Wednesday, August 20, 2008

Devils tower underground

as children we ganged in our rapid city secret society, the judy avenue gang of bicycle hoodlums ages 4 through 8, tearing up the roads, burning, smoking, stealing, giving all sorts of looks to all sorts of alarmed adults, hiding in the back yards, bikes laid out next to each other as the angry store owners drove by, answering to the police when they came to the door with big doe eyes of innocent concern and fear, no vandal no i, no arson no thief, not i, just baby innocent boy with rolled-up jeans and crewcut, green schwinn bike, just the right size for my 5-year-old speedster abilities, sidewalk, street, over the curb, across the lawn, up the dirtpath, through the weeds, keep pedalling and let the wind blow free, find that quiet corner to hide and listen to the howling rage of broken weather, fast from the east, tornado tearing down the fence, gone now, everyone can climb on through.

"There are two theories about how Devils Tower formed. One theory holds that Devils Tower is a laccolith. A laccolith is a large mass of igneous (volcanic) rock which intruded through sedimentary rock beds but did not actually reach the surface, producing a rounded bulge in the sedimentary layers above. The other theory is that Devils Tower is a volcanic plug, or the neck of an extinct volcano. The composition of the volcanic material that makes up Devils Tower suggests that the magma body was fairly thick when it formed, thus enabling it to maintain the shape it presently has. A thinner magma body would form a hard layer over a wider area that resists erosion and remains a flat plateau. But, since it was relatively thick, the magma pushed into a massive lump, forming its visible shape. The magma then solidified, preserving Devils Tower." (

Monday, August 18, 2008

Meaning past, milepost 103

"Following the described events, and continuing southward on US 84, we observed two additional Guadalupe sheriff's vehicles working the next few miles in that county, all three handing out tickets. Maybe it was a "revenue enhancement" scheme underway. Not much traffic, like I said, but there must have been a goodly percentage of out-of-state travelers who would be disinclined to return and contest questionable traffic citations. If it actually was a speed trap, they picked a good spot for it. Highway 84 receives cars leaving the presently horrible surface of over-used Interstate 40, where the speed limit is dangerously posted as 75 mph (upon which bumpy road I had cautiously and judiciously traveled at 65)." (Laurence A. Keith, October 1, 2004; from Letter to New Mexico)

helen voice, turkey lamb baste found resting, cup oval white composition 3 layer harmony, plenitude grass, telephony bleeding milepost 103, squirrel tone whodunnit rocking ever so gray behind once too many, certainly past dance orientation wringing wet handmaiden granting every wish upon cactus, thirst religion, encumbered latchkey happenstance drastically implicated for staring upward, stars recoil myself worrisome on target, naturally crested with beak attached formally as sharpness falls, gills help when swimming over rocky riverbed, notice hooks with yummy calligraphic worm balancing jokerish life death tummy, invite me to your wedding.

Thursday, August 07, 2008

Igor vandal

"In accordance with one feature of the invention, in certain particularly important embodiments, the push-buttons are biased to their inoperative positions by a novel spring arrangement. The buttons are connected in a"push-to-talk" mode such that communication with the remote location can only be had during the time the buttons are held in their operative positions. No handsets are employed, and the possibility of a connection with the remote location being maintained after leaving the station is eliminated." (from Patent application No. 415782 filed on 10/02/1989)

static state one in which the nerves blocking tubal access from concocting this notionally foolhardy "way of isle, the riches style is tame, but is not real it seems, compared to wild wild wild dreams, your wild wild wild reams, your wild wild dreams" (from "wild" 1985). very nice jam session and motorcycle ride on tuesday in the warm evening, blessings on the new tires, those soft guitar cases with double shoulder straps, gasoline, my new helmet, all of the small pond folks who sing and play and listen with grace to each other, then a visit to the forest yesterday as a healing, preparing the way for visitors to rancho lebamo, love and cool forest air is polishing my wishing stone, now back to work.

Friday, August 01, 2008

Terracita blonde

when traveling up little elk creek canyon as a child on the gravel road, which is now gone, washed out by the flood of 1972, the dust would choke me. it was always a fight among us boys as to whether rolling the windows down all the way or up all the way was the best option for keeping the dust at bay. I liked the more fresh air option, even if there was a dusty smell at least the air was moving rapidly (well, 25 mph rapidly). the blonde and gray limestone canyon walls high above us were a fascination, a distraction to not being able to breathe well. white gates and red gates, where the canyon walls descended to the road leaving a narrow passage, so narrow that at red gates a house-sized, squarish boulder leaned out overhead and driving beneath it was a thrill we always commented on. those were the days of hands, arms and heads out the window, something i would never dream of allowing my kids to do today for fear of losing part of themselves. and no seatbelts, no fear of a crash, even with the narrow road, loose gravel (cousin steve and i crashed on that road as teenagers by rounding a corner too fast) it was magic, impatience and ecstatic natural appreciation combined, and i can still feel that magic when i walk down the canyon today on my visits back to south dakota.

"One of the many wonderful things Laura taught me is that no mother, not even one who has won “Mother of the Year,” is perfect, but all are called to a deeper relationship with God. We still bring up the story she shared about the year she tossed the Advent wreath out the sliding-glass door because her children would not cooperate with her plans to bring the light of Christ into their home! When the snow cleared in the spring, an exposed wreath peeked out as a reminder of a well-intended but imperfect moment of wanting to better know God. Even exceptional mothers have their bad days! And of course even Christ had some “bad” days. How refreshing to know we don’t have to be perfect: only to yearn for perfection and to seek it through Christ’s love, guidance and example, which had become Laura’s quest." (from Tuesdays with Laura by Roxane B. Salonen)