”

The damp leaves of autumn cling to our soles
some are torn apart, trying to keep hold
I see this distance between
our deepest desires are these diametric wholes

Memories crash like waves on me incessantly
I’m trying to revive their matrices
I’ve seen my past clearer than ever
friends passed on and I’m dreaming about eternity

Seven billion worlds, wondering what to choose
Fate is but a fruit tree, hollow and used
I don’t know any end for suffering
I’m bruised, unseen by others and unfelt by you

Feel like you’re missing something that’s right there
Your night falls your mind stalls eclipsed by fear
We are sensitive satellites
Composing twin universes more dark than clear

These blue veins branch our like hidden rivers
thawing beneath a life reconsidered
My focal length is forever forward
No pinwheel of death diagnosis will wither

Shortest way between us is a curved tree
It’s our successful search for symmetry
Just touch that dimension inside
Meet me in The Heartwood, have faith in awakening



Ranch Poem – “The Fourth Day”


The Fourth Day

In one day a man could lose a fight.
In one day a man could die.
In one day a man could make love to a woman.
In one day a man could pick up his sword.
In one day a man could grow up.

In two days a man could pick a fight.
In two days a man could be so empty, dying wouldn’t help.
In two days a man could make love to another.
In two days a man could pick up his pen.
In two days a man could grow old.

In three days a man could hold his own.
In three days a man could alleviate his pain.
In three days a man could never love another woman.
In three days a man could follow his heart.
In three days a man could grow wise.



Ranch Poem – “Fall and Rise”


Fall and Rise

Walking freely on the streets
Seems oddly precious for the first time.
Typing with cold and bare hands
I think of these lives then think of mine.

How fortunate I have been through it all.
But I could use some Spring time, since ill be gone.
The pavement and snow piles sparkle.
But I push the budding trees to hurry.

A crowded world, crowded jails, crowded ideas.
But there is still so much distance between us.
Some prefer to rise while others fall.
I wish there was a place for us all.

Some never stand up.
Others are one and done.
We will fall and rise
until we remain in heaven.

The powerful keep stealing under
The guise of saviors and governors.
But these social networks expand faster than any empire or caucus.
Love and creativity treated as a joke.
What is wealth when a world is broke?

Some never stand up.
Others are one and done.
We will fall and rise
until we remain in heaven.

As the eye blinks the mind travels miles
And yet so many remain stuck still.
They shake down our schools and unions, as they always have.
But the student and worker can no longer pay elitist debts.
Type, write and act more, think less.



Ranch Poem – “I will break this shadow”


“I will break this shadow”

I will break this shadow
into a thousand lights of sun.
No challenge,
no matter the length or intensity,
retains the propensity to douse
the Bonfire that is my will.
Relentless and Honest
is my will to rise!
Rise up, rise against
rise above!

You can go tell them,
I won’t be silent or flat,
won’t be bitter broken.
I’ve already spoken
countless times while
muzzled, exiled,
and I’m liable to be heard.

Misleading darkness,
I see it for what it is,
zippo and oiled cloth
match and paper
lightning and brush.

I am illume inside
my spirit may
my supernovae self
on a loop
creating against despair!
Making room for

There are bright days ahead
Days that I will know
Days that I will take
and make marvelous
as pretty gems shining
as the lion’s mane reflecting
the sun.
We still have time
it’s done.




Ranch Poem – “The Lionhearted”


The Lionhearted

I’m left. Always beaten but constantly winning,
The aches of other souls burn my muscles
And I’ll take it wholeheartedly. North, South
East, and West. I leave myself behind anywhere
I go, a monument of weak might.

I destroy “do not enter” signs.
I bring the subjective truth.
I make the zebra change his stripes.
I make the zebra change back.
I pulsate concern into silent rhythms.
I mimic righteous ones.
I mirror the hypocrite.
I sweep your strikes under the rug.
I furnish my defeat by becoming mute.
My smile weighs negative.
Your smile is the balance point.
I got the green, living blues.
I leave it up to you.
I haven’t shed a tear against me.
I got the right down, but am wrong.

So I reached and found.
So I’ve got it now.
So what, if there’s conflict.
So we have to spill our contents.
So leave the fridge open.
So go back to what was left years behind.
So eliminate quiet frowns.
So we add the L to the OVE.
So I’m not lonely together.
So a snowmelt’s snow isn’t forgotten.
So we sing the fuck out.
So to hell with falsehood.
So this helping hand grasps.
So your flats and sharps both are tuned.
So the ol’ favorites get played.
So this electricity stored, shocks.

I’m left. Ready now, Red Bull and kush
Willing. I won’t wear socks to bed tonight,
I could collapse from this revelation dose.
My head will no longer hang low, though
I must keep it up. The Lionhearted would
Not stay mum. Must have been the fear.