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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Nov 30, 2018 - 06:02am PT
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Ng, that gnarly gnat from VietGnam,
gnawed gnocchi as Gnome burned on.
--Silent Lee
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Bushman
climber
The state of quantum flux
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Time the Gift or Curse
When I was young
and carelessly bold
I rarely reflected
on the pain and cold
But as years went by
I mused somewhat
with a beer in hand
and stew in the pot
How the injuries felt
they took longer to heal
I’d contemplate this
while I ate my meal
Thought there’d be more days
‘for the next conquest
achieved but a tenth
what I’d planned at best
The days grew short
as well my spine
So I read more books
while remaining supine
‘Till one day I
could barely get up
to tie my shoe
or to eat my sup
So now I am lucky
though no longer a pup
and delegate labor
when my body gives up
I count the hours
the minutes the days
they’re all I’ve got left
in so many ways
As life goes by
as well goes our youth
our friends and our pets
we get long in the tooth
As the years do pass
‘twould be well to do
accept there’ll be loss
with your victories too
-bushman
12/02/2018
Holiday McMiss-Steer
John said it was forty
degrees in St Louie
Back home the missus
builds wreaths by the fire
...and hope
I hadn’t the hearth to
remark on their flammability
but then I did
Smooth move ex lax
...dope!
-bushman
12/04/2018
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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And When I Say Poem
BY REBECCA WOLFF
I mean this thing
I want to write and no other
You will not be so clever
as to resurrect the feathered
the tatty wings of a costumed
angel in my dining room
tatty spatial realm
room where I exist and look at things and eat them
and float nine inches above the floor
and no one else need know
and no other poet
will do
The poet will do
what the poet will do and mime
or maim the poet
meme—in fancy
venue or classroom or focus
group the wings of the poet
relax and warm and shed and oracular
shit out the window in a pile by the side of the road
and the commitment of the poet
to engage, subvert, refract, or remand
is safe in my vagina at last where it belongs.
https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/90201/and-when-i-say-poem
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Bushman
climber
The state of quantum flux
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the road up there
give or take a hundred klicks past
several stop lights
more or less
some friendly miles of mountain driving
old sugarloaf then
phantom spires
on forest snows sleeps the marauder
tonight off broadway
lovers leap
where we once strode we stand alone
some say forever
no one knows
the shadows know for whom to mourn
their cold indifferent
loving care
-bushman
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Gnome Ofthe Diabase
climber
Out Of Bed
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(then I wanted to just copy paste the title)
(the bug is limited to the Taco! damn......)
I'm suffering some 'puter issue,
did not accept some up-grade or another.
The resulting slow to failing to upload -
Or reload or return to the page
after an edit to make a spelling correction....
So much so that I copy/paste whole posts to save them
Incase they leave & disappear into some dark hole.
-That means as I have done here I just save the planned up-loads then add .
-them to the post once
-the, ,words The text is semi...
Semi......finished
Semi... . deliberate
Semi. . . . expanded
Semi. .Truck*
Semi. . . . Bomber
Semi. . . . . . on
Semi. . . . . . . off
Semi. . . . . . . . slack
Semi. . . . . . . . . take
Semi. . . . . . . . . . belay
falling!
if that explains anything? it was not meant to clear up anything
just an attempt to qualify this weirdness
and what has led to the spam-like nature of this and other posts.
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Gnome Ofthe Diabase
climber
Out Of Bed
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The Top of the Junk Heap of History
- and their brothers, sons, daughters mothers,
fathers, guilty cousins, all those yet to come
Who will un-ceremoniously end up mummified
under the heap
This A test
UN-ONLY A TEST
From deep to shallow
Whats best is best
This Rollercoaster
This whipsnake
this closed out barrel
riding the crest
riding just under
the breaking wave
What is Life
Glory be to who
What
A funeral train
-A gift that once, now no more
-A grief, A pallor palpable to some
But lost on most.
All in to find that it was a worst possible out come
error
this is a test
only a test
best left to let those who mourn do so
To wait for the pages of excuses & bold proclamations
to un-fold
Regardless of the tragic truth
A truth that a look at the history
Of the sad repeated behavior
truly holds
to get it out, let it out, to pass the past off
to the bloody junk heap of history
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Dec 16, 2018 - 04:43am PT
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You're all asleep, you lucky peeps.
4 a.m. Blues
I'm standing on my porch again
But there's no rain to ease my pain
Just the sad and mournful refrain
Of a slowly moving Santa Fe train
A sleepless night with a restless mind
I've come out here looking to find
Some peace for myself of a Christmas kind
But it's in my heart, so I must be blind
--Wink N. Blinken
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Bushman
climber
The state of quantum flux
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Dec 20, 2018 - 06:50pm PT
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Compliance with those Things Too Real
(on the loss of our boy)
Sometimes things don’t go our way
Sometimes things just go this way
When no one talks throughout the day
Or maybe there’s nothing to say
The sadness sinks won’t go away
The heart grows harder day by day
The pain rises it’s here to stay
How long how long will it be this way
It’s not ok
It’s just that way
I’m sorry that I feel this way
The loss remains each every day
I’m sorry there’s not more to say
Sometimes things just go this way
I’m still waiting for the pain to subside
-bushman
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Bushman
climber
The state of quantum flux
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Dec 24, 2018 - 06:31am PT
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The Longest Holiday
(our son Manuel would’ve turned 42 yrs old this Christmas Eve)
life changing dramatic upheavals
happen more often these days
the heart is much colder
yet now that I’m older
I’m much more forgiving today
irreconcilable indifference remains
on how I once treated my brain
harmful addictions
I once saw as fictions
I’ve long since now cast them away
for such incomprehensible things
what demoralization it brings
though I’ve wished it on none
it’s afflicted my son
and now he returns to the clay
the holidays are the hardest this year
the pain in our hearts sharp and clear
Christmas music will find
someone’s missing in kind
I might listen but he’s no longer here
last night the grief wouldn’t end
silent night brought back memories again
primed by La bohème
the tears would not stem
for this holiday we’re all missing him
life changing dramatic upheavals
in a world of complete disarray
life is much colder
yet now that I’m older
I’m forgiving myself every day
-tim sorenson
12/23/2018
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Bushman
climber
The state of quantum flux
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Dec 26, 2018 - 05:39pm PT
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My Name is Lazymandius
There’s no way to know the difference
between dehumanizing ignorance
and the phony father figures
hidden among the hedgerows
of a thousand secret mazes
The mind is blind to what we’ll find
your shouted words now empty boxes
He’s not been here for ages
Ache the heart
and finally
the eye drop drips
Little birds who once told me
now silent
Ghost white sands and crisp ice havens
ground to dust up in the heavens
this I’ve told you not for naught
sure as my name is middle Scot
Three times he said
Three times bite the ear
for emphasis he’s Sisyphus
and he won’t hear for
he’s not dropped that ball in years
Lazarus knew and so did Homer
Would that they would
or so they would
There’s no way to judge the cost
for what we’ve lost
between indifference and independence
our collective cold blooded myopia
in voluntarily downloaded bits
So said Lazymandius
-bushman
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Dec 26, 2018 - 07:26pm PT
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move forward sideways
traversing & traversing
middle cathedral
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Dec 26, 2018 - 08:35pm PT
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new year approaching
it is a large white page now
so is tomorrow
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Fossil climber
Trad climber
Atlin, B. C.
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Denali Tundra
Hike over the alpine tundra.
Walk, if you can, without bending over,
Walk without tasting the berries.
I can not.
Fingers are always blue now.
It is September.
Frost has found the blueberries
Mushy soft like sweet wine.
Last week they were blue-white,
Popped like cold grapes between the teeth.
Lingonberries in tight shiny leaves
Lie close in grey-green reindeer moss,
Young ones sparkle scarlet,
Old ones absorb all light
Like bits of midnight.
Bearberry too, scarlet as their raiment,
Crowberries thick on frizzy stalks
Black as their name.
Pick a mixed handful.
Taste the history of the summer.
Taste the sharp wind from Denali,
The sweet energy of the sun,
The permafrost beneath,
The essence of the tundra.
How many millennia
Have men picked these berries?
How much longer will we pick them?
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Bushman
climber
The state of quantum flux
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Jan 10, 2019 - 08:44pm PT
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all a ‘glisten
where the cacti do wander
are them skies torn asunder
by midwestern twisters
and their big twisted sisters
aye them hurricanes
that roll up from
out of the gulf
you’ll hear voices of warning
chupacabras a ‘scorning
with their eyes all a ‘glisten
if you dare then to listen
you’ll be clacking
yer skeletons
to the sound of the wolf
as the guitar chord strums
if you’re down on your bums
neglecting surroundings
unmindful the soundings
from bottomless quicksands
those clawing leviathans
your horse they’ll engulf
at those poolside soirées
with daiquiri purées
as the eagle flies o’er
you’ll be haunted by more
meteorological phenomena
and strangely illogical
happenstance stuff
you’ll hear voices of warning
chupacabras a ‘scorning
with their knives all a ‘glisten
if you dare not to listen
they’ll be cracking
yer skulls to
the sound of the wolf
-bushman
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Bushman
climber
The state of quantum flux
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Jan 11, 2019 - 10:10am PT
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Acerbumdulce Profectionem
So beautiful you are
sweet life
But afterwards...
no bittersweet soliloquies
will bring us pleasure
Chances are
we shall not see
celestial orbs
suspended by
the fractured line
Or
in a flash
all timelines instantaneous
Or love
at love’s behest
it would not hold us fast
And if all human experience
were expounded exponentially
by earthly knowledge...
beyond our deaths
we would not know
When we depart
like-minded shall we be
in all our silence...
there is that
But only in
this moment
do we know...
so beautiful
you are
sweet life
-Tim Sorenson
01/11/2019
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Fossil climber
Trad climber
Atlin, B. C.
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Jan 11, 2019 - 07:46pm PT
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Tim -
Have you ever submitted any of your work to poetry publications?
You should.
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Bushman
climber
The state of quantum flux
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Jan 14, 2019 - 05:54pm PT
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No Wayne, I have not...I probably should. No excuse except I was planning to start submitting to publications after I retire in several years. At present I wouldn’t know where to begin...I’ve written several hundred poems or more in the past five years.
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Jan 14, 2019 - 05:58pm PT
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bewitching and becoming
his rhyming goes a-humming
along his sing-song lines of verse
his rhythm is a curse,
but it could be worse
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Gnome Ofthe Diabase
climber
Out Of Bed
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Jan 14, 2019 - 09:09pm PT
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POST NUMBER NINE ONE ONE
You? well, you & I have been here before,
Would you like to come to Ridgefield?
will Will be welcome?
Well? will we see Will two too?
will Will one want to? Will Will one want to what? Will two won one too Will Will one win one too?
Will Will one want Will two to what?
Will Will one want Will two to want to?
Well Will two want Will one to win one too
PLEASE DO NOT APPROACH FROM THE POSTED BEACH
right now I can't seem to find my own pictures,
So will Will's video do? Do-well Will will do
Will's will get some well-deserved views will
It not...numbers always will out
114380997steep enough?
114380438steep enough!
114429895&114430093 ?
& at a different place,
10 minutes south, 99% 5* 5.11z
("V" whatever if you will if you want with sit starts)
116153069&114294280
Well not all highball
114406378& 114294280
but why risk access?
116358115
529712
escape yourself from trance
r
twice the ferocity none of da`soft.
a kind & yet still no place to be lost
fast west slow east going to be a day of the beast
The Dead transit company moving u from home to home
third times never a charm but mostly the last, nothing left on the bone
Burr of the cold wind rising, ice and snow is coming and coming on fast
Coz costs are rising, dust in the billfold won't satisfy the jailer
tux`d atween midnight and the birth of our savior
Twixt-ta a scene of mayhem and bloody disaster
lies a kind space where love is the cover charge
no entry fee, you have to pay to getr out of the place
wasted when you get in, like Nam, its all about the routes `n toots
Struggles strengths moodz bastions of acceptance excepting lies
that was it, what`id takes to win show or just to place
a sailor knows the total disgrace when the mast fails
The boom, next, when the crack of the whip comes down
I'm gonna go have a very dark beir or ten,
don't try to tell me when, just keep pouring
I've got 7 where are the other three gonna be to come from?
we keep hearing the same refrain, over and over and over again
And don't not never call me insane
that's why I do it, to get to the same place
the same result, as small a change as age allows
to look for any change would be crazy er no doubt
the rule of the constant; nothing stays the same but change
huffer wit was sour, bit it after fifty thousand told you sows
No way to fix blown out toes feed the head with those
he woulda told ya if he werner goin' deaf now
all-out bled out deleted dead
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