beyond (12.27.10)

a session with topher (aka jesus arrives on christmas eve) (12.24.10)

dear friends sharing love, song, and poetry with each other, the bubble, and now, you

trav -- in the presence of the jewel



toph -- drift into eternity


and a couple of tunes i've written since i last saw him...

wake, while we're still young


camera failure

awake with my purple darling (12.23.10)

howling in the wake of the solstice eclipse (12.22.10)

cool glass flames (12.18.10)

sweet treat, baked by the cosmos (12.12.10)

as a birthday gift

i have given myself

a stoned, uninterrupted listen

to Miles Davis' Kind of Blue

while gazing out the window

of a moving train

eclipse (12.9.10)

the night turned to dawn

and the sun was eclipsed at noon

in the shadow i found truth, and knew

the light would shine in my mind soon

the sky revealed a secret

a wind at midnight gently blew

and i spun around, and around, and around

until i found myself with you

like a stone inside my slipper

you're so slippery, make me fall

before i sink into nothing again

can i bring you anything at all

lyrics of love and life

sung over a melody pure and true

it's all i have now, all i have now

and i'm giving it to you

Ooh,

i'm never lying to you

every day's promise is a changing tide

behind my eyes for me to ride

into your mind from mine

and idea shines on from behind words you say

i'm trading places with the wind someday

so i can blow a breeze for you, so baby

open up your heart, whenever you're ready

i am too

Ooh,

I'm never lying to you

when no one is watching (12.6.10)

yet another one 'bout me bein the sea (12.7.10)

in the stormy sea of potential
every wave a dream
every dream a burden


no surfboard
no need


if i'd relax, all the way
i'd see my own face, my true face
on the bottom
laughing


been the sea before
struggling now


i'm the sea now
be sea, me, 
be

no lack of voice, despite my sore throat (12.2.10)

I

I knew the angel

but before I could show you,
before I could sing her song,
she split

maybe I was too concerned with hearing my voice,
with you hearing my voice,
my
voice

maybe she left to teach me that it ain’t my song,
that it ain’t my voice,
that her voice is around all the time
whether my throat is healthy or not

II

the song does not call for my voice at the moment

so I’ll be what it needs

I defer to the divine wind.
when it blows through my throat again
you’ll hear my song,
her song through me,
my voice

so says the absence of a train (11.28.10)

I arrived here just minutes after the train had left
station was empty
except for my bones
and the initial desire to write a poem
about the sadness of the empty station
which I was doomed to sit at for two
hours until the next train

this morning, after only having slept for
three hours, I heroically walked five
miles to catch the southbound train
because my bike has a flat

last night I carried a small,
watercolor painting in the
back pocket of my jeans
in hopes of giving it to a girl
that I’m into
I’d painted it earlier in
the night as a birthday gift

Sometimes I seem to paint myself
as a weather-beaten wanderer
downtrodden
other times I’m a joyous, free-spirit

a little bit of hustling here and there
helps me get where I need to go
or rather, get what I want

I paint others as well
but tend to focus mostly on
the development of myself
as a character

my approach is to make poetic decisions
and I’d like to be appreciated
    as a work of art

I find my self importance to be
embarrassing and distracting

I recognize the illusory nature of myself
at the same time that I concern myself
with it’s well-being and appearance

no absence of/or importance (11.22.10)

please understand that i have no requests
im cooking my own meals, yet i feel like im eating for you
hey you
i feel the absence of your skin

camera failure (11.14.10)

travalonia chatroulette tour, fall 2010

when the mice take my turquoise idea (11.13.10)

clumsiness and sweetness in/or ecstacy

travel, land, leave (11.10.10)

(a love child in its tender infancy. born on the shitter.)

one thing i've got to practice

is gettin' out quicker

gettin' out before i get chewed up, so much

the longer i stayed

i grew sicker and sicker

but i never grew quite numb to the touch

travel and land

new view

new place to stand

new place to leave

kissed here by the golden morning

dreams as silhouettes on the floor, always moving

and i'll dance into

the full exposure of the afternoon

then nightfall's deadly beauty

will follow soon

travel and land

new view

new place to stand

new place to leave

we can hold hands

we can let our guts out

decorate a canvass

we can say goodbye, and cry

i'll be back as rain

again and again

i've made my bed

laid my head

on a cloud above the ocean

travel and land

new view

new place to stand

new place to leave

the super funky drunken jumpin' monkey drummer -- siren song (11.9.10)

guts in the visage (happy birthday sam kelly)

Some of the most touching beauty we encounter in our lives appears as the exposed innards of fellow humans who most generously turn themselves inside-out for the world to smell, sting, and join.

Without guts and deep nostril shots rupturing the slideshow of timid attempts at prettiness, we'd all feel way more pressure than we do already to cover up our humanity. 

My friend Sam Kelly is a mighty kind and expressive person who churns up some deep humanity over on her Face Flash! blog (she also had a wonderful blog over the summer called sam kelly, chao! which chronicled her experience as a volunteer tudor in Ecuador). On this day in 1984, her mom Cindy asked her mid-wives to throw on some reggae, then proceeded to give birth to Sam, no doubt, while making faces that would rival some of Sam's best (or worst) work. 

May my own bloggin' and livin' be as gutsy, fun, and kind as Sam's.

Here here!

you are i am my shoulder

rhythm in silence

it's always available

rain jam (11.3.10)

bubble in space space in bubble in bubble space space bubble in in space bubble

Todd: But where is Travis?


In the storage loft!

the hug

I'm entering into a more intimate arrangement with the Bubble. I've created, with her influence, a little nest for myself right in her loving arms. We're going to be cuddling, absorbing, sharing ourselves and bringing beings into our world. A "being" is anything which is being--being a peep, being a space, being an event, being a memory, being a vision, being a song, etc. I intend to share these beings in various ways so that peeps who feel like hanging out with them may.


I'm working on opening the channels. All that's required for a jam is space and instruments. We have that. We are that. 


"Let there be songs to fill the air." - Robert Hunter