September 1st, 2012 § Comments Off § permalink

More Jazz Poem

September 1st, 2012 § Comments Off § permalink

Yes!  Ed just caught two fish

In his first three casts

And Dave just caught one

And I want to too

I wanted to write you five days of haiku

But that isn’t enough words

To describe everything

All of the flowers


At the very beginning

It was raining and cold windy icy cold rain

The weather oh the weather

I yelled into the wind because it felt great

Then I was really cold

My body hurt in some places

A lot sometimes

The pain there the old pain

The new pain


It’s a pretty lake

Earlier in the day we did something

That I don’t want to talk about

But it involved trash

It made me think

About our daughter

And how she picks up trash

Or tells me to pick up trash


These stars are amazing

The penny blue daisy

That Milky Way


And lupine, which was the first

Flower I knew with indian paintbrush

Besides dandelions and buttercups

And pussywillows


I’m thinking of humans

As parasites living on a host

That is bound for space dust


Ashes to ashes dust to dust

But are all we parasites

Different types

Some have more kids


Than others and some less

But we’re eating and spreading so

For our own selfish purposes

We should absolutely try to preserve

What we are part of here

Because for us

It’s amazing

And that’s why we ultimately

Consume it


And then we’re trying to

Outrace it and kind of outracing it

By developing new technology

To live forever and discover

How to move to other planets

And outrun it

Then we are jumping to another host and then another

And ultimately the whole universe turns

To dust

But then we have discovered how

To go to the next dimension

And it goes on


I thought about that and for the first time

I was cool and even excited

For our daughter and her children and theirs

To be a part of that


My God these flowers are beautiful

I love the green parts

The green and grey

The greenish grey

Wildflower greens

Before the purples and yellows and white cream



Big big rocks

Oh my love the wildflowers

Follow the water

Follow the love

Follow the water

Follow the lovewater

Swim in the lovewater

Lay in the sun


Thanks bro, thanks man

Hawk it up, hawkman

Pipe it up, sandpiper girl

This the ballad of the hot chick from Mi-Wok Village

Baby, I give you everything else


Baby, I love fire

And marshmallows

Roasted on an open fire

Under the stars in an open sky


There’s a cute grey chipmunk running around

From rock to rock

Popping around with his tail in the air

The fish are jumping just

A little beyond those casts

And then when it gets there

They don’t bother to go for it

He eathes one?

Is that right?

He catches one

I’m goosegg

With three flies somewhere in a tree




If I use proper body mechanics

Let the leg bend

There isn’t any pain

It actually feels good

My whole body feels good

Why is it that man is

So ultramigratory

In the wild?

Scratch that he isn’t

Some are

But a lot are only regular migratory

And know one place well


Hydrate communally

Hydrate yourself


Slow down

If I walk slowly

I eat clean air and not the dust in front of me

What if we figured out a way

To mate man and dolphin

Is that the next evolutionary step species?


No probably not

And Avatar too

But it would be fun


There’s a very pretty stream

With a grassy island

And a cascade

I’m moving in nature right now and it feels so good

These Indian paintbrush

They are insanely beautiful


Yet another different kind of new


There’s a gateway to a higher plateau

Do I speak with it?


Lake Helen acoustic rave

With LEDs

Whatever you need to get yourself

Into an ecstatic state

Key success factors

Hot chicks





To Helen

Expand the guest list

They will understand

That this is going to be a deep connection

To a place and a people

Full moon

Granite slab for the feast

Leave it open

Be prepared with options

Be open to anything



The wind is blowing

The mosquitos are in the air

The wind is blowing

The sliver moon

The stars


I’m lying inside a cage

Watching mosquitos

Stick and weave for blood

Is that sound really just their wings flapping?


Back to Helen at the end of our rubber band

She’s big in a big place

Everywhere on her flanks are feeders

Soft dirt and grasses, flowers

Fat marmots

Her eastern flank climbs to the end

The chiefs and shamans sat on that green and rock spot

Overlooking a lot of it but not all of it

There are a number of other plateaus

The river winds and tumbles through the center

To Helen


Roland’s scene

Is on a narrow rocky flat under the snow

There’s lots of water moving underneath

He thinks he’ll have a boom box

Did the whole tribe come up here in summer

To hunt and party

To live?

Or was it just some?

I’m seeing for the first time

A tiny five-petaled white flower

With purple pollen balls in each petal and more

In the center

I keep thinking vetch?

We’ve seen this one together


Dave feels he pulls a little more

Than his weight on these trips

I’m not sure I agree

There’s a white airplane cutting

Across blue sky

With green tree tops looking up

From the ground

The wind is blowing



We need two boats for fishing

Love and all the other stuff



I’m carrying this shoe with me

Down from above Helen

Because yes it is a pain in the ass

But it’s the right thing to do

Ashes to ashes

Dust to dust bullshit

This is the right thing to do

Everybody now breathe


There spiderman with the huge thighs

Just behind the couple of yoyos


No word from the spider

Follow the water

Peeing here feels really good

Fucking A WOW!

Beautiful cliffs

The chasm!



Moving backwards

Following forwards




Is your party the cook call?

The waterfall


I feel great

Purple flutes and corn

What was that sound?

The wind

The beginning of a river

The beginning of life

I am good and bad

More good


May this river grant us good fortune

And good health

As our Native American forefathers

The great Piutes of Upper Piute Meadows

Each man has his own way


Oh dusty road

Oh dust


The shoe

My love

Everything is freedom

What do you think about?

Do you speak language

In your thoughts

To yourself?

It’s all good


I love you

This is me

And you

The beginning of life




Oh mighty river

The whistle

There’s a gecko pointing

His head right at our pass

The jaguar smiling

A tree


In the sun

Electric fuchsia hot chocolate

Flowing in the center of a domed horizon

Into my mouth

All systems go

The stars

The stars!!













London 2012

August 26th, 2012 § Comments Off § permalink

More Jazz Poems

August 26th, 2012 § Comments Off § permalink


Cockney Accent


orange cat
whatever was keeping me warm is gone now
when the neighbors cough I hear it through our old walls
that got painted, and nailed, and banged on a few times.
Im finking I wish i spoke with a deep Cockney accent
like I would find my people.  We’d fall in
We’d backslap.
But then quiet and a stretch to hear the birds sing
a prego anticipation.
wait for it.
Or is it just me wheezing?



Little Dicks


Im marveling at the crotch of the New York Dolls
desperately trying to identify
We are a different kind of band
We try to angle our intellect to compensate for our little dicks.




This History Cannot be Deleted


i smell burnt hair on the outbreath
moving my head around to avoid the glare
it shows the fingerprints, this history cannot be deleted.
Access to star streams come form from the white man on the moon
and the Negro before Salt Peanuts, Charlie Brown vs the just plain bored.




A Canyon Etched in Lilting and Dappled Light


Shelve you meditation plans for today
thrill that she read the poem you posted in the bathroom
pick at your calluses
sit through the commercial
rub at your shoulders
groove on the canyon etched between your eyebrows
oh that’s character.




I Like to Call Him ‘Trane


Well shit, now i have to rally
Ryan is listening to jazz pretty hard.
No big i mean just like Coltrane
or ‘Trane as I like to call him.




We Interrupt


We interrupt this poem.




Four Seasons


four seasons
thats what i think i want
i think i am ready
i think i can handle it this year.



You Really Should


i have to get it before the screen changes
if its not here now will it every be?  whats with all the questions
What with the Soul?  the bass line pumps it hard.

PS. you’re really should




TheTortured Artist


The Tortured Artist
made sushi last night for Besse
washed the dishes this morning and sat down to write this.




If We are gonna do this, You have to drive


no i can’t drive
cars in the shop
no gas
ok no money for gas
id rather look out the window
you’ve seen all this a thousand times





We have to Grow Old


man i hate the internet cartoon on the tech savvy and
scarf wearing alt indie headphones guy that sells the life
we’ll never have because we just missed it.
what s all the rave is not our scene
but we cannot retreat to a park bench just yet
We have to grow old.





escucha un nuevo disco de
pablo arevan en spotify.

I took the tomatoes for show
like a vase or a smart people book.
a design within reach
here goes nothin.

Sorry Y’all.

August 24th, 2012 § Comments Off § permalink

Dang we have been busy!  Sorry to let the blog slide.  Man, we have alot to tell you having just spent the last 3 weeks in beautiful portland ore making a record.  More on it and some mp3s soon.  What should we call it?  Bitch, dont make me pee on your wig.

August 8th, 2012 § Comments Off § permalink

I’m jussa player dune wut the playrz do.

so here I would like to discuss what we do and why, and importantly how do we navigate the difference when our opinions do indeed diverge?  In a mature relationship, there a come a time when the honeymoon ends as it were and the beautiful couple then must move with greater compassion for want of understanding.  So, currently we are using words to discuss a singular phenomenon that dominates cultural discourse in this country via the fucked up shit that comes to the masses via the media.  Yet, our words are clashing in a sense though I feel we do indeed agree.  What are we really after?  internet fame?  this is a passing a phase as the viral video.  Put it all in a time capsule for the future historians up against Flaubert (whom i haven’t read) and measure cultural worth.  I feel that our difficulty in this is that we are concerned too much with a fast fashion that is being aggravated by our lack of institutional(?) validation.   Here is another blessing in disguise.  The very thing that is troubling me, I think in the long run, is what will make us and this project better; whatever that means…

The beauty of our embracing of jazz is that we now have myriad instruments.  We are creating music right now.  That is a cool idea that should be obvious to wynton marsalis but probably would not be.  That is why in the revolving door of art being better than music being better than art being…blah  we come out on top as fucking artists that can use any of that stuff and put it together in ways that mimics and comments on the state of  contemporary psychology (psychosis??) that we find when our nations second place in medal counts is assuaged by having not only the most tweets but the most SPIKE in tweets this hour…

Deeper into Jazz is all of that jazz.

So, I think we return to the “original” idea of using this project as an umbrella for housing and displaying all of our experimentaions and dicscovverues when we delve “deeper into jazz” because in doing so we will always being answering only one question:  is this right?

so again so la ti do.  We keep doing everything that we have done since our inception with this idea of music that we have formed independently in our minds.  We make jazz poems, photography, sculpture, rock, paintings, ceramics, rock and photography.  Oh and music.  Fuck it.   When all else fails, fuck it.  This is rock and roll and it is here to stay baby, so roll over beethoven and roll up that mutha fuckin blunt cuz MC MC is col rockin this mic………………….biatch.  Nam Saine?

Reality tv is a very important idea, but I don’t think we understand it like someone that is even ten years younger than us, much less a 15 year old american with extend cable; the notion itself is outdated right?  I mean doesn’t everything come either from a satellite or a GPS?   Lets do it, it will be great, even if just to us.  This is the magnificent gift of the MC, and a very important point to make in this age of blogging experts and faux news:  We have a built in audience of at least one who has invested the time and energy to understand.  This act, though not an act is what we want in a utopia.  impossible to achieve on a global or even national level, but here we choose to do it among ourselves.  Call it leading by example. holier than thou, out just following the words of Ghandi echoed in the oversized ears of the first Black President:  be the change.  It is good enough.  there is no difference in the words of John Cage or Ghandi, or probably even Jesus, or Garrison Keeler; do good work.  Its the american way, and as we lead the world into whatever comes next be it a fuel crisis or an occupation, let us me the light that shines on the world brother amen.  Let us just work and be willing through earned and pre scripted trust that we will die for this, and for what we believe in this collective of individuals with wide and varying taste and ideals.
heat that burned from where?  part of it is discipline.  ours is not in scales but in faith that we are indeed working towards making a statement to and of the world, and the earth that places even a sliver of meaning to this existence.  Everybody wants that, more than love.
Im letting go for now, my heart and head knows how to live on trying to live and making a bit of how we think visible, it deserves that simple because its us and not me.  This is what we do.
This is why.  Its a self serving and fulfilling prophecy that perpetuates itself on leaps of faith and climbing, oh so like a guilded phoenix from the ass and ashes of the american flag.  And the rockets red glare killed a family o’er there but the proof is still cool and we fall asleep grinning.  oh say, can I borrow a dollar til payday when the last of the free gets sucked up in the fray.

Where is the breath coming from?
is is the Holy Ghost?  the Father/Son?
The mama’s boy in corduroy
pick on me
I know it will only hurt for a minute
and then I can hit the showers

And now clean and now so shiny as if to lie
and steal the german marks for my own collection
to jerk of in the back seat while you drive the 500 miles

and 500 more to get me back to a place that I not only understand
but belong

My hero bought me these jeans
with all the money saved on butter and cheese
Thank you uncle for providing for us where our dad was
Jordache for you MOM
Guess at best for Sara
and we all know Meg was a “test tube baby”  I mean
The test of your tubes were a fail, an epic miracle that gave and gave and gave
and then finally held grandma’s hand as it slipped into the dirt, then survived so many
dog attacks
and gun points
and pissed jeans epilepsy
Where was I?  on the phone I guess
asking the standards, making coffee for everyone concerned.

Deeper Into Jazz Reality

August 8th, 2012 § Comments Off § permalink



July 28th, 2012 § Comments Off § permalink

The Expert

July 28th, 2012 § Comments Off § permalink

We are all aboard the theory roller coaster!  Rebellion and rigor are walking hand in hand for us right now.  Seems that the more we learn about music, or craft, the greater the urge to jump the gun.
We have never really had a prescribed form of expression.  Nor have we had a staid framework for creativity.  But here we are in a Kung Foo match against The Expert.  Hell yes we know how to fight albeit more philosophically than physically.  Yes we have a killer instinct (again philosophically).  So, in theory, we could potentially take care of business, but it may not be pretty.  Here though, in this improvisation, lies a wealth of creative potential, potential potentially greater than ourselves.  This is an artistic goal.

How much more valuable is a graceful win against The Expert? Is it indeed more valuable? Nine out of ten times we could answer yes, it is.  It would be super bitchen to succinctly beat The Expert via the established rules.  It would show our peers (and the girls) that we possess an understanding and mastery of this system.
Information is too vast in which to operate without parameter.  The web of the world is cast too far to address it all, though this is our tendency.  We understand deconstruction.  But The Expert understands more.  He only eats once a day, and prays between reps.
We move beyond systems sometimes to greater achievement yet we are often bereft.

More Jazz Poems

July 28th, 2012 § Comments Off § permalink

Be Set


be like us on Facebook
be breathy trumpet,
be swing
be set



Message from Kenya


Message from Kenya:
Nothing But The Soul, Blue Train
Moment’s Notice, Locomotion
I’m Old Fashioned
crazy for you (MF)