Translating to words the sea and tall-tree talk

In Rincon I thought for a sec about going to the beach.  I had a conversation with Konan the night before about surf breaks and it only seemed right.  Everything in me wanted tires on road though and already the 101 was making that certain kind of only-on-101-noise.

The gas station on the right was cheaper by a cent but the cashier in the other one had the night before won me over.  An ESL student with a middle eastern way of averting his eyes which I knew was meant as a form of respect.  The night before I'd asked do you carry tasty cakes and he said, "Excuse me, ma'am, I am only learning english, please repeat the question." We talked about his commitment to learning english and I authentically tried to assure him how successful he already was.  His humility I could actually feel in my heart.  Even though he worked, as he told me, graveyard shift, I still went back to his store in the morning for gas.

I knew there'd be grace then: walking out to my car, in my hand a jug of water and some rugged gloves that were only 2 bucks for later when I camped.   Next to my car a van, the old hippy kind, with a Dead sticker on it.  A guy my age-ish or a little younger came towards me then.  He had the sparkle in his eye and was inside his heart.  I relaxed and smiled big and warm, already had my wallet out…Think you could spare a few bucks he said and then, we're trying to get to San Diego by the night.  I nodded and said a prayer and gave thanks for beneficent road blessings for us both and handed him some cash.

I took the 101north until I saw a sign for Morrow Bay then took that west.  In Morrow Bay it led me down a little access road, it being the magic which by now was back and I had to let it ease through my body in a mild, sweet way a little at a time.  But for sure it led me down this little road with beachfront motels and so I made note, Morrow Bay I will be back.

At the south end of Big Sur I found Sebastian's General Store just past the Piedras Blancas and the Lighthouse of the same name.  Originally my plan had been to get warm lunch there then get north to Kirk Creek.  But in the parking lot it was the feeling of noooo not yet in a soft movement that felt like gentle wind.  So on I went.

I am glad I did that big stretch of the 1.  Big Sur is the only stretch of California coastline on which I'd never travelled.  But then as I got more north I realized wow that isn't true.  In the 90's when my dad lived in San Jose he brought us down that route--me and Sean my brother.  This was probably 1992.

I was saddened by Big Sur because of the invasive fragmite all over the sides of the hill.  As an indicator of the ecosystem a parasite like that, among so much splotches of otherwise bald land, well it told me her health is not well.  I was expecting so much more…green.  Only in the center is there deep green quiet and that stretch lasts only a few miles or so.  I thought more than once, well Kel you're spoiled because you lived on the Oregon coast.  Then realized it's why people keep the magic up there such a secret, it's own private host.  Kirk was all reserved and the other campsites too. I was deeply content already just with my drive and really wanted, needed big trees so anyhow so I turned right in Carmel--which means towards inland--and got a room for $50 when I got to Salinas.

Salinas is mostly Mexican which anyway next to the wealth of Carmel made me feel more at home.  I got tacos and watched the Ravens win on cable.  From there, next morning I got on 1 again and took it towards Santa Cruz.   I got to Big Basin and lost my cell again, which made me happy because it was the final piece of grace towards the silence that I need.

This morning all I could see was no shower with the crisp yum of redwoods still in my hair and curled up some place with poetry and coffee.  So I set out knowing that was it, magic vision flowing like it oughta or useta or is anyway again, and now on the other side of those coastal ranges I landed in the town of Saratoga in a wood floored cafe that roasts their own beans.  I had the most blazin burrito for breakfast even though it was already close to noon.  In this valley where around me the redwoods sing the sound you need absolute quiet to hear--well, yes.  Cozy is the word.

Writing now and will scootch to the corner in a second for a over-stuffed couch and poems and the real work, which is translating to words the sea and tall-tree talk.

Humboldt in the morning, with soul-fam.

As it should be, for Giving Thanks.

Poltergeist Love, the power-full prayer. & the hokey pokey.

Ha ha when the people say you're still writing?What's that book about anyway?  Yes I'm still writing yes I'm still writing what's it about?  Well what's life about?  Up to your own two eyes.  Human hearts and the poetic voice oh unfair unjust world.  Ha, the sun.  We rose up out of the primordial goop-funk amoebic then with gills then feet then thumbs.  Now voices.  Sing, speak, speak the earth the roots and the moon.  About this stuff.  That's what it's all about.  That's what all this is...

??

I walked in to my room two months ago with the vaccum cleaner in my hand and smelled the most real smell of him one of the many many hims in the long list of powerfull hyms oooops did i mean that, misspell of course of course (i have devil eyes!) i did.  I have poetry leading up to this.  I smelled him and laughed, there was a shadow on the wall this happens so often with the openness the other side of the creative wall that i laughed but also, angered, quick chased him off.  started to rerun the vacuum then had to tell someone so of course i told kel.   now this:

i have written so long, so long so long (nights at truslow first time back room paul asleep in sleeping bag down coated warmness of woodstove heat trapped inside tall pine trees at truslow spring-truth please those long, terrorizing days o would you come voice or death something, be raised all those terrible days at anngar farm.  o and let's not forget oregon?  the time first, knelt on my knees ordered a used computer over the internet came in a box banged up set it in the corner of the trailor on a small table barely a foot off the floor beach days so much sun tree afternoons so much rain and i would kneel there, write and of course pray) i have written and written and waited so soo long for this and now i am here, having written it out every step and abracadabra open sesame code it took to bring me this far.

erika printed out all i'd given her by the end of august 14 months of submish.  hundred plus pages?  nothing congruent.  now congruent as a dream! funny how that says as a dream as if in the sleeping sense with only one eye opened and not knowingly de dos mundos there is ever anything relevant to see.  as if sight is relevant without it too.

Finally, i am there, this is not a dream. i can smell pine strong as spirit it is real right here with me and on fb another stooopid sign, i say to the muses


ooo holiest of holy all things as one all dark and light all encompassed version of all things encircled and the encirclement of all that ever was and this voice and the outter that handles it, and ever on, and the still uncapsized moment prior to breath, o all love and creation and loss, set it all aside now as i poool from this flood as i pull under and go down to come up with all i have within, set is aside let me do thou work holy of all most especially of my name you have the quality just help me with quantity show up to the page

i am set up now, my ducks in a row.  this is fun, the most exotic strange poetic-practical place i have ever been.

I followed the sea to the river all the way to the snow

Sunset over the valley, Ashland.























Out back of my little suite.

Coming down the mountain, Crater Lake.

Crater Lake

North Umpqua River

Headwaters of the Umpqua

Winchester Bay, where the Umpqua empties

Winchester Bay

Oregon Dunes Monument

This is Banana Dog, he is my travel companion. Follows his adventures here

travelling down coast, between Yachats and Florence

I am way way south in Oregon, about 80 miles from California in a place called Ashland.

I love Ashland. It's like a bigger, happier Easton. And surrounded by green mountains. And a really big sky. And air that I am certain looks like rainbows.

I got here today and spent too much money on a little suite outside of town for the whole weekend. Dinner tonight was with a totally indulgent novel and a fine bartender who flirted with me just enough but not too much, in a dark corner at a high bartable with mosaic art and some latin influenced tapas. Little girls with painted faces dined across from me and kept getting giggled at or shussshed by their ma's. The air was so fresh and full it felt like it could bounce and the sky was orange and seriously, hot pink, when I left and I couldn't stop smiling. On grinbeam alone I am sure I was gliding, I glided along to downtown, to the river walk, to the park. I glided in to the chocolate shop. It was getting dark. I looked East Coast. I got several compliments on my bag. I bought a single piece of homemade dark chocolate with peanut butter and eating it took like three hours. Everyone kept smiling at each other. Even the punk rock kids, the blackeyeliner and metal faces, the dready hippies on the street. Especially the smiley little families everywhere. I love the houses, the cottages, all over the sidestreets of downtown. The flowers and little twinkling white lights. Ahhhhh god I am blissful, this reminds me of California.

Earlier today I was actually on the top west rim of Crater Lake. In the Umpqua National Forest, after following the Umpqua River in from the coast since Thursday morning. By the time I got up to about 4500 feet, about an hour and half from the top, there was snow all over the ground. I was so happy I think I might have been delirious.

It's weird. My friend died Tuesday night, and the poetry light's been crazy on inside me ever since. What's weird is that I woke up in Winchester Bay, at the headwaters of the Umpqua, on Thursday morning after 36 hours of on and off vigil for her and therefor crazy open consciousness, or at least a well-lit opening to the other side, and I went down to the harbour because like Sam said more than once she was a sailor, our friend, so it seemed appropriate, and I cried. And cried and cried, then wandered in to the dunes through the knobby sea pines and down to the rock slats built up against the coast for the fisherman to make safe passing through the harbor. I had handfulls of flowers and ribbons and a little boat I made out of a random piece of driftwood that I wrote prayers and poems all over in black sharpie. I put her candle on it and added an empty Pabst Blue Ribbon cap then scrambled down to the lowest rock I could balance on with the scratchy muscles bracing me and then me and her had our little goodbye. The rest of the tribe is gathering at Ben's on Sunday to say goodbye I get the feeling it's going to be pretty huge, this is where I used to go regularly, Ben's with the old crew, this is when I was in Chestertown. And even though I've been out of that crew for over a year now there was no question about it in spirit we are all together, I am with them and they are all with her. It's all a little surreal and yet just part of the experience of being out here. I finished crying and goodbying then went up to where the harbour meets the ocean and just breathed and took a ton of pictures of the driftwood and the sand. Then I got in the car which is actually an old chevy pickup truck with classic Oregon Coast rust, and decided I had to see where the water that fed the bay that surged to the harbour and out to the sea, where it all began.

So I headed east. Up the Umpqua, and it started to rain. I drove all day, but stopped alot to talk to the earth or the trees or the river or the rain. Which I guess is one of the main ways I pray. Outside Roseburg it was like 5ish, I stopped at a brandname hotel and got her down 25 off the original price but then something in me casted out just slightly, so I said no thanks and on I went. I decided I'd take the mountain road east out of Roseburg then south towards Crater Lake, mostly because I wanted to keep following the Umpqua, we had a special thing going now. And the river led me to the sweetest motel, the Dogwood, in a place I am sure without a zipcode called Idleyld Park I am sure it was the river who told me to go. I'd just been singing and talking to her and then it was like she waved the gold air inside me after I drove by and so without thinking at all I turned right around and they had one room left and it was for me. A log cabin with kitchen and the best little well-lit table where I could, and did and did, write...

Today I started out again next to her, the North Umpqua, looking forward to a good long hike. There were two stops with hotsprings to hike in to along the way, and at least one with pictographs from anasazi and several paths with Old Growth. But the rain fell and fell so much it was hard to tell the sky from the air. So I changed my plans and settled for sure on Crater Lake, and by the time the elevation and the truck met high enough so that there was snow on the ground, the sun came out, too, and the sky went blue. I had no idea, NONE, that I would be in high mountain land today surrounded by snow. It made me so, so happy.

And now I am here. In all I imagine I covered at least 200 miles today, maybe more, and mostly on high mountain roads. The Winema Forest, The Umpqua, The Rogue, The Klamath. This little pickup Gretchen lent me runs like a dream. It's a manual, he grumbles and groans and spouts a lot but then really gets going and loves to go. I dont listen to music, most of the time, except for the tunneled classic and hair rock stations, or country which is my guilty indulgence, so popular out here. It's a...Nice Day for a...White Weddin....Yea rock out rock out scratchy tunneled pick up truck mountain rock!

This is the best thing I've ever done for myself. Life is good. I am blessed. Can you imagine, I dont have a fucking clue what I'm doing with my life when I get back home! He he it makes me giddy to think about it, if it is anything near like the journey I'm having so far I say bring it on.... <>