Modernization

While you’re walking down paths of progress, between redbrick post- Victorian apartments and new construction framing, under berry laden but otherwise bare branches, through the din of robins and chickadees, finches and sparrows, the ancient cacophony spills out from every direction, you know it intrinsicly and realize it won’t be long forgotten even in the face of modernization.

Nighttime Winds

Nighttime winds whip ‘n whorl tree branches, as mist sprays directionless. And in some odd hour of the night limbs are felled without witness. The abundant fragrance of new growth birthed and nurtured at 130’ now sits street side. In the morning, the robin on the high hill bathes in the perfume. He thrashes in and out of the low hanging fog snacking on easily gotten worms picked from the soft earth.

Robin Sumi by Dan Flosi

Like You Always Used To Do


you look up at the moon tonight, like you always used to do. not the same pale arizona moon, though. the douglas fir points with tri-tips, bent like a phoenix, toward it. clouds pass by swirling and melting. the moon shines with a rainbow halo surrounding it, which changes shape and intensity as the clouds pass. some kind of animal screeches in the tree behind you, you think maybe a baby. from a few blocks away, maybe half a mile, you hear a crash, a thud, and it doesn’t occur to you until moments later, while the car horn continues to blare that its an accident. minutes pass; police sirens. the clouds still pass by, the moon still shines, the branches of the doug-fir still shake in the breeze. a couple more minutes; ambulence sirens wail. that’s when it occurs to you that hope is the same feeling as despair.

Like the Tree

Be still

Be still like the tree

Who grows and branches effortlessly

Who knows

The most appropriate answer

To the most immediate question

Be still

Be still like the tree

Who is not divided

Who does not second guess

But continues to reach further

Pointing to the sky

Expanding

While time passes us by

Be still

Be still like the tree

Who bends with the wind

So as not to break

Who continues to give

Even in death

Be still

Be still.

A Call to the Artist Archetypes

When we gonna listen,
And realize we got nothing to say,
When we gonna break up,
‘Cause we got nothing new to
Say.
We’re all just on some mission,
some cheap and self glorifying
mission,
When’re we gonna listen,

(Electronic music interlude…

Still going….

Breaking it down now,

still…………breaking down…………… )

OK. Here we go…

i’ve got another question for ya. Mr. Campbell. Mr. Camp-bell? Where are we to go once They shut it all down?They shut down all the Men’s cl-ubs!

You know, I’d really like to really like to really like to know. You know we live in a time when Pinterest is the new National Archive.

it’s sad you know it’s sad you know it’s sad you know it’s true.

Soon we’re gonna wake up. Soon we’re gonna find, They drew a line between, the information you can afford, and the stuff they save for the East-coast E-lite.

Now it’s time to live time to live it’s time to live

up to the archetypes.

We are the Starving Artist’s, starving though our bellies are full. It’s not the guns They wanna take, no, it’s your mind.

So

When we gonna wake up,

When we gonna listen,
realize we got nothing left to say,
When we gonna break up,
Cause we got nothing new to
say.
We’re all just on some mission,
some cheap and self glorifying
mission,
When’re we gonna listen.


(To the Bloggers)
We are the Artist Archetypes: Liberators of Minds come to free you from the market economy and Peddler’s of pedagogy. Destroyers of the dichotomy, that’s blasphemy, we live forever in our memory, in every cell in our body, that’ll be the death of me.

Because it’s up to us, the artists, the seers, to drive humanity forward with our questions. Our science imitates art, just look at how most science fiction has become science reality in the last decade. Scientists aren’t the most creative bunch, and so it’s up to us to ask the questions that will drive us in the directionless direction, the unnamed, uncategorized, nonbinary. Otherwise we’ll have to settle for this simulated reality.