Saturday, December 13, 2008


This autumn I won't be spending with ghosts
I won't be dancing with faces that have faded
the golds and reds of this season will fall
and be a prelude to the light of what I'll find
when these lids lift and the warm glow of you
touches my face, I'll know it is time to wake

11 December 2008

Friday, September 19, 2008


the space within his gaze
will be filled with a presence
that for now is only carried
in the organ beneath his ribs

Thursday, August 21, 2008


Tata Chau & Tonton Chau

Yesterday I received news from one of my cousins in France informing me that her father, my uncle had died the night before. He had been fighting an illness for a long time. His pain has ended finally.

We only brief periods of time together but over the years, I stayed in contact and felt a closeness to him because he and my father were like brothers and much of what I knew about my father came through him. (My father died a week before I was born).

I wish I could pour out some beautiful verses for him now but I can't. Perhaps it is still early, too soon. Maybe I'm in shock but don't realize it though I knew this day would come. Maybe it is because I've been wanting to visit him these last two years but couldn't. Maybe I was meant to not see him in a state of pain and remember him as I saw him last: Boyant at heart, funny and wise...

Friday, May 30, 2008

Two shades too light

two shades too light
He pours tea
Into pale porcelain
The green of sencha
Is two shades too light
So more leaves fall
Into the pot
So he can match
The hue of her eyes

28 May 2008

Thursday, May 22, 2008


The distance is the distance
And the time is a wait
The time is a fuse between
Two preternatural embers
So the distance becomes a touch
The distance becomes closeness
And the time becomes singularity
The fuse becomes fusion

19 May 2008

Hot Sand

Outside, the sun wants to cast
My shadow to the east
My skin is heated and seared
Like images branded into memory

I step inside to a sheltering shade
It is like waking from sleep
And finding her image, the way
She looks from her gilded frame

My skin still feels like hot sand
But it's not from rays of Summer

15 May 2008

Out of the Corner

Out of the corner of my eyes
I always think there is an emerald
Glittering in the midday sun
Out of the reach of my ears
I always think I hear a voice;
A bird of paradise in a tree
So I keep my senses vigilant
But when a breeze brings that scent
I know my favorite muse is near

13 May 2008

Monday, May 12, 2008

What would we have

A found poem:

What would we have to

hold in compassion

to be at peace right now?

What would we have to

let go of

to be at peace right now?

--Jack Kornfield

Sunday, May 04, 2008

If You Must Know

If you must know
I was thinking of her
The sun was setting
Sky turning into violet
And vermillion
Outside my window
And I looked
For the shades of green
That I know are in her eyes
If you must know
I was thinking of the distance
That separates us
And the closeness
In the words that we utter
And of how the deep ocean
Resembles our connection

(23 April 2008)

Saturday, April 26, 2008

Found wisdom

Karma Is Not Fixed Destiny
Karma is often wrongly confused with the notion of a fixed destiny. It is more like an accumulation of tendencies that can lock us into particular behavior patterns, which themselves result in further accumulations of tendencies of a similar nature.... But it is not necessary to be a prisoner of old karma....Here's how mindfulness changes karma. When you sit, you are not allowing your impulses to translate into action. For the time being, at least, you are just watching them. Looking at them, you quickly see that all impulses in the mind arise and pass away, that they have a life of their own, that they are not you but just thinking, and that you do not have to be ruled by them. Not feeding or reacting to impulses, you come to understand their nature as thoughts directly. This process actually burns up destructive impulses in the fires of concentration and equanimity and non-doing. At the same time, creative insights and creative impulses are no longer squeezed out so much by the more turbulent, destructive ones. They are nourished as they are perceived and held in awareness.--Jon Kabat-Zinn, Wherever You Go, There You Are

Monday, April 21, 2008

New Line

I thought of: "Just because I read an article in NG on vaqueros doesn't mean I want a drink of tequila."

Now I have to think of a story around this...

Wednesday, April 16, 2008



Due to popular demand to purchase my work, I have finally set up an Etsy storefront! So please have a visit here or just search for the seller name equusignis and it will get you there.

Sunday, April 13, 2008


if i can't hold you in my thoughts
then let this be all a dream
at the edge of wakefulness
let the glimmering images
of your smile be a phantom
in my imperfect memory
let it all pass like a handful of snow
melting through loose fingers
from your body heat and
i can be on my way down the path
between bare birches
their white bark reminding me
of your skin and once the shadows
have engulfed me wait for sixteen heartbeats
before you light the beacon
that will guide my frail steps
home to where you wait


There came a glow in these dark eyes
Because I thought of you
Even in this early hour
When the robins have yet to sing
Nor the ravens have yet to caw
There came a glow in this muscle
Beneath my ribs because
You visited me in my darkest dreaming
Bringing light I did not know existed
So in these eyes barely light enough
To give you a hue I think of you
And hope that when in your gaze
They will grow brighter and
In one day I won't see you
Merely through a photograph

6 April 2008

Wednesday, April 02, 2008


It is astonishing
That in the cold numbness
Of your feelings
A passing bird

A bird in flight
Across your focus
Could change
The hues of your sunrise

It is astonishing
How your gravity shifts
Because you see a delicate creature
Unbound by the weight of the earth

Fluttering across your vision
Changing all of your dreams
What dreams have come before
What dreams will come after

In the turbulence of pale white wings
You'll never be the same as before
You think that the armor is thick enough
You think that experience

Has built enough cynicism
You think and think and then find that
Your eyes cannot look away
From the one fluttering feather

Passing through the air in the trail
Of the passing dove
In that moment
You find in astonishment

That your world
Your world has forever changed

1 April 2008

Sunday, March 30, 2008


He stares out into the afternoon light
Thinking of her image
With eyes closed mouth parted

And forehead against the cold steel wall
Hands delicate as primary feathers of a swan
With grace in her neck to match

He stared into the image in his mind
And let lose his eyes
To the thoughts of her being

Trying to feel ephemerally
Her mercurial mood
Trying to close the distance

An expanse of continent and ocean
Trying to reach the source of the little fire
That burns beneath his ribs

Like an ember that sleeps for years
Before evolving into a forest fire

30 March 2008

Saturday, March 29, 2008




hoping to


into the wells
of his own


but couldn't see
through mirrors

that kept

at bay

(26 March 2008)

Dream state intuition

Went to sleep very late last night though I slept well and dreamed of faces I have not seen in a long time as well as faces that I have yet to meet. It is strange how over the years of being a lucid dreamer, I have developed certain intuitions that become acute when in the dream state. For example, learning to recognize faces of people that are inconsequential versus people that I would eventually meet. When I first starting doing this years ago, I thought I was just having dèja vu's but upon going back to my journals, I discovered I indeed did dream of these people before I met them. The shortest time frame being exactly one year to the day and in other cases, there are periods of over five years before I met the person or people. How does this work? I stopped trying to figure it out and just record the dreams and go with it. The other sense I have in my dreams is that I always know my cardinal directions, similar to real life. In last night's dream, I was on a coast that ran north to south and the sea was to the east. I don't know where it was, I just know it was on the east coast. At first, I thought it was the west coast but "up the coast" was to my left, this I am sure. Strange as it seemed I lived there and I've not lived anywhere like that since Vietnam and then Scotland. It doesn't surprise me, there is that nomadic streak in me. I just wonder how long it will take before it happens...

Wednesday, March 26, 2008

Contrast & Classicism

Contrast & Classicism
A friend and I have been talking about some of the sci-fi books we read growing up and the cover art that opened the doors to our imaginations and influenced us into becoming designers. I remembered that I had found this in a bin of a waiting room a couple of years ago. It is definitely a classic both as a book and its cover art (which I believe is by John Berkey).

It is funny because in this last week several others have brought up the subject of classic sci-fi books and such. We such a bunch of geeks. I wouldn't have it any other way. :p

Tuesday, March 25, 2008


So I can serve two mistresses

Midnight came too early
Dawn passed without sleep
And dreams did not come

Until birds ceased to sing
And I sit here feeling battered
As if night holds a grudge because

I was recapitulating my day instead
Of listening to her lamentation
Give me a hand or a cup of tea

To warm my touch and soothe my senses
Or give me longer days and nights
So I can two mistresses serve

25 March 2008

Tuesday, March 11, 2008


Morning came sooner than expected and the dreams were late
Venetian blinds held back the light like a veil of the mind
Yet at dawn's close all truth became apparent

Monday, February 25, 2008

In My Dreams

In my dreams
It is a river lake or ocean
But always water
An edge a boundary water
Waiting for me to cross
Leave behind previous lives
Persons faces words touches
That vibrate as photons across cold space
In my dreams heart computer processes
Events situations desires
They leak into waking day
They seep to surface as indelible ink
Designs drawings seals
Sometimes others can read
In my dreams they are composites
No need for realism
They say the same things
Cut the same way carry similar smiles
Two three five persons into one
Efficient because there are only five seconds to draw
A 20 minute two hour six hour film
In my dreams i never walk swim fall drown into water
I move as shorebirds along its edge
Waking up never having
Drank cleansed re-birthed

25 February 2008

Sunday, February 24, 2008


abruptly plummet

lines ascend
abruptly plummet
turn like eagles
in mating dances
slashes dots curls
a thousand bees
ready for forage
rows rows rows
of variant formations
yield at end of pages
what a single image
imprints into memory
of patient observant ones


Saturday, February 23, 2008

Another life

I had a dream last night that I was living the life of a 19th century painter. I didn't know who it was supposed to be. The key details that were vivid were the colors, brush-work style and the fact that he lived next to the sea. The dream took place from the time he met his yet-to-be wife to the time he had two children. There were periods of turmoil which were intense. Now I feel compelled to research...

Friday, February 22, 2008

Weight of Attraction

The weight of attraction

Her branches broke
Under the weight of attraction
But he was; still,
A leathery countenance
Back-staging the luminance
Of her Winter blossoms

Thursday, February 21, 2008

On waking up

To the muffled sounds of the Fox News Network in the other room:


The Scorpion is as black as soot,
He dearly loves to bite;
He is a most unpleasant brute
To find in bed at night.

Hillaire Belloc

Sunday, February 10, 2008

The Kingdom

Tonight I rented the "Kingdom" just thinking of a brainless way to pass the time. I was mistaken. It was too realistic. Being a child of war. It just made me cry and the cold air seeped in.

Friday, February 08, 2008

This Valentine's day won't be like that

This Valentine's day won't be like that
This Valentine

She said this Valentine's day won't be like that
The words create the presence of a ghost refusing to fade
But time ticked by has softened the edges
Of the tiny blades of remembrance from such words
She said there won't be any despair in my bed
It sounded like hope as much as a promise
But it was just another urge created in ether – wishful
Now they feel like old wounds and have new associations
Beneath a sky plenty of yet unacquainted stars

– equusignis

Wednesday, February 06, 2008

It had wispy clouds

It had wispy clouds
Hey Hey Hey

He was staring at the sky
It had wispy clouds
Then the thought came to him
Or was it a memory
She said we are Neruda – I mean a Neruda
It caused a smile and he felt it even though
They had not yet met in person but he could feel
The pixels of her words on screen vibrating
In some unseen place inside of him
He fished out his camera
Uncapped the lens and slid the cover
Into a coat pocket the inside warmth
Felt like the caching of a secret
He clicked at the sky the shutter was percussive
In his head she said hey hey hey
Hey I love you
He lowered the camera
Replaced the lens cap
His hands now cold and a little numb
And turned away from the memory

5 February 2008

Monday, February 04, 2008


Newly found word:

Orthorexia: An unhealthy obsession with healthy eating.

Saturday, February 02, 2008

festoon and globes

festoon or globes
Originally uploaded by equusignis
This morning I spent in the city to attend a focus group. Afterward, I walked around the Union Square area as if it was a beautiful sunny day while almost all of the rest of the people on the streets were scrambling for cover and away from the dense but tiny sprinkles of moisture coming down. In fact, it was dense enough that you could tell that it was coming down at a 45 angle. Later, I came into this café that I have passed by countless times but have never gone in so I went in and ordered a pot of tea and watched the sparse traffic going by. After a while, I realized that I really missed living in the city. That is going to have to change.

Friday, February 01, 2008


A found quote:

"A prose writer gets tired of writing prose, and wants to be a poet. So he begins every line with a capital letter, and keeps on writing prose."

– Samuel McChord Crothers

Monday, January 21, 2008

No shame (needed) plug. Brushes & Petals: A Benefit Show for Children in Vietnam

No shame (needed) plug. Brushes & Petals: A Benefit Show for Children in Vietnam

I am showing a selection of my photos and watercolors this coming weekend in a two person exhibit. The photography will be a combination of photos from last summer and fall as well as of a Ikebana arrangements by my friend Ivy. Part of the proceeds of the show will go to a non-profit called ICAN.

For those of you in the Bay Area, please drop by if you can. It's for a good cause.

Saturday, January 26, 2008: 3pm - 7pm

Friday, 1/25/08: 3pm - 7pm
Saturday, 1/26/08: 10am - 7pm

ICAN is a 501 (c)3 non-profit organization whose mission is to help Vietnamese children realize their potential and become caring and contributing members of their family and community. ICAN's programs aim to create strong family and community networks to support the children as well as provide the children with skills, confidence and opportunities to succeed in life.

For more information, please visit


found quote:

"Tragedy is when I cut my finger. Comedy is when you fall into an open sewer and die."–Mel Brooks

Monday, January 07, 2008

We are like sculptors...

found quote:

"We are like sculptors, constantly carving out of others the image we long for, need, love or desire, often against reality, against their benefit, and always, in the end, a disappointment, because it does not fit them."

Anaïs Nin

Shadows (of things that get overlooked)

Today seemed overly productive, for a while there, so I decided by mid-afternoon it was time to stretch my legs with a photowalk outside. The sky was clear and cold so I walked. Oddly, I walked and walked and even got on a bus and I was uninspired to take a photo of anything. Not good. I boarded a bus and headed to a local bookstore. It was depressing. It looked like it was trying to regain itself from the Holiday rush. I considered seeing a movie but that seemed contradictory to my getting out of the house.

It was not until I was almost home that I started to click the shutter. It seemed odd because they were at places where I saw almost everyday and found a couple of new things. So...


And when I looked at the photo, this came to me:

Shadows as veins
Reveal past damage
Shadows as lines
Reveal ages past

January 7, 2008

Sunday, January 06, 2008

Six of Swords

Six of Swords

"...the Six of Swords shows the necessity to take a look at where you've been and where you're going. This mental clarity will also serve to smooth the way ahead, and make the passage from negative to positive as peaceful as possible. Though the waters behind are choppy, there are no rough seas ahead to slow your progress...Instead of ruling the emotions, the Six of Swords actually offers a highly controlled balance of logic and intuition. This is how true mental clarity arises; you can use your intuition to guide you through easy situations and call upon your impartial and analytical nature when it is needed for a more complex decision. Do not seek to suppress your emotions any more than a sea captain would want to eliminate the water. Rather, respect their presence and their power in your life, and use them to your advantage. When a balance between head and heart is achieved, truly great things can be accomplished."

–James Rioux from

Friday, January 04, 2008

The Pond

It has rained all day today. Feeling nolstagic, I donned my coat and grabbed my camera and went for a walk, half-heartedly wishing that my walk was taking place in another continent, in another place. The sky reminded me of winter days in La Tour-de-Peilz or Dundee. When I think of these places and all the moments of laughter I had there I find a bittersweet flavor in the core of my heart. Constantly we compare the moment of now in some sort of dissonance and look back to other times when we laugh as a matter of natural response, not a practiced effort. Still, I did find some kind of little joy in my steps today, listening to the rain drops pelting my hood even with earbuds in and listening to the moment's soundtrack from my iPod nano and feeling the swing and thump of my camera hanging around my neck and tucked in under my coat.

I managed to get a couple of photos without destroying my camera in the downpour...then when I came home, I found the poem.

I want to touch you, but do not

The Pond

Night covers the pond with its wing.
Under the ringed moon I can make out
your face swimming among minnows and the small
echoing stars. In the night air
the surface of the pond is metal.

Within, your eyes are open. They contain
a memory I recognize, as though
we had been children together. Our ponies
grazed on the hill, they were gray
with white markings. Now they graze
with the dead who wait
like children under their granite breastplates,
lucid and helpless:

The hills are far away. They rise up
blacker than childhood.
What do you think of, lying so quietly
by the water? When you look that way I want
to touch you, but do not, seeing
as in another life we were of the same blood.

Lousie Glück



today's acquisition.

over the years, i've had the opportunity to work in manhattan, staying there just long enough each time to enjoy all the good and great things a huge metropolis has to offer but never staying long enough for the city to get under my skin and leave its bitterness. i remember coming across a review of this book a while ago and when i saw it on the shelf of a dollar store today, there was no question.

Thursday, January 03, 2008


they were like two halves of a missing sculpture like two halves of a perfect pear cloven and that was their story before they even knew it beyond distance they could trade words their thoughts meshed like the sea met the sky on a misty day as time passed they didn't know where one ended and the other started and they had this crazy idea that that was how their lives were going to unfold, like a piece of endless, elegant origami unfolding and with each leaf and crease undone there were to be art and love escaping from the thin recesses of their mingled lives and then the burr came it was not new it had been displayed or mentioned or talked about but it was not full so when it came it killed all they had together like a plague like a black death as if they were a continent of humans they all died he lied or he didn't lie he lived his own lie in his life so it was the truth so it came out as a lie even if he didn't want to lie there was the terrible fright there was the terrible fright of losing the only one he had met after all the years who was an equal there was the terrible feeling of wanting to tell yet it receded into the empty part of his soul where he thought it would not come out but it did and it did and it was horrible it was the crystal castle coming down, weighed with such darkness, it was like all the feathers of a thousand doves turning to lead and falling on the earth, falling on the earth when the earth is made of glass and everything broke apart and violently flew in all directions and it was the beginning of the end and it was the beginning of a new beginning and so he patiently, now, watches the sun and lets it set beyond the horizon and in the darkness he sees things and thoughts and emotions and realities that were too subtle for the bright light of day and his heart begins to calm knowing that it did not matter what he knew but it was about what he might see

i could not sleep in these hours before dawn

so i wandered and found this...

Wednesday, January 02, 2008


catching up on a moment

Some years ago, an old friend sent me a letter and she said I was her Demian. I had no idea what she was talking about. Recently, someone told me that was a very high compliment. So today, I went out and bought a copy. It's been some 16 years since that letter so it is high time I figure out what she was trying to tell me...

Tuesday, January 01, 2008

Happy Birthday Papa

For a moment this morning when I drifted from sleep to wakefulness, I thought what it might have been if you were still here on this earth. I thought how it would feel as an adult to have a close connection with my father. Thoughts as these give rise to ideas that make me feel that I should be a writer full time. That may happen yet...

Meanwhile, happy birthday papa.