Climbing to the Clouds by Sam Flot

Climbing to the Clouds

Walking or waking?

What is all this knowledge for or from?

Where will the path astray lead me?

To the hill or the mountain with no top?

To that forest which begins but is never ending?

Uncertainty rests on my shoulder

Whispering

“Clarity is no where near”

I know for certain

My learning is not yet finished and

Never will be

So I gather my strength to continue

From the blubird sunning his wings on the grass

As I continue climbing to the clouds

flot

4.28.13

Mingus Never Played Marin? ..............by Sam Flot 2013

Mingus Never Played Marin?

“Mingus?  Never?

Mingus never played Marin?”

“No, sir, what I said was

Mingus never played the Forestville Social Club

I don’t know about never in Marin

Mingus never played the Odd Fellows

I know that and

I also know for a fact he never played the Forestville Social Club

Although he well could have

With a pre-born license redemptive

To fill spaces with compositional eloquence

Flat straight like a line shot line or

Straight in one fluid motion

Straight into the sky and

When did anyone ever ask for

a cabaret license in Forestville anyway?

It’s their loss....

He never cradled his bass

Starting out ready to play anything translucently

With class and panache to spare”

“Mingus never played Novato?

He never played Bolinas or Lagunitas or Muir Beach?

Mingus never played Marinwood or 4^th St. San Rafael?

Mingus never played Marin?”  

"Now, like I told you I don’t know about that

All I know is Mingus never played Forestville

No waterfalling horns leading down a path

All the musicians working together

A drummer spilling rhythm

Flowing into overflowing

Bird calling

Bird answering

He hit everything

He couldn’t miss

He hit everything but Forestville

He never didn’t get a drink from the owners

He never tackled that lack with a smile and a swear

With or without two pulls

On a bottle in a bag

Then back to the bass

Either way

Mingus never played the Forestville Social Club

Mingus never played the Odd Fellows either and

Just like everybody knows

There ain’t but two joints in the whole town

Then you burned right through it”

flot

3.29.13

Inspired by James Whiton's wit

years before this was finally written

60 Little Elves by Sam Flot

60 Little Elves 

(2013)

Inside this thin minute

Framed by contextual fractals

Illusions are becoming alive and actual

Despite the unheard of factions

Not intending to trick me

Breaking it down from one to sixty

Each second considered it’s own self

A part of the whole set up on the shelf

Tectonic plates are shifting all around

Inside this rock never taken for granite

Outside this wind is blowing both ways

Fluctuating factors fake or factual?

Laying it all out in continuous fashion

Telling the story sequentially this time

Still as surreal as it gets

Using fiction or facts

60 Little Elves 

On one little shelf

Collected like seconds inside the infinite

One elf for each moment

Inside this thin minute

Rocking my world

Never taken from granite

flot                           2.25.13                        CFR