from the journal of the unemployed one

a storm is raging outside.
we're in and i can't take my eyes off it.
lightning throwing cracks in the sky for a brilliant second.

we just got back soaking wet from our brief jaunt to the river.
stripped down at the door and ran for the warmth of hot showers.
now it's all calm and, in the stillness, only a flash through the rain bejeweled window let's me know the war is still on out there.
i've been drinking milk and reading old blogs while two things are slowly dawning on me.
1.) my writing will be good again when i get fully in to the next truly meaningful phase of my life. ie. get a meaningful job. start volunteering somewhere. get back into politics and my struggle toward activism...
and secondly, that life will pic up again. one way or another it will come. i'll make it happen or it'll fall on me when i'm not expecting... whether it's here, or back in socal or god forbid some unknown elsewhere, but it will happen. this listless, mildly empty due mostly to my own restlessnes, unemployed phase, will in fact pass. it's just a momentary lull. and for right now at least this confidence seeps in and fills me with enough satisfaction to last me into tomorrow, i hope. enough to carry me through another fruitless day of job searching. then again, who knows. maybe, just maybe tomorrow won't feel quite so fruitless.

15 seconds on a perfect day

15 seconds
mountainside sloping away
shades of green to blue sky.
mossy soft
cleft faces of rock.
settling heat hearded away by
sometimes breath of cool sky
setting leaves of poplar
to softly rustling dance.
folding shade resting beneath leaning tree.
new water song flows from mouth of bird
while butterfly's erotic glide
follows pattern of ground.
neon dragonfly lights on grass.
15 seconds pass

are there so few people eaten up by injustice???

i miss our long conversations.
i don't want the empty life that everyone seems to be chasing, including me.
i'm a romantic stuck in a pessimist's body. mind. with my own brand of of-kilter idealistic realism. i know it doesn't work really, but you tell me... "what the fuck does!?" and i know that i'm good to encounter. if you're aching and you really need someone to see you through to you. i'll stand there. and i'll do it, every time, almost. so don't tell me i'm naive when you're using me. when you're letting me help hold you up. not that you recognize it. always. but the you's here have switched several times so the you i started out talking to would never do what the last you does. and that's why i miss you. and the way you throw a real arm around my idealistic side because you love me and you see the good it does. even if we can't, neither of us, quite believe in it. perhaps i belong back there with you. when i was so keen to leave. i've never met anyone like you. or maybe i just really need us to stay in touch...