Diary New Folsom May 10

My heart is still aching from hearing about my second mum in Sweden health problems, how heavy they are. Then my brother Marty left the yard and is gone from art room. So a heavy day and week.
Hard to get up these past few mornings. I went to bed early last night. Managed to sleep until 4:00 am. I got in my core work and hope to run the track today. I hope the yard don't go down with a fight or gun shots and tear gas. I'm feeling a bit stiff this morning from my run yesterday.
We have the R&B band this morning. There are singers, but only one musician, a bass player. We will see how it goes because they are changing this prison over for the worse. The rock and country bands are gone. The only true band we have left is the blues band when outside guests come in to gig. Perhaps it's fitting to have only the blues left at this time. Looking at Mother Earth theater, there is no breeze this morning. I see the weeds, wild flowers, tall grasses, the boulder tree and some tall flowered plants I can barely see the yellow colors of. I wonder what kind of plants they are. They all are engaging in the morning's warm up. I'm waiting to see what creature appears first. Probably the gobbler turkey parade. Yes, there goes the first turkey as I write this. There are also a couple of red-breasted finches on  the chain linked fence. One show boating turkey strolling down the outside prison dirt road, thinks he has the right way even when a truck's coming.

Back in the cave and the R&B group went well, a lot of bickering, but they did work on three songs, original songs. One of the songs inspired me to pick up my native flute and play jazz/blues style along with them. The group was shocked and didn't know I played that well and get with their flow. They wanted me to continue to play with them. I got in a nice jog today too before work. For three of my lapses around the track I ran with and talked with a young gangster and asked him how his studies for GED was going. He said he achieved his goal and received his GED. Now he wants to get his points down to go to a lower level prison and achieve visits from his family. Sounds real to me.


Diary New Folsom May 9

Sitting here looking out on Mother Earth's stage, my little window. I ponder something brilliant to say and I have nothing. I figure that's okay. So, I just say good morning Mother Earth. I have my poetry class today. I'll see what it brings.
Day's done and I wrote prompts on the board and handed out art pictures to inspire poetry as well. Then I had my students read what they wanted. I have a couple of students too stuck on being a gangster to take poetry class seriously and only see it as a means to get out of the cell. That's okay for a while, but I want people in my class to share their realness and I do my best to put forth things they can gain inspiration from and perhaps inspire them to walk in their own shoes. They will not be in my class forever, especially if they're not writing.
I had to go herd the Gosling Five back over to the small yard from the big yard that was crowded with prisoners, guards and free staff. People still stare at me puzzled as to how I get the geese family to walk through both gates enclosed in a corridor to the small yard. People look in awe and call me the Goose Whisperer. I pay no mind to that. I believe the Gosling Five will fly away next week.


Diary New Folsom May 8

Window theater in opened. Yes, I can see nature from the cell window, from there I see Mother Earth in all her splendor. It is my natural stage along with my gosling meditation. The theater window allow my spirit and heart to be in awe and part of the wonder. The clouds are back again, filling the sky and making the morning warm.
Realness people, please send healing love, thoughts and vibes to my second mum Barbro in Sweden. I'm still doing these daily prison logs until my spirit tells me to move on. I hope you are getting some insights into prison life, however boring and static it can be. I'm sitting here waiting for work, and it should be easy to get out of the cell this morning. I have my prose class today. Before class I'll commune with the Gosling Five and sit outside the art room and play my native flute along with The Isley Brothers' ”Beautiful Ballads”.
Yesterday Ken had his blues day in the art room with three visiting musicians.  They played most of Ken's blues songs. There was a violin player and two guitar players, Kelly from Grass Valley, Kari and Tom from the Bay area. It was a good day for old Ken.
Day's over and I'm back in the cage. I showed a video of another poet/writer Louis Rodriguez, in my poetry class as an example of how one must explore and share one's own experiences through poetry and prose. The universal is personal. Share your own journey, your own life and others will be able to step into your path and gain some enlightenment on their own journey, their own deepest light and darkness. That undiscovered land is inside us. We go there and bring back realness.