Blog of Sal

The first of a few pieces I call 'photo poems': The photos were taken in Big Bend National Park, near the Rio Grande which is the natural border with Mexico. We were in the middle of the road trip of a lifetime from L.A. to Toronto via New Orleans. On a sidenote, it's very cute to hear a 3 year old say, "Alabama". Here's my wife and son in the Rio Grande. The river flows on both sides of the island to their right and it's not clear whether they're in Mexico or The States. Sam and Amy in the Rio Grande The quiet in "Far West" Texas (the moniker given to that section of West Texas that's I suppose just a bit more "West") was unlike anything I'd experienced before, despite several forays through rural places like Saskatchewan, Montana, and the desolate parts of Nevada. The vastness of the landscape takes you right out of your head, to consider things larger in scope, the history of people on this con...

Quick announcement that a new edition of my book of poetry is now available as an ebook . Read more about it on the Poetry page. Cheers.

Tiger Town {poem} I showed up in Tiger Town Wearing a coat and shoes of brown I was still a saddened soldier, A wanderer, and a clown I made fast friends with artists and liars Troubadours, punks, and stone carvers In this gritty city Where the escarpment towers As the gardens on the bayfront harbour flower As the moon ensorcels with its arcane power At a gallery off the beaten path Where thinkers meet, to hone their craft I remembered the dream that we all had To color the world In psychedelic plaid To purge this culture Of meaningless fads To sharpen the purpose of the talent we all have

When dreams die We crawl into a cave Wilt in darkness awhile Wander again What comes then? When dreams die We step into a void Welcome any energies Wince at the memory of failure Weap with the knowledge that all things Will, never, be, the same When dreams die What comes then?

I stare long into the night Into the cold void Tilting my gaze I'm blinded by the sun But in its heat I feel truth The message is effortless: Continue my light

I could write a million pages of my most profound speculation She says one word, And she is right The weight of a man's existence is measured in his intentions She whispers one careful thought, And she is forever mine A complete effort, my longing for purpose and to change the world She smiles but once, And owns my work To see her sorrowful, to see her need Is a call to action, and a cosmic seed To see her happy, to feel that light Is reward enough to continue this fight To struggle through the labours of life In an effort to deserve what is already mine The hand of a girl who knows what is right @)-->----

I  wrote this poem after being inspired by Michael Reynolds & how  developed his lifelong dream of EARTHSHIP BIOTECTURE . Our hero, is a green man doing God’s work with his green plan to build a new kind of world where us humans live right in dwellings that swirl, through a sustaining light Biotecture is the word that’s his mission and his creed with this vision he has planted a very crucial seed and as these new plants grow strong Mother Nature will cease to bleed The world must know his name Micheal Reynolds from New Mexico he’s dreamed a dream of green and now the rest of us must go moving through this life with our heads in the clouds striving for sustainability for the billions in the crowd preparing for tomorrow with our hands in the dirt and marching into the future with our hearts on the Earth/

They came from every corner of the world To be a western man From every walk of life they hailed To figure in to this new plan A merging of two worlds To bitter and wealthy ends A western man did come to be A hero and a friend At first they came from Europe To settle a new land To mix and match with Indians To delegate, rule and plan A future of democracy Innovation and adventure In this age the west was to the world Below, and still indentured Later came the modern age Of trains and planes and autos America, a prodigal son Had matured into its motto To be the greatest land on earth Through hard work and bravado And a swath of culture from this place Accross the world did echo The Eastern seaboard was now changed Through years of industrialization The midwest was it's factory Incesant with production Throughout this new east The dream had changed forever Slanted towards industry And away from adventure But tucked away Accross the new world In p...

Consciousness Beckons A poem about seeking lucidity within a dream: Consciousness Beckons (2006) T here's this dream out there hard for me to think of it as mine although I am in it somewhere near the end jumping up and down wearing a bathrobe, on a hotel bed and I show up in the middle too a caricature of myself at seventeen hopeful and determined, broad-shouldered wearing a clean white collard shirt There is a woman holding a fish, it may be a large salmon she explains to a group of interested citizens why it is important that we treat our environment with respect citing examples of misuse that relate back to the fish and as this woman's 15 minutes fade away I realize that this dream is on film These events all contained on a seven minute reel and I am watching it now in a small independent theatre called The Princess If you join me you will hear them too inviting voices from the hall there is no point in paying full admission now a superabundance of experie...

In A Wood IN A WOOD - wrote this poem last year in a car on a road trip across the U.S. on old route 66.

The Unborn I wrote this poem last year in a car on a road trip across the U.S. on old route 66.

It is so clear to us this world and our role within it and when our neighbours come to us, so fearless and raw like tigers we stay silent and awkward, and weep on the inside What we seem to be seeing an arcane elegance in the complexity of this universe as it is constantly unveiled constantly, now? Now the pressures are extreme they can't heed our warnings blank stares in a room full of academics the codes are archaic axioms of the draconian past hiding in every whisper yet the elegant the perfect balance it never ends it always is In my deepest moments of panic, torment and sorrow I know the flawless world I am a part of

Moonrise, Hernandez A calming breeze before the wicked sun Our cakewalk across old 66 has become quite the marathon On a sideroad, at the Gates of the Valley where the joshuas fade, and the jeffreys seem to smile... taken again by my memory of Laguna my brush with death, when in the tide I lost my breath We ride through Hesperia and on to the beach at Solana as daylight fades, the music creeps up on us... mysterious and delicate like the final moment in a dream

Where has our integrity gone? Or does some ruse compel me to perceive That we were once noble, just and true That the forests were all green And the oceans, all blue Corruption can't be this easy Those men can't be as sleazy As they come across on T.V. Mavens in the art of bending over backwards Reaching for dollars As their morals cascade And their memories fade I raise my flag in silence, in solitude Under the tempestuous evening sky Dreams and memories circling in my mind Thunder clapping, again and again Every time we make the mistake Of caving in, to moral decay

through the shadowmask light comes in fragments the wasted ambitions of a generation confused by the fuzzy warmth of a foreign dream a distant screen what is real and what is dream our day to day fictions the guidelines of our dealings our day to day feelings the joys we feel a script surreal a serial the temptation to run steal away into the wild delve into the real rush of our distant fathers the young men of this day let out a quiet scream we share a dying dream burried under the tonnage of a foreign dream on a distant screen

Into memories of my fragile yolk ten thousand days have slipped through the sieve of the incredible partaking of the pleasure of making a difference here on earth In a realm where even gods are envious of the intense, tactile stimulation, the feelings of longing and of love the most visceral tortures of loss and the pride we share in our kin, and for our country, and for humanity I wish we could take each day and cherish it so, examine its form, every small dent or bend in its shell but life is a twisting of the conscious mind forever, we camouflage our energies and seek out new beliefs the future so intriguing so many possible experiences we could combine our forces and tear into the great spaces that shade the universe from us but it is in our living memories that the passion to take even one step is born

I sacrificed everything in my life was it worth it to hold her close and believe for an instant in all those tall tales of eternal passion I still see her there that iconic goddess the perfect woman who entranced me in my earliest memories of desire when things get hard I hear a train chugging in the distance its final destination is unknown but i hear it rolls through london, moscow, montreal and a score of cold places, places I'd rather be when that nostalgia kicks in, when the look on her face is two hundred years of wonderment and I need the distant past, the distant future and to be rid of avarice and selfishness in the hearth of my day-to-day mind and in my home I end up feeling ghosts crawling up and down my skin rising up through the floor and across from the trees my body always gets a little colder when my ancestors lay it on me -it doesn't have to be this way from beyond the grave they speak in symbols in my DNA, in the language of thought of my sub-conscious brain t...

with amy around I see the dent in modern ways I see the bend in all my tastes the errors in the days with her around I panic loud, I talk so much I get it out this is healing but is it sound? when, will you come all the way to my , town when, will we meet in the breeze of my, town with amy around I step lighter on the ground I go more frequently downtown I live unbound fears are not the same