dusty old cowboy songs got shit in my eyes again.
got a girl over there waiting for me.
not a hope in hell of prying us apart.
no chisel sharp enough to get between us.
not a hope in hell, no wind strong enough
to blow me of course
willy was right, the parties over.
everybody out, i gotta get going

dust n smoke and a poke in the eye may have blurred my sight..
but my aim is true, and she's way too bright a light
for me to ever miss
not a hope in hell of losing my way
never been lost, it just looked that way.
not a hope in hell, my compass on a river bank
three valleys back.
threw it over my shoulder, just to keep things real.

spin me round and pour another shot you wanna put this to the test.
she's got my heart in a safe safe place
not a hope in hell anyone breaks it again.
a pickaxe wouldn't make it through that girl.
not a hope in hell,  i wouldn't wanna be there
to see you try.
if satan was real, and wanted to take a poke
i'd hafta pick him up, dust him off and say i told you so.

like a desperado waiting for the plane.
i know when to pack and what is important
not a hope in hell i'm missing that girl
nothin in the way that i can't clear
not a hope in hell,
she's got my back
i don't get lost and she don't miss
take my ticket and get out of the way.

serenity mako balaam marsh

I love you sweetheart but when Soo-z asked for a story or a piece of advice for a young lady just turning into a teenager I was stumped. I have nothing useful for anyone at that age as i am still figuring it out myself.
All I can give you is a flash back to the moment you helped me grow a little.
I used to surf your couch frequently, you've seen me at my best and worst and loved me through it all.
You made a stuffed bear for me by the name of mister bear and made sure I had mister bear if I was there in the evening or woke me up with mister bear in the morning if you were in bed when I showed up. One day you told me you had done something terrible and before I thought I accused you of losing him. It was thoughtless and cruel and only half true, you had left him at a friends so and burst into tears when I said that. It took a a big hug and many apologies to dry those tears.
The next day you had made me another bear, mister replacement bear and said I could keep him and take him with me wherever I went so I have. Mister replacement bear has been in my pack around the world and on countless climbing trips. You got mister bear back and forgave me.
That little bear reminds me every time I look at him to think before I speak, sometimes in time sometimes not.
Thank you Serenity Mako Balaam Marsh for the unconditional love of a little stuffed bear, your as grown up now as you will ever need to be and I wish you nothing but the best for ever, amen.

ontario

Eastern canada.


September 2010, left quebec in whirlwind of fall colours and chaotic activity ideally suited to a Hunter s. Thompson novel.

scrawled notes in my old scratchpad i found in my tattoo gear in hong kong transport me back to that day in an old dodge minivan with crazy auntie Turtle at the helm, more stories linked to stories than a person can shake a stick at, best not to get into it right now.

The roads here sparkle, it's not broken glass. Couldn't be, not for this many miles.

The crushed stone of the canadian shield that makes up the bulk of the ashphalt is so high in pyrite and micah that the roads almost glow in the sunshine.

We are rolling thru Ojibway country now, left the Iriquois land to the south yesterday. It's rolling country, looks like lizard skin from the air.

Where the rock has been blasted for road grade it shows it's metamorphic nature clean and clear, folds of one rock and another.

Where the natural surface shows through its moss and scant topsoil coverage it's even more spectacular. Granite ripples stands an inch higher than the sand and limestone base material.

It's a damascus effect on the harsh terrain, scabby dead pine amongs the mosses, lowlands filled with cattails, lakes linked by streams.

Plants have been trying to live here since the glaciers retreated but to no great effect, the rock has soft edges since the ice left. But its not dirt nor will it ever be.

Another day, another couple hundred K.

The obvious Canadian shield land is falling behind, enough dirt to support more trees here. Algonquin national park in the rearview mirror and lake Superior to the south.

Still rugged and rocky, no farmlands for a while. Spruce, pine, tamarac and and mixed decidious colour the hills. Natures palette...

spruce, dark green.

pine, bright green.

tam, a vivid yellow in the fall, the only decidious connifer.

Maple, Birch, Willow, all the softwoods. To many to name, same as the colours they paint.

ROY G BIV. Red Orange Yellow Green, Blue is played by the sky, but the leaves on the hills and in the ditches cover all the others. Even indigo and violet.

Burgandy is the furthest reach of red and could play the part of B but really B is for blue and its a big sky so why argue.

Those are the images as i saw them that fall, saved on scraps of paper then hidden in my bag.

Saved then salvaged, memories from me to you

Feb 23/2011 Hong Kong

goat horns

sliced off tips of chipping hammers
washers welded and quenched
before the fibremetal of my hardhat could react
discontented, disgruntled, unimpressed
welders we are but welding we are not
bone-z says to me
goat you get your horns tonight
as he sits buddha-esque
in the center of an unwelded deck insert
steaming slightly i place my new horns upon my head
not yet! he shouts snatching them away
and smashing the tips against the deck
once, twice, three times they ring out
sparks fly but there is no damage
and satisfied he places the hat with the horns upon my head
boat boy for a decade, its time you grew some horns
scratching paint idly, i listen as norm tells us the nights work
and try not to snicker as he wonders where the tips have gone
off all his chipping hammers.