The colorful California complexity of geologies juxtaposed

And plants: the manzanitas and smelly salvias in the sandstone pillows

On one side of the mountains and groves of oaks and bays, shooting star lilies buttercups

A Variety of ferns predating everything and grasses come lately fields and fields of them

All a mix betrays the sandwich of many pasts pressed together, and the flowers growing

In harmony but were not always so neighbored.

So the story of my own passage through time can be denoted and connoted by words

Complexed with a few simple sentences. I am the geology…..

In Portland Manuel hospital on the Willamette River January during the Tillamook forest fire

Covering the city with smoke I was popped in 1942 a nine pound nine ounce baby in World War II.

I grew up 1219 NE Skidmore a small house so we could not keep a Great Dane I brought home

Since he occupied whole dining room, and the backyard through small had a walnut tree

Dropping and abundance of nuts mother used in cookies. She was experimental good cook.

My attendance at public and private schools means I spell improperly

And such serendipity may account for my eccentricities.

I am not what I think. I am not what I do. I am not; I think

Did return hometown after living in Seattle, San Antonia, Belgium, Italy, Tacoma and Shreveport.

Professors and students at Oregon Science Center exposed me to science experimentation.

The science of rats, goats, fluids blue to red and fleshy specimens.

The while working at science center I studied at Portland State and made pottery for five years.

At thirty three realized school is for an unemployment problem so quit and bought house.

Home a seen year project shown on NBC television Faces and Places. Cost me 12,000 dollars.

I spent weekends climbing volcanoes and traversing ice fields. On Mount Saint Helens when it erupted.

A familiar said I should move to San Francisco for fame and fortune. He lied.

The Oregonian does not change things until worn out; Californians do not wait so long.