I am afraid to sit
upon my own
doorstep
To see what happens

The events of others
of creatures walking
the flights of birds

the windows
the trees
the cars screeching
People talking
shouting

How can I dive into the world
and say

I know it well?

How can I say
I am human
If I don't know my own home?

Until I can simply sit still
and listen to
it's sounds
it's silences?

I will remain
afraid

Of my home
my spirit

Afraid of the world.

c. 2002/2005 scorpionfish

My lost friend.
Roger Thomas Hearld. A truly gifted and unique film maker...killed in a car crash on the 710
freeway at 26 years old.
Being an atypical guy, most of my best friends are women--most men only want to know what
you've been doing, not feeling...Roger was an exception.
He was/still is a brother and true friend to me.
He took photos that would land me my first art show, shared his knowledge of film and
passed on his love of the medium to me, he actually set boundaries for our friendship
(most people don't do that), and he taught me that to be truly creative, you need to take
chances...otherwise it's just static and noise..

Hymn To Pan
Aleister Crowley, 1929

Thrill with the lissome lust of the light,
O man! My man!
Come careering out of the night
Of Pan! Io Pan!
Io Pan! Io Pan! Come over the sea
From Sicily and from Arcady!
Roaming as Bacchus, with fauns and pards
And nymphs and satyrs for thy guards,
On a milk-white ass, come over the sea
To me, to me,
Come with Apollo in bridal dress
(Shepherdess and pythoness)
Come with Artemis, silken shod,
And wash thy white thigh, beautifal God,
In the moon of the woods, on the marble mount,
The dimpled dawn of the amber fount!
Dip the purple of passionate prayer
In the crimson shrine, the scarlet snare,
The soul that startles in eyes of blue
To watch thy wantonness weeping through
The tangled grove, the gnarled bole
Of the living tree that is spirit and soul
And body and brain - come over the sea,
(Io Pan! Io Pan!)
Devil or God, to me, to me,
My man! My man!
Come with trumpets sounding shrill
Over the hill!
Come with drums low muttering
From the spring!
Come with flute and come with pipe!
Am I not ripe?
I, who wait and writhe and wrestle
With air that hath no boughs to nestle
My body, weary of empty clasp,
Strong as a lion and sharp as an asp -
Come, O come!
I am numb
With the lonely lust of devildom.
Thrust the sword through the galling fetter,
All-devourer, all begetter;
Give me the sign of the Open Eye,
And the token erect of thorny thigh,
And the word of madness and mystery,
O Pan! Io Pan!
Io Pan! Io Pan Pan! Pan Pan! Pan,
I am a man:
Do as thou wilt, as a great god can,
O Pan! Io Pan!
Io Pan! Io Pan Pan! I am awake
In the grip of the snake.
The eagle slashes with beak and claw;
The Gods withdraw;
The great beasts come, Io Pan! I am borne
To death on the horn
Of the Unicorn.
I am Pan! Io Pan! Io Pan Pan! Pan!
I am thy mate, I am thy man,
Goat of thy flock, I am gold, I am god,
Flesh to thy bone, flower to thy rod.
With hoofs of steel I race on the rocks
Through solstice stubborn to equinox.
I rave; and I rape and I rip and I rend
Everlasting, world without end,
Mannikin, maiden, maenad, man,
In the might of Pan.
Io Pan! Io Pan Pan! Pan! Io Pan!

thank you Bret!

I will wade out
till my thighs are steeped
in burning flowers
I will take the sun in my mouth
and leap into the ripe air
Alive with closed eyes
to dash against darkness
In the sleeping curves of my body
shall enter fingers
of smooth mastery
With chasteness of sea-girls
will I complete the mystery
of my flesh
I will rise
after a thousand years
lipping flowers
And set my teeth
in the silver of the moon

~EE Cummings

mira

reading
exchanging
words
hearts
balancing
on a
golden thread

of distance

"so Near, yet so Far"

only a few minutes away
I could just walk out my door
and across the cold water

cold wet feet
warm
full
heart!

2006 scorpionfish