He is thrilled

The light is brightest over by the window

Look, the shadows are bathed in it

So much is happening in the silence

Not much otherwise

My dog is a good dog

He saves his chewy bone till I get home

Many believers are confident

Many are humble

He doesn't look at the things we look at 

He is not thrilled by our ideas

He is thrilled by faith

He even marvels at it..

I do too

Just look at the abuse in this world

Look at how many die every day

Look at how many lose it all

Bombs

Banks

What is the "Road less traveled"?

It is a peaceful road of choce

wkm

Oxford

Happy Thanksgiving

The Wineskins are thankful, and we're putting together the new FAN mailing list. Are you still there? We are putting together tour plans based on where YOU are. We are planning to come to places no one else goes...from small towns to fields and back porches. We will be doing songs from the upcoming FIRST album, "Rattle My Faith". We will also be playing brand new tunes, and even writing some tunes live. No kidding, we are going to invite you to sit in while we write, live. Stories, music, poems, and melodies.

Please "LIKE" us and sign up for our NEWS by sending us your email. www.facebook.com/thewineskins

Peace and Love!

W. Keith Moore and Jeff Gordon ( The Wineskins)

Another new Wineskins tune/Video

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f3cmdPRY83w

Hope you enjoy it.

wkm

Here's the LINK!!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k4V-FB99KvQ&feature=BFa&list=PL1BFC3AEC99DADBD3

The Wineskins Videos on YOUTUBE

Hello folks, long time no email, but I have been busy.  My band, The Wineskins, will be releasing a new album, our first, this fall. Hopefully by late November. In the mean time, I have produced 4 videos with 4 tunes from the album.  I hope you will enjoy them, "LIKE" them on Youtube, Facebook, Twitter, etc... 

Here is the link to "Down Here I'm Free" and you can watch the other three here also.

Peace,

Keith

The Long Light

The light of spring announces the coming of the long light

The summer days coming will be bathed in the strength of the long light

Spring is the foundation for this light rolling in with powerful thunder storms, pulsing

Flirting with our human perceptions of change, grace, hope, wildness, verve

My dogs speak to me with panting, tongues hanging out from exertion in the heat

Last night we drove the jeep down to the pier overlooking the lake we have moved to

The spring wind made ripples on the surface, wind hurtling out of the west

We stood on the rail of the pier, leaning into its gusting heavy gale

The dogs barked and jumped up wanting to join us.

wkm

Oxford (The Lakes)

I realized Something..

I laid down in the yard a few minutes ago,

had a Leonard Cohen song in my head

"Show me the place where you want your slave to go,

Show me the place, I've forgotten I don't know,

Show me the place, Where my head is bending low,

Show me the place where you want your slave to go."

Reminded me of St. Paul calling himself a slave for his beloved.

And I wondered why I even thought of this..why, what for?

"Show me the place, Help me roll away the stone

Show me the place, I can't move this thing alone

Show me the place, where the word became a man

Show me the place where the suffering began.

I looked up at a falling star and realized something..

wkm

Oxford Ms

"LIKE" us.. or whatever dadgummit.!!

Come on folks.. "LIKE" us or whatever... it will HELP us get more exposure....and that seems to be the path to some kind of shallow happiness.. and i think we are ready for a little of this happiness...

http://soundcloud.com/catswithbeards3

Love, Keith

Gates of Dignity

I was just watching a video on youtube about Leonard Cohen's journey into Zen Buddhism..

He found help for his chronic depression and self destructive lifestyle..

I felt a wind in my study as I watched, a cool wind blew upon my right shoulder

And please know there is no wind here as I write this..

I am Catholic, and I am religious, not "spiritual" like I used to say..

I am a religious being who needs ritual, liturgy, ancient traditions that are ever new..the Mass..

The wind made me think of Pentecost..not the Pentecostal church in American culture,

but the moment when the Apostles knew language didn't matter..

It caused me pause and deep joy and humility about being Catholic..

the beauty of the "Ancient ever New"..

It is something Hell will never overcome..

something Hell looks upon with curiosity and awe..(even the demons believe, and they shudder)

no matter how many Luthers or Calvins hell encourages in their "good" pursuits,

it will never overcome the gates of mercy built by the loving Jesus given to the world through the fisherman Peter....

These are beautifully strong gates which invite all to enter.

Gates of incredible bloody wounds and scars that keep no one who wants in,, out..

These are gates of mercy, beauty, grace, and love,

Justice, sin forgiven, and sinners groping for a life of beauty, and deep holiness amidst the struggle..., 

Of those desiring the field so they can have the treasure..

Giving all, selling all, ahhhhhh, God help me, I am weak beyond my weakness..

wkm

Oxford MS

For Thomas Merton

The Hills

Can we even begin to contemplate the beauty of a spring morning at dawn? Just across the way in the coming light there is a vale of fog covering the rolling hills. Dogs are barking far off in the distance causing my dog to bark. I hear Blue Jays and Mockingbirds singing because they can't contain themselves. My dog just came back in the house and is licking my arm, asking for a treat since he did such a fine job defending the house. Hold on a minute while I get him one...Ok, I'm back. I wonder if the seasons are god's way of revealing heaven's opposition to boredom. For instance, I have now seen these spring hills I described in summer, winter, and fall; and though the same hills, the scene is always unique to the season. In summer, the morning sky over those hills is resolute, shimmering, easy to understand. In the fall, it is soft, mysterious, playful. In winter, it is brooding, close, carrying a strange luminous light. As spring has sprung it is opaque, colorful, playful, alive. So often the voice of our heart wants to sing like these birds are singing, it can't help it.

wkm

Oxford MS

Cat With Beards

Hello my old friends from the past 6 years of emails, poems, songs, and musings.... crazy to think some of us have been in communication for over 6 years now..bizarre..

As you know, I am back home in Oxford, God's Country, Mississippi.. So happy to be home..and thankful for the journey in Nashville over the past two years.. It was a time of learning humility and making music, I hope I learned something...

I have started a new band here in Oxford..."Cats With Beards". Three dudes with facial hair who play numerous instruments, thus,  "Cats"..

Bear...he plays Banjo, Mandolin, Piano, Organ, Bouzouki, Guitar, harpsichord, ukelele, and other stringed things..

Greg...he plays Cello, Sting Bass, Bass, Mando Cello, Fiddle, Violin, and anything in the classical string world.

Me..guitar, percussion, hollering, singing?, bass, drums, synth, classical guitar, harmonica, piano, lawnmower and machette..

Listen to these songs and sing along my dear old friends...they are about stuff humans go through every live long day..

http://soundcloud.com/catswithbeards3      and don't forget to "LIKE".. it makes me feel good.

wkm

Oxford

beauty, honesty, hope...

The Feast of the Sacred Heart was for me a day of grace and seriousness. Twenty years ago I was uncomfortable with this concept. Now I see the real meaning of it (quite apart from the externals). It is the center, the "heart" of the whole Christian mystery.

There is one thing more – I may be interested in Oriental religions, etc., but there can be no obscuring the essential difference – this personal communion with Christ at the center and heart of all reality, as a source of grace and life. "God is love" may perhaps be clarified if one says that "God is void" and if the void one finds absolute indetermination and hence absolute freedom. (With freedom, the void becomes fulness and 0 = infinity). All that is "interesting" but none of it touches on the mystery of personality in God, and His personal love for me. Again, I am void too – and I have freedom, or am a kind of freedom, meaningless unless oriented to Him. ---Thomas Merton, a few weeks before he died..

Where are the "John Hammond's" of our day?

Here is a quote from a bio about Leonard Cohen  http://www.guardian.co.uk/theobserver/2001/oct/14/features.magazine37 ....(He would never have made it on American Idol)

There seems to be no one making a name for being a maverick in our musical world...no one seems to be taking chances on the possibility of a Dylan, a Cohen, etc... all we have today is frightened little music business people kissing the likes of Simon Cowel's boootay, shrieking at their own shadows like little children....so sad and so pitiful..art is forgotten by the masses.. thank God for the internet and the many making music everyday in their dens, bathrooms, garages, basements, etc...

 Check it out...

"Cohen's own future took off one night in 1967 when he supported Judy Collins, the 60s folk singer, at an anti-Vietnam war concert at New York Town Hall. When he took the stage, his guitar was out of tune, his voice froze to a whimper and he ran to the wings with stage fright. He was terrified. But both Collins and the chanting crowd persuaded him to take the microphone again. As soon as he did, they loved him. He was signed to Columbia records by a maverick talent scout, John Hammond, the A&R man who had taken similar 'risks' on unknowns Billie Holiday and Bob Dylan."

The Moon Spoke To Me

the moon spoke to me this afternoon

you know, the moon that appears in the  afternnon sky like a ghost of a moon..

 

It said...

"Seek all I am reflecting my child." (sounded very eastern)

 

"The moon generates no light of its own." said my mind to me.

"It reflects the sun as do all the STARS.".

 

Upon hearing the word, "STARS", I thought of Cary Grant, Hepburn, Deniro, Brando,, etc..

But I felt a tinge of direction that said, "Not those stars dumbkoff!."

 

The great mystery of believing in this world of anti-belief is a gift, a child like taste of beauty..

"All fo those who act, write, and sing, but don't struggle with the Other, only hope to be child like"..she said.

 

She showed me a picture of Faustina, Mother Teresa, Magdelina...etc..

I held them in my hands of clay and kept these things in my heart...

 

I walked over to the river flowing near the hotel and sat down amidst the wildflowers and the waking bugs of spring..

She walked up behind me and sat upon my shoulders with her legs and bare feet falling forward upon my chest.

In the distance back toward the hotel I heard The Rolling Stones singing "Sympathy for the Devil"...

Isn't it amazing how this life makes sense just when you think it will never do so?

 

wkm

Oxford Ms

or not....

If I could write something that meant anything...

I might write this..

Every single human who breathes,

Feels something..

Hunger, desire, hope, faith fear, doubt, dread, peace, anxiety, pain, pleasure, confusion, worry, jealousy, trust, numbness..

All that stuff..

and 

but

here is the mystery..

not one single explanation suffices..

or,

God suffering along with us..

which is so beyond our imagination..

doobie doobie do..

gracias.

wkm

Oxford Ms

Show Me the Place, by L. Cohen

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uMwbU-IpNdA
Show Me The Place 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uMwbU-IpNdA



Show me the place where you want your slave to go
Show me the place, I've forgotten, I don't know
Show me the place for my head is bending low
Show me the place where you want your slave to go

Show me the place, help me roll away the stone
Show me the place, I can't move this thing alone
Show me the place where the word became a man
Show me the place where the suffering began

The troubles came, I saved what I could save
A thread of light, a particle, a wave
But there were chains so I hastened to behave
There were chains so I loved you like a slave

Show me the place where you want your slave to go
[- From :http://www.elyrics.net/read/l/leonard-cohen-lyrics/show-me-the-place-lyrics.html -]

Show me the place, I've forgotten, I don't know
Show me the place for my head is bending low
Show me the place where you want your slave to go

The troubles came, I saved what I could save
A thread of light, a particle, a wave
But there were chains so I hastened to behave
There were chains so I loved you like a slave

Show me the place
Show me the place
Show me the place

Show me the place, help me roll away the stone
Show me the place, I can't move this thing alone
Show me the place where the word became a man

one more thing tonight sleepy heads..WOW!!!!!!

Seth: You have such vivid Christian imagery in many of your songs,
and much of it is contrasted with the selfishness of the "modern"
individual. I was wondering what's your take on the state of
Christianity today?

Leonard Cohen: Dear Seth, I don't really have a 'take on the state
of Christianity.' But when I read your question, this answer came to
mind: As I understand it, into the heart of every Christian, Christ
comes, and Christ goes. When, by his Grace, the landscape of the heart becomes vast and deep and limitless, then Christ makes His abode in that graceful heart, and His Will prevails. The experience is recognized as Peace. In the absence of this experience much activity arises, divisions of every sort. Outside of the organizational enterprise, which some applaud and some mistrust, stands the figure of Jesus, nailed to a human predicament, summoning the heart to comprehend its own suffering by dissolving itself in a radical confession of hospitality.

  http://davidsarahdark.blogspot.com/2010/01/leonard-cohen-on-state-of-christianity.html

Peace y'all,

wkm

Clouds (with photo)

I am sitting on the back porch looking through the screen..

you know, i never thought a screen could be a participant in expression

but look at those clouds there in the skiy..

they are given swirl, color, and motion by the screen i am shooting through.

Could this be art? Is this not expression?

Possibly, "art" is everywhere in every moment..

We sing, paint, build, decorate, imagine..

When we try to define expression (art),

the explanation falls flat.

I see Spring coming in those thick magnificant clouds without rain,

there is more light in them than i have seen since Septmeber,

you probably see it too.

I sense more and more that ALL expression is about that ancient idea, "The Image of God".

Walk outside and look at any tree; perfect, bent, broken,,brilliant..beguiling..

look down at the ground..grass or pavement, rocks or dirt,,, it's all saying something...

Whether one writes, sings, builds, pulls teeth, paints, sells things,  encourages,  doctors, nurses, accountant, cattle rustler, horseman, priest, televangelist, prison gaurd, mother, pilot, porn star, hunter, fisherman, drywall man,  boxer, sportsmen, waitress, producer, teacher, jury administrater, military, president, dictator..whatever dude.

Even dogs express..Even cats..Even frogs by the pond.

Stars sing while they reflect the light....

but of course,, you know all of this.

All i know is these clouds meshed with this screen is an enchanting moment..

Peace,

wkm

Oxford Ms.

Clouds

I am sitting on the back porch looking through the screen..

you know, i never thought a screen could be a participant in expression

but look at those clouds there in the skiy..

they are given swirl, color, and motion by the screen i am shooting through.

Could this be art? Is this not expression?

Possibly, "art" is everywhere in every moment..

We sing, paint, build, decorate, imagine..

When we try to define expression (art),

the explanation falls flat.

I see Spring coming in those thick magnificant clouds without rain,

there is more light in them than i have seen since Septmeber,

you probably see it too.

I sense more and more that ALL expression is about that ancient idea, "The Image of God".

Walk outside and look at any tree; perfect, bent, broken,,brilliant..beguiling..

look down at the ground..grass or pavement, rocks or dirt,,, it's all saying something...

Whether one writes, sings, builds, pulls teeth, paints, sells things,  encourages,  doctors, nurses, accountant, cattle rustler, horseman, priest, televangelist, prison gaurd, mother, pilot, porn star, hunter, fisherman, drywall man,  boxer, sportsmen, waitress, producer, teacher, jury administrater, military, president, dictator..whatever dude.

Even dogs express..Even cats..Even frogs by the pond.

Stars sing while they reflect the light....

but of course,, you know all of this.

All i know is these clouds meshed with this screen is an enchanting moment..

Peace,

wkm

Oxford Ms.

Unexplainable

Haven't written anything in a while..

at least not that I have sent out to you thinkers..

sent out into mystery...

This mystery life...

A riveting mystery..

not a Sherlock Holmes mystery..

but something else.

In suffering, it is there..

In not suffering, it is there..

In pain, it is there..

In no pain, it is there..

In sadness, it is there

In joy, it is there..

Not something ever understood..

Has anyone ever explained a sunset adequately?

no

It's peace with mystery..

The beguiling, riveting, demanding,,.

life of believing in the Lord of mercy, justice, love, and grace...

it ain't easy once you do.

Things get  interesting.

wkm

Oxford

Please....?

Buy this ALBUM..every song..It ain't simple, bit it sure is real.

http://www.amazon.com/Old-Ideas-Leonard-Cohen/dp/B0067LY4WG

Love ya,

Keith

Say SOMETHING

When I write this stuff..

these prayers for humans....

for that is what we are,

but of course you know this.

 

I never say "I am right.."

I am not confidently proud..

I am a hoper..

I am a slave of justice and mercy..

 

I wear so many masks I fool myself

Once when driving across this country,

our Basset hound howled in the darkness.

She knew where we were going would lead to disappointment

 

God is not yet God is

The law of the human heart bleeds like a waterfall in the spirit

Sometimes the woman at the well comes to me in my sleep

I never know what to say

 

Our cat Maggie just crawled through the pet door..

She growled a wild growl to let me know

Isn't that a miracle,

how everything needs to say something?

 

wkm

Oxford MS

Pray

Prayer?
I have often wondered what prayer actually does..
Not in a cynical way,
Not in a doubtful way,
but in a way.
I have read the Saints,
and not one ever changed God's mind.
But prayer always changed their minds.
That is the reality.
All this "name it and claim it"
"If you only believe!"
is bullshit.
Prayer is about a relationship with God
And you know what?
God is never wrong.
If we ask for something that will eventually kill our souls,
He will not want us to have it..
that doesn't mean we can't get it to some extent..
we have free will and that allows us to swim in excrement if we want.
We are all Prodigals in our daily struggle.
It ain't a one time realization..

wkm
Oxford MS

Gate

Deep in the woods I found something..

A gate.

A red gate.

There is no fence..

Just an old rusty gate hanging on two post.

And I feel something when I look at it..

I wonder who put it up and how long ago..

there is nothing to keep in or out now.

Jesus called himself a gate..

for sheep.. for all humans.

But this gate is closed and locked for nothing at all..

Just there, forgotten and lonely.

wkm

Oxford MS

Yes

blah blah blah
blah blah blah
blah blah blah
blah blah blah

somewhere there is meaning
and there it is,, softly screaming
drifting back into mystery
then back again into certainty

which is not certainty in the least
blah certain blah the curtain
The sound of the drum is hypnotic
Blah shadows devour the feast

 Is that an alter?
Is that a holy?
blah blah baloney
hear the song,

so lonely

wkm
Oxford

whew...

Have you...........?
Do you ever wonder?
about the moment....?
(I) Of course you do.

You look all around your moment...
You see hypocrisy, understanding, lying.....
Over there is resolve and reflection..
And look!, there is humility!!

But over there is pride and hardness....
Yes, there it is...
Just where the heart sits..
So???,,, What does this mean?

Bubba walked over with snuff in his mouth...
"Uh, it means this is all a damn curiosity!"
His father took him away and screamed....
Leave my son alone!

Wisdom is not a car we drive down the road...
It is not the engine...
It is not the tires...
It is the road....
whew

wkm
Oxford Ms

Wildness (Moon Creek)

Whole pieces of moon fell into the creek at dawn

I watched them float feather like through the opaque mist

If you don't look you won't see...she said

 

Deeper into the woods

a compass

and an oak stick I have worn smooth where I grip with my right hand

 

Jack stops at Moon creek and drinks,

Cold water up to his dew claw

Pig leaps across and darts into the thicket after something

 

The woods has a wild silence

Though unseen, the animals are there, watching,

wild animals

 

wkm

Oxford

Lost Birds

A blue bird with a tuft of black feathers shaped like a Mohawk landed on a bush this morning.
Just outside our bedroom window, I froze not wanting to scare him or her away.
I have never seen this bird before, and I feel as though I am a "bird-watcher" of sorts...
Nothing like Jim Harrison or Dan Gerber, but I notice a bird every now and then..

I have heard that many species of birds were blown here during hurricane Katrina..
Maybe this is a Gulf Coast bird, or a Key West bird, or a bird from South America...??
After 'Googleing' "blue birds with Mohawks", and finding nothing that resembled my discovery, I called a friend.
He felt it must be one of those hurricane Katrina birds saying he would bet on it.

Can you imagine being blown thousands of miles into an environment where you are a stranger
Where you look differently than everyone else, new food, new weather, new anxieties..??
At times we are blown here and there, near and far, by the winds of change..  Topsy Turvy...
And once we land we start looking for food, for shelter, for friendship, for love,, happiness, security..

When a man or woman coverts to something that they weren't before, they grow a spiritual Mohawk.
Blown into the shadowy gray woods of calling, wondering, "why I am here and what blew me this way?"..
No matter how young we get, our ancient souls still hunger for meaning and purpose, thirst for reason..
Once I thought I could have been a monk, a mystic, but came to realize my feet and hands would not do well with the stigmata..

So I am going back to fishing and will wait for God to cook me some fish on the shore, asking me three questions...

wkm
Oxford

Simple

"What is a simple life now days?", he pondered.
He walked out onto the screened porch, wondering why he had never smoked.

The moon hidden behind a low humid winter dark sky
His dog ran out the screen door, trailing the smell of some animal that had been in the yard

"Is the mind a simple thing to understand?" he asked out loud to god and to himself..
He waited for an answer but none came. His dog came back wanting in.

"Do we really get to choose with all the baggage we carry that affects our decisions?"
A truck went by on the wet highway, tires singing their lovely tune.

"Simple must mean normal, and normal means following the rules of the day." he mused to his dog
The dog looked at him and wondered if his master was ok, wishing he could use his master's primitive language to speak..

The wind kicked up and his cell phone buzzed, a text message... 'Hey dad, can I borrow your Lucchese boots?"
He typed back, "Yea, but please don't get them muddy or wet."

He wondered why God is so silent and hidden, and then he said, "Hey God, why are you so silent and hidden?"
His son texted back..'I will treat them with care."

He sat down in the swing and took a sip of his drink..
His dog jumped up in the swing lying next to him, wishing he could explain what "simple" means..

wkm
Oxford

A Fox

All day Saturday and Sunday in Clarksdale Mississippi
I saw a beautiful Red Fox out behind the house we stayed

The Clark House B&B is a charming place with ghosts in every room
Tom Waits and Robert Plant stayed there last year I am told

We stayed in the "Big Daddy" room
It has an antique bed the size of a 1970's Gran Torino

Delta avenue is where the music is
Ground Zero is a cool place with kind folks running it

Rust has amazing cuisine, grilled Asparagus resting on a dark Balsamic rue
Crunchy catfish tacos with pineapple salsa, cold ale from a local brewery

Red's Blues Club is a real Juke Joint, in every way.
So cold inside everyone was bundled up listening in the red haze of red lights and steaming blues licks

Abe's BBQ is too good..Lucille is the kindest server with a smile that makes God smile
I had Tamales buried in a salad of tomatoes lettuce and onions with mild BBQ sauce...a cold Ultra,

The cradle of the Delta, the home of the Blues, a sleepy little town oozing with art and culture
Its history is cool, and its pretty dang cool today as well...

wkm
Oxford

Running through the Woods

A gray sky morning

Low moving clouds creeping along just above the trees

 

The wind blew late in the night, falling a few small Poplar along the path

Thinking a moment of going back and getting the Jeep it to pull them out of the way..

 

Instead, the sound of something moving through the woods distracted me

It sounded like a man running, not a deer..two feet not four

 

I ran toward the sound as the hackles on Jack and Pig's back stood up rigid,

which made the hair on my neck stand up, feeling the blood pump harder in my veins

 

Both dogs ran ahead, stopped, ears back, unsure of what it was they were seeing..

It was a huge Gobbler..

 

He flapped his wings and made it across the large creek to our left..

He hit the ground running, vanishing, blending into the dense forest, camouflaged like a hunter.

 

A Turkey walking or running through the woods, I will confirm,

Sounds like a person walking or running through the woods.

 

wkm

Oxford Ms

a Balm

I cook every morning, early, around 5:30 or 6:00
Two eggs in olive oil, garlic, peppers, onions, cumin

Sauteed morels in garlic, onions, butter with olive oil
A slice of Provolone melts, melding all into one..

Cayenne pepper, salsa, and crushed black pepper blanket this concoction
Food aroma blends with the dark roast coffee brewing, Leonard Cohen sings deeply in the background..

As I chopped onions I spoke to God
"I am contemplating abandoning musical aspirations, if you agree,,, don't say anything."

The dogs were waiting by the Jeep when I walked out with my to-go mug of green tea..
Jack barked until I put it in reverse and backed out of the drive..  "RUH! RUH! RUH!"

This morning was incredible and crisp, the sun's rays easing on and off my path through the trees..
42 degrees, deer move in herds through the field on the hill, camera in pocket...

God did not speak to me. He did not tell me to do anything, feel anything, His silence is comforting.
Joy comes when we pray for others, help others, halting the damned inward stare that ponders the black whole within

The woods tell me this, the dogs tell me.. the hope of others tells me.. Mass tells me..
Wish I were more cogent with these thoughts, I am trying terribly to be so.

Jack is snoring, lying here under my desk..
His peacefulness is a balm to my soul, possibly like the one in Gilead?

wkm
Oxford MS

Winter Trees

We are Winter Trees
Stripped bare

Naked, waiting, silent, abandoned
Crows nest upon our limbs

We are Spring Trees
New leaves of color, seasonal hope

Filled with life and movement
clothed again

We are Summer Trees
Sweating in the heat and humidity

Languid limbs in the heat
creaking in the relentless sun

We are Autumn Trees
Embracing our slow coming death

Windswept and stripped
The confident cold our destiny

We are Winter Trees...

wkm
Oxford MS

American Idol

Saint!
Sinner!
Wake up from your slumber!
Sinner sin with focus and commitment to your path
Saints serve and love with commitment to your path
This generation shall not pass away
it will linger into oblivion from laziness and mediocrity
no art
no poetry
no irony ( maybe except for Colbert)
nothing stirs this generation's soul except profit, politics, and porn..
Wanting is the music, the literature, Broadway, film...
but of course, there are exceptions..(Big Bad Love)
Sinners who give their all find fixating forks in the road,the severity of the mirror, the need for love, within and without...
Saint who give their all find mystery, the hilarity of the mirror, the need to love, within and without..
from this comes the candid confession..Charles Bukowski, Larry Brown, Robert Barron, Jim Harrison, Mother Teresa...
"Nothing pristine comes from American Idol"...she said as she poured a glass of Bordeaux.

wkm
Oxford
for Jim Harrison

Hush Puppies

As a kid growing up on 60 acres of woods, a lake, and pastures,
I spent 90% of my life outside..eating fresh fish, fried green tomatoes, peppers..

Home cut fries, watermelon from the garden, along with Black Eyed Peas, String Beans..
Billy plowed the garden with an old horse named Maude.

My five dogs went everywhere I went, out till after dark alone with my canine siblings,
Horses, cattle, deer, motorcycles, Go-Carts, an only child, never watched television, three channels...

The lake was 20 acres and it was stocked with Bluegill, Bass, and Perch.
We fished whenever we wanted, I would take either a pole or reel and catch enough to fry..

Billy, my old man, had a large "Fry-Daddy" filled with oil, frying fish was a passion
Nothing in my life has ever tasted like those fresh fish from our lake on a warm evening.

He would fillet the Bass, and sometimes the Brim if large enough..
All of this took place near the large wooden picnic table close to the shore

The smell was wonderful, the air clean, the sounds of dusk on a summer day
My mom would bring the Hush Puppy badder in a large white plastic mixing bowl..

Fresh onions mixed into the badder, salt, pepper, a light sprinkling of Tabasco,
All blended perfectly, little dough balls dropped slowly into the bubbling oil.

My old man had a system, cook the fish first, then the Hush Puppies..
the most beautiful golden brown morsels you have ever put in your mouth..

wkm

Oxford

Excited Soul

I wonder if my soul gets excited when I walk every morning
Maybe like my dogs get excited, barking and jumping up

And I will tell you why I wonder this...
There is a different light in the mornings and a slow change moves in

As the sun burns away the mist over the fields and creeks,
A different light burns away my bitterness, fear, anxiety

At least, this is where my wondering takes me,
to the Other light..

And somehow after 45 minutes of walking my soul feels lighter
then I feel the worry dissipate and fall to the winter ground behind me

My soul and me are the same, not separate or distinct
Body and soul walking through the woods in one labored breath

Now sitting by the Jeep drinking water and petting Jack and Pig
You know what, it's all a big freakin mystery, y'all go ahead with what you were doing.

wkm
Oxford

world without end

curiously, there has to be more than this
but then again,
this could be renewed

wkm
Oxford

Messengers

Instead of walking right in to the thing,
take a minute, breathe, have a look around.

This morning I saw three huge doe in the forest.
They didn't seem too afraid when they heard me.

Their gentle lope reminded me of slow motion footage from a nature show
the long flapping cotton like tails standing at attention

Jack and Pig didn't see them, but instead flushed a covey of meadowlarks.
Little brown birds flying in unison darting in waves to the right and left in perfect time

3 miles in the cold up and down the trails till the crows saw me
One crow in a tree saw us and alerted the other crows

They cawed, telling where I was
Messengers determined to make sure everyone knew

wkm
Oxford

Impression

Through the screen on my porch
seeing the van Gogh trees of winter
a Mason Jar filled with a deep red Italian wine
a picture
it is more
a moment of still life
a new perception,
more for you,
it is it is.

wkm
Oxford Ms

Even the Silence

The Battle of Little Big Horn National Park is a spooky place.
A Lakota Sioux named Harold drove us there two hours before sundown on a Tuesday

His light green 72 Chevrolet short bed Pick-Up rattled, the engine missed and sputtered at higher speeds
Harold looked like a man in his 50's, I learned later that night he was only 32..tall, thin, dark eyes

He asked if we wanted a drink from his bottle wrapped in a brown paper bag,
I took a sip out of no desire to offend, some kind of home-made wine, more bitter than sweet

We parked by the entrance just as dark clouds came rushing, blanketing the Bitter Roots
Harold stayed by the truck and told us to go ahead, he seemed uneasy and took another swig of his wine.

Grave stones cold and white litter the lonely field
Men and horses buried where they fell

A lone pheasant flushed, his rust colored breast standing out amidst the gray
A coyote yipped over toward the Powder River, a chill ran down the back of my neck

To say this place is haunted would be too simple I think, too easy to say.
It is a strange place with sounds from another world, even the silence laments

wkm
Oxford

The Big Picture

When someone you know is hurting
and nothing seems to help
take them on a walk in the woods
a silent walk, no talking, no headphones or Ipod, no phone
just the sounds and rhythms of the woods in winter
after an hour or so of walking, perspective may broaden
the big picture might emerge...
but there is no way of knowing for sure.

wkm
Oxfrord

Mud Riding

I have heard the saying,"Life is a dance"..
but the person saying it is usually referring to a hard moment in life

Today in the cold winter wind I felt a very sincere warmth
I thought about it later when I made coffee for four

She asked me if I do this often
I said as often as I hear Caliente music which is not very often

Isn't it amazing how well Saltine Crackers improve the taste and texture of many soups
With a half a sleeve in my hunting coat, I walked through the shadows at mid day in the woods

No matter how much you think about something,
mud riding never gets old.

wkm
Oxford

Wisdom

"As I grew older, I understood that instructions came with this voice, and the instructions were these:Never to lament casually. And if one is to express the great inevitable defeat that awaits us all, it must be done within the strict confines of dignity and beauty." ~Leonard Cohen.

The Woods

When walking with the dogs through the woods I feel their excitement
I run to keep up through the narrow trails wanting to see what they see

The soft southern winter in these woods makes for strong scents of the animals passing through
Jack darts one way and Pig another, each seeing the image the scent congers in their canine brain

Up ahead among the hard wood and sparse pine I see the white tail flapping clear against the gray and brown
A large doe bounding gracefully through the air as if the ground were a trampoline beneath her

Jack chases for about 3 seconds and realizes he can't fly and it will not work out for him
Pig yips and lets us know she has found a squirrel and would like our attention

We rest by a log for a moment, or, I rest by a log for a moment, they scan the woods
My childhood was spent in Mississippi woods with dogs and my older childhood as well

wkm
Oxford

For the Climb

I do not always see what is coming down the road
in fact, I never see what is coming down the road, not till it comes into focus... react, respond, re-read..

Inside the mind of a man there are many questions but answers often dissolve like alka seltzer in the tap water of stray thoughts
Cause one kid will get one answer and another kid will get another one, whether one is truth or not is another thing

I have spoken to three people about the missing Jeep and where it was last seen
So far, still driving the white Chevy that gulps gas instead of drinking it like the other nice vehicles, but that is hurtful

Both dogs were cold this morning as we walked the old train track trail
40 minutes of picking em up and putting em down and wind so cold it made us wince in unison twice

I saw the hindquarters of the largest deer I have seen as it disappeared into the woods, and I mean ever seen
Could have been a mule except that it wasn't a mule, it was a White Tail big ass Mississippi Deer!

Three guys running by us on the trail made me colder watching them from the woods we darted into so the dogs wouldn't chase
They were dressed like it was 90 instead of 20, running like a cold devil from hell was chasing them

I believe life is a wonderful thing and should be lived with great compassion, abandon, honesty, and focus
1 should give all one has to leaving behind things needing left while firmly gripping the rope thrown down for the treacherous climb

wkm
Oxford

We laughed

nothing is as the slow sun rising in winter, pastel light fading in like the opening of Gorecki's Symphony Number 3
viewed through the frozen limbs of the oak and pecan trees revealing shape, design, patterns.

at 5:00 I walked out an checked on one of our cats who insists on living in the shed now where we have made her a haven
cat bed on old chair with blankets and a space heater for the frigid nights, water bowl, food, and freedom, she was fine and purred as I rubbed her head

Black Coffee with Cinnamon in my Pablo mug made from the Yocona Mississippi clay just 6 miles from here, the Potter from Spain
He wore leather boots like something Davy Crockett might have worn with leather straps dangling from around his knees, be like Pablo..

Pablo looks like an actor from a Fellini film, not just an actor, but the star of a Fellini film, a humble man who works harder than anyone I know
I found two books by Guy de la Valdene at Square Books and was facing at the register when Pablo stuck his finger in my side, "Give me all your money!"

I told him it would not take long and we laughed.

wkm
Oxford

Why Not?

I thought I had nothing to say this time but here is a collection of words:
sometimes the sound of leaves crunching beneath my boots in the winter dawn stirs my soul

The Deer know when to hide and when to be seen much like some people you know
Farther on down the line walking on a trail through the east section, the wind howling, 31 degrees.

I am not sure of anything except that I am not sure of anything, along with the the taste of garlic and olive oil
The stew is in the crock pot, i call it "Continuation Stew", it began as beef stew two days ago, now it has lentils and Andouille sausage

One carton of organic Beef Broth with one purple onion diced, a full flower of garlic, Olive oil, salt, pepper, cayenne, carrots..
the rue from last night, garlic salt, black eyed peas for the New Year, Yukon Gold potatoes,Guinness..chunks of sirloin.

Hemingway captured seasons well, but Rick Bass's journal, "Winter"is my choice for the cold days ahead.
Faulkner loved Paris and Paris loved Faulkner....I heard they love Larry Brown too..I wonder if Larry ever went to Paris.

I am surrounded by happiness and it is beginning to seep through the cracks of my melancholy, filling me with light
A new year to be new..to laugh harder.,to help..to forgive..to release..to step closer to the sweet mystery of Sweet Detachment

why not?

wkm
Oxford