Young boys play soccer, Blue versus White, diligently coached by a couple dads, who shout imperatives from either sideline. Boys on the sideline discuss the blood dripping out on one of their shirts. The dad-coach jokes that it looks like a tie dye. Then the boys discuss laundry detergent.

Sonus Locus - Tie Dye with Blood

There's no telling why the sea lions moved in one day decades ago. But in true San Francisco style the establishment decided to let them stay, in an amazing acknowledgement that humans cannot claim total sovereignty over all that we may touch. The sea lions speak for themselves. Take a listen.

Sonus Locus: Pier Lions

Pronouncements of the visionaries echo off buildings, as a roller suitcase rumbles by. The Tesla time machine enters like a bomb dropping. He’s come from the future and he’s got it. Fatigued bus brakes squeal incessantly. A hard shoed business woman in a pants suit clomps by. All your dreams accessible via APIs.

http://sonuslocus.analogsoul.io/2013/11/25/131119_0065/

Sonus Locus: Keynote

Gray walls and diffuse sunlight close in on the forsaken. Doors clang shut in precise sequence. The patented mechanism ensured that guards had as little contact as possible with the most dangerous among us. Tourists float hither and yon digesting lunch in freedom. Like almost all escape attempts, the native occupation ultimately failed except for the mind virus they left behind, which centuries later defeated all the island's defenses.

http://sonuslocus.analogsoul.io/2013/12/02/131108_0055
https://facebook.com/sonuslocus

Sonus Locus: Doors of Alcatraz

Walking through life with the greatest of care for every being, upholding the light and illuminating the darkness, a poet deftly teases verse on a manual typewriter, a lone musician captures our possibilities and our brokenness with poise and sensitivity. Conversations wiz by. Chipper children giggle. Life goes on. All is as it should be.

http://sonuslocus.analogsoul.io/2013/12/12/20131212_0092
https://facebook.com/sonuslocus

Sonus Locus: Hallelujah

The electric motor whirs, propelling us down St. Charles. The air compressor knocks pressure into the brake system. We happen upon a semi-truck that has taken a turn too tight off a side street and wedged itself under a tree on the corner. A local woman opens the window and chides the driver. It's all in good fun; they begin joking with each other through the window. Laughter. Big smiles and sunshine. The streetcar presses on through the Big Easy.

http://sonuslocus.analogsoul.io/2013/12/29/131210_0083
https://facebook.com/sonuslocus

Sonus Locus: Streetcar

We glimpsed the totality 
and learned to transcribe it. 
Ever on the path of shaping and molding, 
building a new understanding 
while balanced on the rails of the moment. 
Breathing through ages into fires of priorities. 
Back then cooling off now, 
evermore bouncing on the moss, 
sundapled, maple-printed 
and cooly damp with the summer humid.

Antennae

All attention on the throng at the starting line. The man with the bullhorn announces the start of the race, ON YOUR MARK! The siren sounds and a cheer goes up. Dropkick Murphys blare over the PA as the crowd mills about in the shivering St. Patrick's weekend cold.

(Contains "I'm Shipping Up To Boston" by Dropkick Murphys.)

http://sonuslocus.analogsoul.io/2014/03/16/on-your-mark

Sonus Locus: On Your Mark

Wetlands come alive in early spring dusk with the call of a tiny frog, the spring peeper. The male calls incessantly for a mate. It is possible, with concentration, to pick out individual calls of unique character. Beavers glide effortlessly and silently across the shallows, diving in to enter their lodge. The mosquitoes have mercifully not yet appeared. With eyes closed it is a perfect, relaxing cacophony.

http://sonuslocus.analogsoul.io/2014/04/14/140412_0128/
https://facebook.com/SonusLocus

Analog Soul

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