Tristan's Blog

I do not see any rain. I'm not sure I understand the condensation on my window. I  am broken and I know it.                        Tristan, Fall 2019

A girl brought me kiwi and a T shirt from Hawaii My first taste          I liked it. At the park we kissed and other things               My first taste             I liked it. I lost the T shirt and  the girl            I did not look hard for either. I wish I knew where they both were now                                I miss it.             Tristan  Fall 2019

Early my eyes to a day just fawning where the tide has encroached high and the fogs hang low. Where the cries of gulls intrude upon the gentle bellow of the sea and a suggestion of salt last on my tongue. ---- a swollen sadness is here as well --- I am numb in thought to what has been lost.  Now that spring has come, do the tender sprouts of my conscience show? ---I feel a bit empty ---- Attempting to gather myself, I scouted the shorelines once pathed in perfect spring.  Foolishly I looked to see if they were still there, foolishly. ---Am I tormenting myself? Her words were well liter formidable opponent to any resistance I may have had; I had none. She blew into me like a summer breeze, like she was summer tea, sweet and effortless.  She left even easier. ---lies burn seconds into the truth. Her heart was as big as a castle and twice as empty.  I misjudged her luxuries, thinking they would be enough to sustain happiness. ---Deceived by false-h...

You can't catch a fish with your back to the river, so we face our challenges and obstacles head on. it is at this moment where a kindred spirit is born, a spirit between mankind and the Chinook salmon. All existence gather here, beginning our Journey in the river of life. The Journey is not easy and is full of snags and boulders. Sometimes the way is so treacherous, fear overwhelms our navigation. We, like the Chinook salmon, rely upon our spirit, a spirit always pushing, always driving, achieving our pursuits and never giving up. When we arrive at our Final destination,  We shudder in our last breath But there is life in death. Some say we give all in our passing, but a spirit is carried with us and is only shared, and is continuous in its giving. Where we began, we will end. We will not stop giving, and the River Spirit will always be giving, too.

Where will you place it this time There isn't much space on my skin that hasn't been marked by your fury Eve less room remains on my heart for another scar Your eyes are wild with hate Unprovoked anger spins from your tongue My eyes are blank and tearless They've run themselves dry I feel unworthy so I stay Expecting, accepting another blow Your soul is black For some unknown reason Something has hurt you So hurt me Hurt hung onto too long manifests itself into anger You try to transfer it to me but it still resides in you So where will you place it this time When my skin has turned to ash....               ---Tristan, Summer, 2017

Under my tears I lay in wait again To be torn apart From illusionary friends. The heaviness of this Has dropped me on scuffed knees The rawness burns. I'd lift my head to see a way But the blows have left me shrinking. The pain drips constantly But not enough to drown Just enough to push the salt deeper. Under my tears I want to scream to extinguish the noises Why so many unfamiliar voices. Oh the sea of torment Is on me now Pulling me further from tranquility. Servility has manacled my ankles No utterance away from this absolution Close my breath Then close my eyes.                --Tristan, February, 2013

Eyes out my back window      Lost in thought      Ankle fog      Low rumbling tide      Shifting sand Precarious anchored sea grass. Winds whistle on salted weather      Vacant deck       Adirondack chairs       Grey scabbed       Two empty glasses       Prone wine bottle Grape stained pool from drips. Busy myself with the start of the day       Grinding beans       Pressed coffee       Aroma filled air       Startling noise       Ahah coffee for two perhaps. Holding my breath before turning around       Mussed hair       Sleepy cuteness       My old tee shirt       Eyes downcast       Coffee good mornings What did we do smiles exchanged. Out the w...