The weather is calm now, but cold and frosty. Not too long ago a big earthquake hit, and rocked the prison. The earthquake was centered along the Central Coast of California, but felt like a titanic tidal wave over most of the state.
We were getting ready to come off lockdown – dressed and ready to go to the yard. I lay on my bunk as the cell block shook. I looked at the walls, my pictures of birds and nature scenes from Sweden.
I am on the bottom metal bunk with a top metal bunk above my head. I suppose the people who built these cell blocks made them earthquake cook and they will not fall over like a house of cards.
I rode the quake out like a seaman in rough seas. If I still smoked, I would have lit a cigarette and sipped some rum. The building moved for at least 15 seconds.
The gun tower woman had begun to release us to the yard, and she said on the speaker, “We have an earthquake, gentlemen.” After Mother Earth stopped swaying and dancing, the gun tower warder spoke again, “All prisoners must return to their cells.”
The prison mail room is not processing the incoming mail much. It’s after January 15, 2004, as I write this, and I have gotten no mail sent to me from this new year. Mail is weeks behind and in some cases months. The letters I am getting are posted from December 15-24. When you send letters, you cannot put any stickers or glitter, only put pages with words. There must also be a return address on the envelope.
Legal Stuff
I have been incarcerated long enough now to petition the courts, prison board and governor for a pardon and commutation of sentence of life in prison. However I am not a lawyer and I don’t want to mess any chance I may get for a commutation of my life sentence. I have no funds for a lawyer, but I am hoping an attorney will contact me and assist in creating a commutation/pardon petition. Hopefully, such a petition will not take much money or time. Any legal help would be endlessly appreciated.
Writing Class
The weather has played a big part in our not meeting last week. We have our meetings outside, and the fog and cold did not allow it to happen last week. The week before that, we met and read some poetry from different poets – Etheridge Knight, Neruda, and I quoted some Shakespeare, and a guy read some of his new poems.
We spoke of the PEN prison writing contest and of New York. Both guys in class entered that contest. We have not done any writing lessons in awhile, just speaking about and reading our own texts.
A potential new member spoke to me yesterday, asking about the writing class, and I told the new cat we meet on Saturdays at 1 PM in the corner of the work out pit. We shall see if he shows up. Everyone in class is still self-motivated and reading a lot of poetry books.
I have not written a poem in a long time. Hopefully, some poems and inspiration – or just some texts – will flow from me no matter the reason or source. I am not accustomed to any writer’s block. I remember times of not missing a beat – bouncing from poems to prose, from fiction to non-fiction. I know that writing prose and poems is boundless, no limits. There is always so much inside and outside of myself to share.
Bird Stuff
As the sun rises, though still foggy, I watch the sparrows and black birds eat some of the food the cats left behind.
I am at the door of the kitchen, overlooking the cat feeding spot. The fog is thick and misty. When I do my cat call, none of them show up, although the cats had been there eating before the fog thickened.
I do my bird call, still behind the kitchen door. Sparrows and black birds fly towards the window – stopping and landing on the black top and on the curb across from the chow hall. They look at me. The birds are especially bouncy in the mornings, dancing in and out of the heaviest fog.
Closing Thoughts
What’s up to Kristen, my little brother from Sweden, the first member of the Peace Gang. I forgot to put your name in last newsletter when I spoke of you. May everyone’s new year continue to be packed with realness, peace and love.
Spoon
