Shaped into transformation

I was told I was a black dog and I will be forever that wrath

I force no one idea on anyone. The horrific and heroic, exists in my my eyes.

a time that was before my time, where the feathers of white bird are the arms around me even if gone.

an earth with me, knows me not foreign and reject what is not this place.

a time comes where one must take on a mask

this place knows its own knowing

if you dare to to look at the eyes or tell my kin we are slaves

I will be the black dog you would not want to know. This trade is not for sale.

I am devoted to idea and love with wounds of keep.


Some where in you life find an Atticus, my heroes are my heroes and bonds do not break, I am a zero and one. no escape.

into the clouds and trees

A moment took me where my dog had to do what we all do. Pent up in the car for five hours on long drive. My love asked me if the land I was on was mine. I said no, this is my family property. Some part of of it bothered me. He ran back and got in the car.

We didn’t speak for the next hour and I let it out. Why do you ask about property?!

in my mind because my tribe derives funds in a system, I thought she might be aiming at something of value of who we are.

I hit my hand hard against the wheel. Full of emotion as if I was betrayed.

She said to me, I just wanted to know he was safe, he’s 16 and he’s a dog, coyotes could have been out there and this is a time of season of that desperation. I felt so ashamed for a thought of jealousy that had monetary value of the value of my ideal design of a woman who can know me for what I am worth without drive. I looked back to my dog that is a place holder for us of life, him shaking. I pulled at the first stop so she could hold him like a baby.

I let the darker side of my mind get ahead of me. It became a small lesson where I thought I could not be better for the lesser.

I’d driven so long, her hand at wheel, she nudged me to tell me, this is where your grandma grew up.

I looked back to the seat in the rental car and see the babe, folded in her sweater.

the stem of this argument started about lead singer of Keane sounding like Freddie Mercury and I stand by it.

a story of birds challenging each other where all came down to blue jay and eagle.

in my mind I always wanted to make it into a print beyond a story. Height of planes where I look at clouds I imagine them somewhere top of mountains. I am taken by an idea I stand by, even if I shiver at a gas station by Oso. Her playlist comes on and


the concept of the bird and whale is part, in my idea a bond. When I was a boy thunderbird was said to be a powerful being that had lightning snakes at the edges of its wings. I have not seen demonstration of that. The challenge that posed me reading mythology where the Thunderbird to you people was the size of a hawk.

where the shiver trades place, ask why I am out at 4am leaning on a rented house.

I saw the coyotes work with the raccoons, somewhere the a thing my great uncle told me. Nature works in the night and she is mother of thoughts. my great void to see three that came to see me and because I was travel, I didn’t have anything to throw to them.

I n desperation I ran to my pocket of jacket on the bed, I motioned as a wait. I handed down a bar and they shared it. one of the three came up on the perch and pushed the hand down, not to say, I want more but as if to say see my appreciation, I place my hand and she crawled over my head and pushed her nose at my cheek.

if I were to write it with romantic notions she would have called me, but in all honesty, there is part of me knowing my place and bonds that cannot break.


I am back at a place I start.

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forever whole

no part of me taken from time, all times I’ve carved many things for those who need it to be place. At time any hour I needed to have a place, the place I carved is a closed door now.

this post goes unconventional in midweek, time falls and calls us at time we need it to be. The wound found me in place of my being. A dream of a man who did not whale but his spirit is place of whaler that will not die, it sheltered me not from rain but sun. My life is all but dark hours, lines drawn on anything we can draw upon. We are many things and we are not dead.

We live within a different light. Knights of hour watch.


no death can finds dying of design of mind that wrestle itself. I pulled my shoulder out, and in memory, ending the cedar chips under my feet, I rest for moment. Lean on the work. I lay on them and make a snow angel for a moment to know the only person who would appreciate it know, smiles down where work continues eternal.


I don’t fish or hunt, I make work for ancestry of time. not whaler but there are parts of me that go deep into depth where I loose myself.

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Pushing Forward Back

When asked what it is to make monumental work, I didn’t ever see myself making this in scale perhaps the way painters make huge work as Chuck Close. I recall several interviews where in his early works how it was shut down his aim to do what he was doing. My aim was never to make monumental works. It may have come from necessity for survival of the art itself. This is a challenging time in my life where mentors like Close and Loren White are no longer with us.

When people pass, emotions run high temperament. Sensitivity within myself I can at my best of endurance I can not contain. Those of us who do this work, duty within my hands, there are days I can not find it in myself to do anything but sharpen my knives and adzes. Two days mixing a green that I know I know how to do can challenge me and I would turn the pallet upside down after 5hrs that went nowhere.

Wondering what is next for me to do as these pillars thin, if not for my love of my land and words of my father, go to your name. Walking among the towering giants of buildings as a ‘staycation’ imagine myself a visitor in Summer night to be part of something and hear and experience what I would normally not be part of.

How I had forgotten what it is to part of unpredicable things and appreciate nuances of living. The work in my mind will always be where it is. At this moment in life knowing I need to appreciate the time of what is granted to me with random conversations of places I had explored enough to feel welcome to. I have friends that would joke about this kind of thing, but it is rare to let rest a mind so focused on something infinite, it’s fury becomes a finite.

Walking with a knowing of what is gone, my love beside me, hands in my pockets watching people who visit this place taking pictures of a sunset from 5th avenue, married or single. A need to see this day a reset within me.

Dying in such heat like a dried raisin, knowing a heat rising. October will be soon and in it my time to work hard. I look to that day as some dread as dreary, but in those times are where I am most productive. I drafted a long post about thanking George David based on his birthday that I didn’t judge correctly and I was corrected by his niece that I am in deep appreciation of.

I felt I should have made some grand gesture but all it had to be is be the city and take time and see the world with my love and my time in it. Look at the poles Duane Pasco made in pioneer square and see them in a different way from the time I was a young man. Place a feather from my pocket at the base of the Dzoonakwa and appreciate the time it to for it to be still standing.

Smile and not be angry, in this transformation. No ride can take place of what it is to be the journey I have been taken by ride. As she calls me away, I look back at what I’d saved and watch the breeze take it off in distance.

She tells me, let it be.

(Mister Blue Sky)

Reminded that work will be in my hands and as George David always pointed out time to stop and rest, be the time without tension. We spend all our days pushing and pulling with work a hard iron keep and we are not machines.

I was forest within the trees for a time. Deeply caught in a void until friends picked away parts of web to get me out of my own hurt. In balance of scale, admiration can be admiration for it’s own sake.

Holding hands in love where I can understand, the fingers of my own hands with grasp of my tools will always be my bind. I am those roots of known as she tells me, know you are not broken but root.

Monuments can be made but without substance they are nothing.

I have nothing left shaped by uncle George but a small piece of ivory. An idea I had in my mind that one day I would buy back a painting made by Art Thompson in some sense of resolve.

That uncharted piece of ivory that means nothing to anyone will become something as meaningful when the time is called for me to do so. Carving at such large scale as toll it takes my body, I long for moments to sketch and know over days passing, enduring to make purpose of small object that only belongs to me.

it’s by grace, this word has page to know it belongs.

The stars where you are interstellar, I have my hand in my pocket with harbilary batteries no nft

the ivory in my keep is substance.

As Loren said, not wood or glass, wood withers, glass breaks but ivory is keep.

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Drummer

The day I felt achieved in yoga and feel moved, returning from a an achievement of my life

I went to another gym to run off steam when I am not carving I need the energy to let go. I ran out to get lunch for my parents and my friend Casey called me over. I heard he was in bad times and I can not lie, initially I told him I had urgency to see my parents even tho he told me he just needed a ride three miles.

it was a difficult moment to recall what I was told about wrestlers and spectacle

how we had grown up as young men admiring things and branch off to be different.

he mentioned Beatles and Pete best and I told him I was absolutely not that. I heard where he was going and I put on song to remember time we were young and rode the distance for the time I can take him.

it sears me to my bones to know nothing I can not change money in his hands.

when a man stole my car and we were broke he went on alert like no other and when cops would not do work, the network he found and put him in front of me, for me to be a decision of beating.

drummer

holder of lion



in the void something must come back to power

a dream where
Casey can be these drums

to lift my drummer of my hero dream.

for family know I still sing Blue Sunday.



endurance

to be who I was called to be for seven years imagine a part of self in time of 1956 when Hillaire was called to be a healing of place where war was. When that was my calling I sat at my grandfathers basement and sat with the book left to me and recall myself a young person.

alignment of what that was to be. I dreamt the stars of those writings in those book and now become that man in his shadow. I can ask no person anymore how to do what I do. I stand now with place of that earning but I am still dark side of the moon.

A tree the called me into travel to be.

place part of my heart into the earth far into ways I understand my ancestry.

a nightmare that was within my dreams, until moment of I gave my work to the standing bears, this place I can be myself seven years over myself.

mad max

a journey of place I was taken, dragged thru and many nights. Long for sands and wind

an eclipse made me wild for 30 seconds and remind me all capture of my great grandmother. Her art looked over and forgotten.


to be survivor of few


to keep not hate fore those who continue to tell me we are slaves of their history.

mask we can not wear

my good friend shared to me, how his great grandfather, my hero as much as Chief William Shelton were largely forgotten by most. All that mattered to me my father witness and acknowledge my work in my hands. Pull on my boots and help him in to a theater and see a legacy of Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes. For him to brush my elbow as moments of tension is all I could ever want.




this comes from me, like a dog shaking off sand.

no matter wear an eagle fights a wolf it will find itself to knower

I would dare you to be without mask

dare to be sand among white Swan and know

my father survivor, you son my friend. I die in the river at time, the known are known you know.

to be place of rivalry, know how much my heart is void without the wolves of my time. Wanting a an eagle call.

in time you will learn how much I put into this as a decendant. I am raised as I am and I can be happy in break of dawn and look at bridge. take off my shoes and be human.

Radio Silence, Loren and his spirit will exist there forever, a protection of time

peaceflul and powerful people of known.

if any one person challenges that place

claws will come out and all the birds I protect will know I am not a monkey


with a concept where one can not speak

I can not speak for my fallen but I can feel sentiment of those before me

a rare instance where I can say I wish I were Deniro for camera, we are paint and thin lines that are not interactive but understood and highly valued.

I climb a world when I can and find a way to be a lines that help me work me thru

Going out West Tom Waits

beast of eyes


I am half of whole, a box painted with endurance hale broken a plank half way away in the world and if you found it

it would be nothing but wood and paint.

on the drive back with my father driving him back he expressed his admiration for for the actor who played Elvis in Dune 2. I help him at steps and in these moments I quiver in my chin to know I did this for my last mentor.

my reason to state this is part of humanity because Jeff Buckley when I watched him on screen, my dad said how much he looked like Jeff Buckley and touch my arm.

to know he picked up guitar at his age and play, a man of numbers to lean on an idea I am place with him.

Halajuha

all year I felt he was my enemy I leaned me arms against the bridge and knew if I jumped off I would only injure myself. I can take that gavity away from myself from my nephew. an idea of of responsibility, Where I can be at times a called from my work to lean my elbows over the bridge and watch the water run forever. Run my fingers over the last of things granted me by warriors in my pockets and rub them to they are worn almost down just pocket in my hand. This night I sent a pendant into the river because I can no longer let it hold me. It is a symbol scene of the film but it at its time should not be regarded as anything more than a necklace like a cross.

this guidance of shape and challenge I would not know how to talk to my father about it.


the deep void my father knows together we are lightning placed together when we are needed. Back of my shoulder my father knows I am nothing like him but I am an Echo of Chief White Bird and endurance of Chief Joseph as long as I am here part of that imagination.

Muddy Waters

I recall a story where one of my heroes Joe David was carving a mask on a ferry and someone took time to tell him if he cleaned up his mask he would offer him $50. Or something of that amount. The insult is something that made him one if not the best of our people, well let’s be honest yes.

I post this because we need to gather in time of rememberance and do such things more often. My hands up to my current kiya, when she said we can’t be all same direction. As hard as that is to grasp, I needed time to bring this idea.

I rode the ferry and a young boy was looking for a place to throw away a bent up piece of mid weight card stock.

a model of an idea

I wish I could say I saw a whale fin appear and it drove me to the edge of the deck and know it was a moment where I was moved so much I needed paper. It was not that, it was a place that found me with time and patience. For family that take trips to be on those vessels, in my head I was reminded of a story from my last mentor in the water that put kept his door open.

Reminded how mariners regarded anything in the sea as monsters in that voyage. Before a machine could sweep up everything and discard the world.

With my love I took a chance to purchase a sea urchin to understand what it is to break apart something, because all the passerby look at them like smelt or hooligan.

it brought me back to a place of an idea of time, to truly understand why we pray for our food.

The house of the bridge

I do all I can to be acceleration of my heart within design of what is uncontainable. I go as far as my eyes can see endurance. Heroes of my generation. The day I landed in a place, the void sank within my heart a loss. To be alongside few of us who paint and put works into hands. I met a man toshiro when I need that endurance.

I endure a world without Loren now, and swallow the moon with any time it comes out.

Ironman, Black Sabbath

and Run to your mama now, by Goat.

as long as breath within me, I protect the dark side of the moon. I was born by the river contained that made it brown because a levee kept it in a shape where glacier fed waters run as they do but the salmon still find a way to the water.


setting sun

this lean I go for you

hutch at my heart

my trembling being the water of sheltie you took me into

no seagle flies over head the dark of want I feel place want to be your arms and hands within my hands

as cold as the water would be I go to be stranger on that dock and look at the moon. Drown myself in a pool eternal. A hope from a dock you would come back to see me like a wave and be naked and hold onto the under world of planks our elders lade hard work for.

fireworks go and I go into water for long to sit at the sunset of beach to remember the place we were.

Burn the Cure

2049 world of want

nothing artificial. A nightmare that took place over my heart I will have no regret of. The first kiss of my love a hand I placed at her back I want to die at times but with vision I found myself an emblem in my hand.

we protect a mountain and that is all that matters. The small nuance of feeling the the extension of elders that protect me, where one takes time and a deep wound to kneel and pray for the fallen in the rain. 10,000 years in my hands.

A high elevation of place sheltered by the grown.a war over mountains name the time I was a boy and in my time

a sharpening bone.

she is a place if was brought to a great climb where I would look at her as a learner. A patch of woods like my uncle Dxwsqius would defend with his time. I know this the same.

I painted my eyes to remember the known at the place defender

and seeing the call of all the animals that know my name, I held fear of of the mountain lion all that time to get back to river.

I placed back a bone that in my youth I didn’t understand. But in time only few of us of known can understand known.

when my uncle was gone the magic got bigger and it felt me a heart of known. but when the uncle of my other side came.

all the worth I absorbed I had to give back and be stung by a ratfish and endure the pain where I gave up my phone.

and be witness of the half moon.

there is no pretending. In world gif you are called to be understand the exchange.

an exchange of my rive in woven woes, the bragging you all had of slavery, you wear now at a dark side of moon. the piercing of myself from sun dance a protection.



looking forward back

Taken

I want love as much as the next but Hex is cursor like a code within song that I love.

we have face and shape, but the thing we are, even if we were thinking at place of glass. my heart wants to believe in such things. My heart taken a ride times over if I were made.


the heart of place that takes me is only

self keeper of dream

my man will do

take me thru broken dream, black dog.

I begging a place of want and no waqater at end. I know this story by extension of my roots.

Person I am man not by blood but every pulse of the black dog, I know in his passing, a protector.

if blood is lost within my bones the endurance to be the protector.


Thrower

All in my place of being. A feeling for dream and place.

I one one of few who can say I am no visitor of the field I go to hear the crowds, I believe in the long for every want of men on the field to do their best. At a dug out place of my youth, moments like Freddie I found myself late.

A battle of endurance by battle of long throws, only time can be taken by distance of it’s thrower.

A place I can take moment to look overhead to know to birds overhead. Places no one can take but time. I can let go this black dog idea of defender and know bird fly and hand off story.

I saw a boy given a ball with hi five and moment and that can be enough.

One can not win over and over, without no such journey there would be no place for guardians, sweepers or defenders.

Someday Ohtani may play for us but in the meantime, remember Ichiro travelled a long distance to be inspiration. To remember the Kingdom and walking that place.

I had envy for my mentor to design something once but now understand I’m part of that place I walk thru with you by endless hours of design that keep us together.

fine lines

three broken bats, a place only we know. From time together.



I place I can let Go

Until I had seen on screen the imagination of dream that was captured by the world of Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon, I felt grips within my seat were song and story were wonder.

It travelled a distance within my mind to long for dreams I could be that, touching rooftops for a chase as the moon is bright and being.

An angel came back to me to give me this song from true prayer at the white river.

to battle endurance takes place where you are earned by the work you make. A battle of endurance is to remember within a dog paddle for survival.

I made the swim of promise and went into a journey to learn that place a black dog can paddle. In the woes of my human ears, fast as you can from Fionna were there. To be this the last challenge of hurt in my heart, It is to remember old ways of enduring from a physical property that people of visit can not and may never understand.

When Taqsablu told me her story it was hers.

I went the day to be there in snow and remember to this day I had no direction but still, wanting to honor the battle of endurance of language. It was not meant for me to be there that day. The time I had with her at side with my grandmother I can now let go of.

Going up to an isolation and take a day of resolve, to see the water that moves us all and put your hand in it. Without teachings of Tsa-qwa-supp and Dxwsqius I would have not the value or endurance to climb.

My uncle made fun of movies where it is dramatized to have a blade in mouth. Yet in desperate times I would imagine it was a need that looked good on film.

My father survived cancer and he raised me, and for trade of challenge I go this place.

I still recall a day a man walked into the store I was just 17 and he gave me conversation. He talked about the days baseball leagues were separated and how they played at Muckleshoot.

I told him I was Puyallup and my family. That week I was scammed by a man to tint my windows and was scraping by. I didn’t say much back to him but he said to me, it looks like you are working hard. He gave me a hundred dollar bill. It was all I needed to get me thru that week.

from that place of swim I can bring back a memory in heart of mentoring, no paint on my face only endurance.

the blade within my hand is placed, a grip I can not let go of.

A surging heart, my huč is blade in my mouth still. A time I challenged my being and self worth looking over deep water, something drew me back to be this place and call.

When the world was fearful of Ghost dance movement that is something I don’t understand or research. In search of being, one of mind takes on enduring ceremony by value of a place few will ever know or understand.

The arms I’ve grown into and places I go. Remembrance of places I already know and defend.

Kamaitachi.