The Burning Man

I’ve seen a lord, a mighty savior,
A calm in times of loss
Heaved up by white-hooded dragons
Upon a burning cross

These fire breathers reveled – danced
Used epithets to bless
All the while implored the burning
“How good doth smell your flesh?”

His tongue now dull – depressed of breath
Sat languid in his mouth
And for his silence all did take
A serpent’s solemn vow

And they bore sons and they bore suns
Who claimed the burning man
Their patron, lover, savior, lord
Must revel in their sin

Yet, high in heaven, his heart weak
He wept cool pools of tears
For ev’ry cross burned in his name,
He’d suffer a thousand years.

This is Fukushima

I wanted to take a moment from my silliness to help an individual I met when I first arrived in Fukushima.  His name is Cameron Anderson and he is trying to fund the completion of his movie about the real Fukushima; the Fukushima that we live everyday.  This is a place of great beauty, hardy spirits, and, yes, great tragedy.  However, this area needs everybody’s support.

The disaster is very real, seemingly omnipresent in our daily lives.  From the nightly radiation readings on the news to the refugee camp a little north in my new hometown, we are very aware of what happened and where we live.  This is not something residents take lightly here.  However, if you wade through the hyperbole and fear and misinformation, you will see a beautiful place so different from the nuclear hellscapes  you read about in some news stories.

Please help this film help the people of Fukushima to add their voice to the conversation.

The people in the promo are real.  They’re people I’ve met.  They’re my friends and community. They are people very fond of this beautiful land and are doing what they can to aid in its recovery.  I ask a pittance of viewing this 2 minute video, sharing it your friends, and voting for Cameron to finish his movie.

がんばれ福島!!!

 

There is so much more to Fukushima than the disaster.

Vote/support here:

http://www.storyhive.com/project/show/id/86

Variations on an Epistle

Is there a home for the wayward traveler ?
for the weary minded rambler?
for the mosquito-bitten, flea-ridden Magellan?
who seeks a piece in this world
peaceful and pleasant?

Where a talent for tongues curries real salvation
and the tasting of wine – grander than occupation
Where one saddles next to one – intimate and naked,
tasting the other his fruit, free in libation
and devour – entwine – the history of a million mothers
with a mouthful of her flavours,
refined in her daughters.

Where life gives lay to the daedal hues of night
Where ferment and fragrance foments forward delight
Where Jove’s blood brings blessings in dark, deep reds
Whereupon flowers find fertile favour with Nysiads

Where all pipe the tune – ‘tween the lips, we whistle
“Pistol to pistol; petal to petal;
Pistol to petal and petal to pistol”
Writes every traveler
- variations on an epistle -