The Sun White Citrus Collection

Mountains & Deserts

Tuesday, December 6, 2016

Dreaming Life Cereal

Tapping the slipstream, once and awhile...

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Friday, April 15, 2016

Okee Dokee

Sorry KACE, it's all about the G and the X and the Y means millennial-

-neighbor goner. Sounds familiar, doesn't it?

445 Wacouta

Tuesday, March 24, 2015

Harvest Time Reprise

“You left our memory so completely that you don’t even return in our dreams.” 

A goat lived with a nanny goat
The goat went for some bast
The goat went for some bast
The nanny goat went for some nuts
The goat returned with some bast
But there’s no nanny goat with nuts
She’s in hiding

Wait, you nanny goat
I’ll set wolves on you
The wolves won’t kill the nanny goat
There’s no nanny goat with nuts
She’s in hiding

Wait you wolves
I’ll set the people on you
The people won’t bash the wolves
The wolves won’t kill the nanny goat
There’s no nanny goat with nuts
She’s in hiding

Wait you people
I’ll set death on you
Death won’t cut the people down
The people won’t bash the wolves
The wolves won’t kill the nanny goat
There’s no nanny goat with nuts
She’s in hiding

Wait, you fire
I’ll set water on you
The water won’t put the fire out
The fire won’t burn death
Death won’t cut the people down
The people won’t bash the wolves….......

Music by Anton Silayev


Thursday, November 13, 2014

Thanks for the Recourse Autumn

Autumn -
a time of declining daylight,
and noticeable angles of sun not elevated in sky
anticipating color,
bright rumblings of the last flight of butterflies in the stomach of our growing season,
youthful preparation for grade-school,
                                                             high school,
                                                                                 any school.
of pedal bikes,
wind-blown leaves,
pumpkins smiling on the doorstep -
      even the most forbidden neighborhoods walk hand in hand
      illumined by her prayerful gaze
      intertwined with soil.

of fife & drum corps
marching to the football silhouettes across the grain,
serenading far away corn stalks -
a sway to the beat of upcoming decay.

of trees who expose there secret whispers of nakedness and burr.
Charlie Brown oaks filled with swarming, sanctified american bats
who celebrate the time of declining daylight
and noticeable angles of sun not elevated in sky.


her pale features,
that I miss.

Friday, April 11, 2014

Goons Be Gone

Coming from a long time fan and ice hockey enthusiast, I simply have to say - goons be gone. Cheap and dirty play like this tarnishes the game, the league...the grace of the sport. I'm embarrassed for the Minnesota Wild. 

Does this fuel the intensity and rivalry between division foes? It needs little explanation. Still,  I'm against it.  A microcosm for consideration in our daily lives?  Perhaps.


Complete Video
Headshots and the NHL
The Evolution of Goon Culture in the NHL (these stats aren't from SRM either)

Saturday, March 29, 2014

Thursday, March 6, 2014

A Watershed Moment of Forgiveness or... Give Me Some Truth

Context: A humble Catholic and politician champions prison ministry and rehabilitation for England's most hardened criminals of the twentieth century. In a particularly insightful scene from the HBO drama entitled Longford,  a radio Q & A is revisited toward the end of the film whereby an anonymous caller interrupts a sprightly conversation about Lord Longford's love of the saints and bluntly confronts him about his long dedication towards convicted murderer Myra Hindley.

[ view of everything we now know about her, don't you regret having supported her all that time? ...(long pause) it's a simple answer Lord, yes or no? Do you regret it? ]

(long pause)

Longford: [ Not at all, as a matter of fact, I consider my visiting Myra Hindley and, indeed, all of the other prisoners I visited for over fifty years to be one of the great blessings of my life... now perhaps we could get back to the subject of saints?]

Radio Host: [But, hasn't she betrayed you? She's ruined your good name, she's taken all of that hard work you did for her and thrown it back in your face.]

Longford: [Yes... (with hesitation), perhaps there's some truth in that. Ummm, forgiving her has proven difficult, very difficult (mournful expression). Not for what's she's done to me (chuckling) - that's neither here nor there - but the terrible crime themselves...forgiveness is the very cornerstone of my faith, and the struggle to deepen my faith is my life's journey, so in this respect she has enriched my spiritual life beyond measure, and for that I will always be grateful to her. ]

(long pause)

Myra Hindley
Lord Longford

Longford: [If people think that makes me weak or mad so be it, that is the path I am committed too. To love the sinner, but hate the sin, to see the best in people not the worst, to believe that anyone, no matter how evil, can be redeemed... eventually.] 



Dangerous Liason (The UK Guardian)
See No Evil

Despite the rather esoteric and provocative example, how is forgiveness known in our ordinary lives? To be sure, it quietly taps on our hearts in a subtle yet daunting stubbornness - a persistent far away, closen-up embrace.

Let's investigate together.

                                         Chip away at the stone,

                                                                                   And pray this Lent.

Friday, November 22, 2013

The Beatitudes, Stained Glass, and The Gift of Plants: A Thanksgiving Reminder

Blessed are the poor in spirit for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

Blessed are they that mourn for they will be comforted.
Weeping Willow-Mourning
Blessed are the meek for they will inherit the land.

Blessed are they that hunger and thirst for justice for they will be satisfied.
Coltsfoot-Justice shall be done

Blessed are the merciful for they will be shown mercy.

Blessed are the clean of heart for they will see God.
Water Lily-Purity of heart
Blessed are the peacemakers for they will be called children of God.

Blessed are they who suffer persecution for justices sake for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

Blessed are you when men revile you and persecute you
and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account.

                                               Rejoice and be glad,
                                                                                             for your reward is great in heaven.

California prayin and dreamin


CCC 1716-1729

Saturday, October 5, 2013

Notes on Being Off The Rails in So Cal: Part 1 (maybe)

A sense of foreboding and disappointment hangs in the air as I start out on a two week exploration of Southern California.  Why? Simply because deep down I know that our supposed leaders in congress will fail to solve the federal government shutdown in the next several days so that I (and many, many others) can have the glorious opportunity to experience some of our nation’s finest natural treasures (i.e. National Parks and Forests).  The timing is poor, the wilderness hiking plans have derailed...time to re-think the whole bloody trip. First, let’s detour to the Santa Monica Pier and check out Way Over Yonder music festival (think Newport Folk Festival of the West). Picturesque views, temperatures in the upper 80’s, and a fine selection of cutting edge American music should at least sooth a broken heart, if only for a day or two.

Let me also reflect on airports, airplanes, and passengers; of being “alone” in the terminals observing all of the hustle and bustle of people movement. That constant motion that signifies both joy and anxiety in preparation for travel. I don’t particularly share Jim Morrison’s observation that “People are Strange”. On the contrary, I gather up and breathe in a million little details in the faces that I meet- the individuality and uniqueness that manifests itself in this particular landscape. I sense how important people’s lives are, how they are driven to communicate with their loved ones during these times of being “in the air, not on the road”. I also see vulnerability, awkwardness, and patience….security checks, no shoes, lap-tops out, belts off, hands up, polite scans and searches; it’s all kind of surreal.

Yet it’s also a part of God’s handiwork, a blessing and gift in two words – hopeful humanity.  

And there’s everyone on the plane imaginable sy425. All ethnicities and persuasions: punkers, executives, models,students, retirees. Airborne you see the immense beauty of the earth with its patchwork of colors, shapes, and textures. A remote sensory vision of tannish-brown Nebraskan foothills and deep red Colorado canyons where one feels the flow of creamy Nevada rivers, and one understands the minute growth of  grainy, desert green tree California mountains. All of it of course enveloped in a myriad vastness of cloud patterns whose shapes constantly change like a chameleon. Its earth, sun, and moon (well, not yet anyway).

This isn’t strange or being alone is it? 

Perhaps it’s a deep longing for fulfillment, a blind encouragement to recognize the inter-connectedness between us all. Better yet, it drives us toward an understanding of “walking” in the moment.  See Rebecca Solni – Wanderlust: A History ofWalking.  For AE. 

Oh, by the bye, it’s also the Feast Day for St. Francis of Assisi!

Psalm Prayer (Oct. 4th Vespers): Lord Jesus Christ, you have prepared a quiet place for us in your Father’s eternal home. Watch over our welfare on this perilous journey, shade us from the burning heat of day, and keep our lives free of evil until the end. 


Pending Federal Government budget deal.

Addendum: I'm sure glad that I spent all of those preparatory hours watching old 70's Calf crime drama on force-fed METV. I understand the west coast culture so better now... whatever. Still, Rockford Files had a slight edge over Cannon and I'm rockin in a Ford Focus at the moment.

Friday, September 20, 2013

For RM

You used to drift off while sitting in that cherished yet faded rocking chair. All white and born. I recognized the glow – that deep, meditative glance so characteristic of your kin. The stare outside, the Eyes focused on the peculiarities of each gifted oak leaf despite the grainy, rustic veil of Rusco window.  I imagined you dreamt about beauty and decay; the border between whispered wind and endless farm labor. You called it the days of spoiled and trouble.

I accept that empty chair now, its stillness nestled in the curved alcove of your widowed bedroom. I smile to myself remembering your pale and weathered face – a roadmap sketched with wrinkled depth.  A few spider webs near each eye.

Crickets, crick, crickety crick, the gentle rock of chair.
Crickets, crick, per-snickity, snit, the gentle rock of despair.

The rock and pace.

In these occupied evenings of banking and bottom line, I think about your way. Praise and disappointment. Never tell.
I'll sleep instead, dream of electricity pulsing through livestock and the precise moments when the cock will crow,
like a runaway train without a whistle
a ship sail without a compass
a black whale approaching its birthing ground all sensitive and quiet,
intensely quiet