The Narrative Image

...lies about its intentions smooth skin over muscles underneath covers the pointy things polishes objections into tiny pebbles has forgotten your name, but keeps a straight face A face like a river is beautiful... ...and divisive I purposefully stroke her wrinkled but ageless face only to find myself an island Click on image to view slightly larger version As night approaches, the river and the sun call a temporary truce. Waves of discontent diminish in the silence But once the sun is gone, the river whispers... dark tales of floods and cataclysms the passing of cultures and gods emphasizes Good Friday at the expense of Easter... click on image to view slightly larger version ...shows me the transitory nature of grass  waits smugly for me to understand the metaphor a sharp cold breeze...   convinces my bones "Yes, but resurrection." the sun reiterates.

Note: I’ve mentioned this before, but a really great resource for Portland residents who like to hike is Portland Hikers.org: Portland Oregon’s Hiking Network http://www.portlandhikers.org/ The following images are derived from following the Warrior Rock/Point Lighthouse hike as described here: http://www.portlandhikersfieldguide.org/wiki/Warrior_Point_Hike Even though I was once an art major, I couldn’t think of any more names to describe the colors of mucus that I was able to blow out of my nose. After a week, I was convinced much of it was brain matter. I couldn’t think anymore, most of my parts hurt, and the coughing was starting to aggravate my ribs. When the weekend arrived, all I wanted to achieve was the oblivion of sleep. But at that unexpected moment in the dark hours before dawn, as I eyed the threshold to unconsciousness... some electric stimulus - a message passed along an ethereal network - the inspiration from a muse, invited me to wander. The drive to Sauvie Island w...

Prologue: paper boat cast adrift on the current sent on an indeterminate voyage bound to get soggy destined to sink fun in the journey (for the creator?) silver fry cast adrift on the current sent to the ocean bound to return destined to spawn (and die) (Fun in the journey?) the River the Current carries us along Maybe we understand the river is a metaphor. Maybe we learn to read the currents and risk the rapids in order to live out the story, to wager our lives and prove we can win…sometimes. Maybe. The Narrative: Well, I don’t know about all that philosophical crap, but my brother Fred, the Monkey-cam and I decided to try kayaks on the Sandy River. We started at the far end of Oxbow Park with the intention to make it down to Lewis and Clark State Park. None of us had ever taken kayaks down a river before, not even the Monkey-cam, and I don’t think I’d taken my canoe down since before the floods in November – the floods that significantly rearranged the landscapes of the Northwest...