Click here to go to my photography site where you can purchase prints.

30 + Days/30 Poems

I have lost a piece of me and though I love Lost Roads, I never intended to lose anything essential. Thus, 30+ Days/30 Poems is an attempt to find a few of the missing pieces that lay tattered in the nooks and crannies I've neglected. From February 19 to Whenever (I am working though to make "whenever" not never). I will try to write one unedited poem per day (try is the key word here). It will be written on this blog without any rough draft, notes, or outline. They will be short and to the point. They will be unknown to me until they are finished.

My Weather

Weather Forecast | Weather Maps | Weather Radar

All is fine...Forrest rests here on the couch. Eva sleeps late. We are off to a walk this morning. Slovenia in a few weeks where Eva will work. Next week sale of photos and jewelery. New recipes in the making and some in the refrigerator. Never stop learning. Never stop growing.

Lyrics

Kenny White is a wonderful, wonderful songwriter that I stumbled upon. He truly is amazing and I am including lyrics to one of his songs here: (also go to his site and listen to his ballads at: http://www.kennywhite.net/player/player.htm)

5 Girls
kw…piano Five girls leaning on the bar tonight Five tattoos at the small of their back Since when has our skin become a canvas I want to ask the one with the cellophane back pack Yeah and I think that I might tell her that she’s looking like a billboard With that shirt that is cute, but oh, so inappropriate for the season Instead I drag my hand across the bar and grab my keys and walk away But you can’t be crucified for the things that you don’t say There’s something going down on 7th Avenue Some dude handcuffed and down on his knees These boys couldn’t be less interested A bunch of Kojak wannabes Yeah, well you could shave your head and suck a lollipop and still end up a traffic cop Trying hard tonight to choose between the Chocolate Glaze and Boston Cream But you can’t be crucified for the things that you don’t dream He’s lost in austerity in his forty-story tower Rolling in prosperity and grateful for his power He’s no maverick but sleeps just fine And he once told me if he said no ten times He’d be right at least nine I said, Hey If Edison had said no If Jonas Salk had said no If Debussy had said no If Jesus Christ had said no If Willie Mays had said no If Shakespeare had said no If Sigmund Freud had said no I’ll tell you where we’d be We’d be sick and in the darkness With no one to inspire us And nothing on TV And even less in the fridge We’d be blaming dad for everything And not even have our Sundays off to barbeque But you can’t be crucified for the things you don’t do So you might as well put it on the line once in awhile Maybe leave something more than ashes in a pile You got a brain, You got style So you might as well put it on the line once in awhile Yeah well, I forgot my glasses So it’s back to that bar I go Another chance to tell that girl She shouldn’t let a stranger stick a pen into her ass But no, instead of being helpful I realize what I really want to do Is see the whole tattoo Trace it with my lips Erase it with my tongue Finger paint the remaining Chinese alphabet With the hot fudge I saved from Boule Bakery that took a month to get a reservation Plus I didn’t know I had to slip Pierre a fifty not to be put next to the bathrooms with the pictures of the little hen and rooster on the door Now I found my glasses And instead of fessing up I catch her eye and give a half way smile and mumble something about an early day But you can’t be crucified for the things that you don’t say

Oh what a day. Oh what a hike. First day of summer 2009 in the French Alps.

Barn in Vermont. No, of course there is not a ounce of manipulation here. No combined images in HDR, no tweaking in PS. Oh, been selling swampland...

I think that the economic crisis is ever so confusing. Check out the prices of the King David Hotel in J-Town. "Cheap" rooms are close to $700. Are they crazy? Who do they cater too and what can be so great to make it worth such a fee? Hey, I love the ambiance there and the food, but come on guys.

Geeze, some days I feel like I really don't have anything to say. Here I am listening to Judy Collins on Wolfgang's vault which is ever such a cool site. Love their concerts and the variety is just so outstanding. Though live concerts do lack some quality, they have other components that studio music is so often missing.

Got a letter from our board of education the other day. We are operating this year and next at 6% less. We were told that we would freeze our expenditures. We were promised, last spring, feedback on our concerns and until yesterday had not received this! Basically we were misdirected in this letter and led to believe that our severance and not the school's mismanagement were to blame. However, we had a carrot dangled in front of us like crack in front of a corner junkie and told that when certain benchmarks are met we could then discuss proper compensation for us. In the meantime, we need to do our job and keep a stiff upper lip (okay some of this was not said). In two-weeks I once again have three nights of chaperoning (I'd like to call it baby sitting but I do respect most of the students), and need to make sure that these 11th graders follow the school rules. Basically, I need to be a cop. I hate, hate, hate being put in this position. Most of the time kids have been mellow, but there are times when they really do push the limits. It gets old. I am getting old. I am getting tired of all nighters needed in order to keep them in their rooms and out of trouble.

Well, I guess I did have a bit to say. Need to finish the 30 poems though. Can't write at that level tonight. Bye...

Bike Rides and Odious People

Somewhere in the muddle to the right is this morning's workout. Bit over two hours. Started off at 73 degrees and ended up at 90. Lap times were really good and longer course went (five laps each of about 2.5 miles) from 9:21 down to 8:32). Shorter course, the one with the nasty hill, had a few under 8 minutes which is always a challenge. 8:46 down to 7:46. I did a ride, with a fellow teacher on Friday in a great area about an hour north of Netayna. Did about 12 miles, kind of slow, but enjoyed the sounds of a wedding (?) in a town in that region being held outdoors. Found some nice climbs and a wonderful valley filled with agriculture. How sad that the river that goes through it is so polluted and the plastic thrown in the picnic areas is so prevalent.

Oh...got flamed (is that the right term?) on Facebook. The woman misinterpreted what I had written and then went on to say some pretty horrible things. Being me, I responded as forcibly as my little brain would allow. Alas, I was messing with a Ivy League Lawyer who had an answer for everything and justfied her inappropraiteness. Thus, seared and battered I retreated. However...she can't see this posting so as they said in that wonderful Monty Python movie, "I fart in your general direction." And I do!

J

Yom Kippur

So, another Yom Kippur is here. It is, in some ways, the day of bike riding for all the people who never really get a chance to ride. The reality here is that the roads are far, far too dangerous to ply by those who never ride on a regular basis. There is no on the job training that prepares one for the boneheads who insist on cutting you off or fail to register that red really does mean stop and that the physics of an automobile, being what it is, has a definite advantage over a bike with a human on it.

So, the roads are filled tonight. Kids on bikes, people walking, the sound of them rises to a crescendo by about 10 or 11 o'clock tonight. It picks up again around 10 in the morning tomorrow.

Though I usually fast, I did consider doing this as a juice fast. However, after making us a large juice this morning, I ended up doing far too many things and never got around to buying some of the other ingredients that I need (cucumbers). From what I am learning, fasting releases a ton of toxins into your system. Now, the experts on this feel that juicing using greens, helps to wash these out during one's fast. Having done this several times at HHI, I tend to agree. The fasts I do now also back this up.

On a final note, did a pretty pure reverse lap time on my ride today:
9:19
9:14
9:14
8:57
8:36

Pretty fast (different type of fast) times considering the wind today.

And one more final note... To R and T, you really are not nice people. I write this in cyber space and not to your face as I don't want to cause any trouble. However, I really want this in type somewhere for it has to be said, you are both lacking in moral fiber. I hope you get into synagogue and do a little soul searching. You are both very far from pure and yes, your shit does stink. In fact, I can smell it from here in Israel.

May Insignificance Highlight This Year

Well...my greatest message this year is the hope that the truly significant health issues in your lives will be insignificant. That those worries, you know the ones that wake-you up from your sleep and leave you staring at the ceiling for hours. Well, I hope those worries are insignificant too. May your fights with friends, family, and loved ones be...well you've guessed it-insignificant. In fact may FOX, CNN, BBC, Al Jazerra and all the other networks that beam into my t.v. here in Israel, make a concerted effort to have truly, truly insignificant news to report and instead focus on some of the significant beauty in this world, or really schmaltzy stories with happy endings. May insignificance reign. Shana Tova...Jamie

Sneakers and Body Bags

When we drove past you this morning
All we saw were the body bags
Filled now with your remains
Laying black upon the road

We saw your sneakers
Strewn haphazardly
Collected in haste
To give back to your family

Body bags and sneakers
On the highway at rush hour
The two of you killed
On your motorcycles

Where were you going?
What had you planned for today?
The news report we heard
On our cell phone while waiting in line-
Gave no details
No clue
Of who you were
Or anything to shed a light
On this resting place you had found

Even now I can't find information
And this troubles me
For I want to know something
About your loss
-And that of your families-
To perhaps understand
What is always so elusive

But it will change nothing
For as the police waved me by
As I merged to the right
As your bodies filled the left lane
The road opened up
And we accelerated away
Until the only thing I saw in
My rear view mirror
Were other cars
Already forgetting
Your two young bodies
And the stories that you held.

Happy Birthday Dad

Dad you died in 1984 but I never forget your birthday. You'd be old now had you survived, but I am sure you'd be one of those wise old men who have so many important things still to say. I dedicate today's bike ride to you. Happy birthday like you made all of mine so happy. The cakes you sent to me at Arizona State with Pumpkins paw prints on them (geeze that always made me laugh) were always eaten so quickly by those on my dorms. You always made a big deal out of b-days and one day, we really need to splice those old movies so that we can view them again. Okay...time to go. J

Time

I can’t even imagine you staring down time with a loaded gun
For your have played with sand dials your entire life
And calculated your days by the position of the sun and the moon
Living your life deep in that cave of a home with its dirty windows
Shaded by one lonely oak tree that finally fell last summer
During a thunderstorm that threw hail the size of ping pong balls
Onto your roof.

You even tried to take everything that we had to offer and then asked for more
Unfazed by your avarice and how it appeared when the evening news
Came and did that interview with you for being so “quirky” as they put it
Those stone flamingos on your lawn and stack of gumballs you had piled a story high
Were front page

So we are pulling the plug and moving on to Arizona or Hawaii
Don’t look us up for we are changing numbers and maybe our names
You are on your own in that grotto of yours
And we are now wishing luck
But I am leaving you a watch.

Leaving Ithaca


Just leaving Ithaca
With gorges of slate
And waterfalls of summer
Fed by torrential rains
Scattered through the hillsides
Buried deep in the land

Just leaving Ithaca
Riding on a bike
Pulling out a hand drawn map
Which I read as I ride
Riding a steel framed bike
Slowly up the impossibly steep hills
And laughing on the roller coaster
Rides down

Just leaving Ithaca
In the early morning rain
Hanging my camera over Taughanook
And thinking that 215 feet of free falling water
Is just a number
Just a superlative
For sublime beauty, on a day of rain and mist
Is without number

Just leaving Ithaca
Heading south on Route 81
Hearing the cries at Gettysburg
Passing strip malls
And strip mines
Hills with coal seeping black
Anthracite pits and tourist towns

Just leaving Ithaca
And an Eco Village
With old friends
Gardens of flowers
Berries getting summer ripe
Vegetables on raised beds
Smothered in compost
Bumper stickers on cars
That remind me of
Raised beds of morality-
Smothered perhaps even more in compost

Just leaving Ithaca
And a long summer on the road
So distant from the last one
Yet always on my mind
Always lurking somewhere
Just to the Middle East
Thankful for another summer
Another day
Beating rain on our tent
Waves breaking on Lake Ontario
Rivera sunsets
Leaving Ithaca

Leftovers

We are putting on the miles
Flying over Alps
Across oceans
Lofting over air pockets
Going white knuckled here and there
Staying in-doors when the temps
Get too hot
Wandering down alleys of ancient cities
Listening to thunder storms rumble in the mountains

A year ago I thought that it all had
Been taken away
But here I am
Here we are
Again on some adventure
Sitting in cafes
Or on the beach
Or in a forest
Climbing roads to castles
Or highways to health clinics
Drinking wheatgrass and trying to eat RAW
Walking faster than ever
Riding harder than before
Leaving gleanings for the G-ds
Morsels
Leftovers

Stealing Dreams

Tell me your dream
Tell it to me in black and white
With black and white flowers
Whose petals are not withered
Whose petals are fresh as virgin winds
Blowing hot in Utah's Canyonlands

Show me your dream
Show me where it will take you
Let me imagine it for myself
So that I can smell those Bermuda flowers
From miles out at sea
Before land even crests the horizon

Hand me your dream
Let me hold it tightly to my chest
Squeeze it till I cry
So that my tears will in some way come to symbolize
This dream so out of reach
Yet so real-
That it has no choice
Then to become my own.

Race in Meggido

Oh gosh...the extra large shirt is blowing in the wind slowing me down and giving me a ballon like look! No matter, was a fun race and I was actually focused (at least at this point) as the look might suggest. J

Forrest Blowing in the Wind