A Creation Myth

(In honor of Venice-of-America’s 109th Birthday)

In a time that was,
(And in a time that was not)

Abbot Kinney hid in a bin on a dock
To safeguard his life
From Turks bayoneting any infidel found
Oh, how the blood of Christians
Spilled onto the dock that day
A carmine blood delta flowing to the sea.

And Abbot Kinney knew his life was over
But it was not, it was not….
Destiny had other plans for Abbot Kinney
He escaped
And procured a small boat to sail toAfrica
With only his life
With only HIS life!
And Abbot Kinney now Knew
Oh, the preciousness of life!!
Not only his, but all life
The mighty as well as the weak….

That was the day Abbot Kinney’s soul
Made a stringent vow to never trivialize
The significance of his own life
With mundane endeavors of any kind
And his heart heard…and knew the truth of it
And his intellect heard and knew the truth of it
And thus sanity was born in Abbot Kinney
And Abbot Kinney returned from Africa
An integrated man, enveloped within his own intuition…


Young Abbot

Fast forward to another lifetime in OceanPark
A partner dies, a partner buys
The usual arguments of money and greed emerging
Abbot Kinney calls a meeting of the partners
To trade all of his holdings in their developments
For a mosquito swamp to the south
A sump already deemed
By experts as unsuitable for habitation

The investors gleed in their greed
Oh, the wily Kinney has finally gone mad, he’s mad!
Wind-fallen prosperity they nabbed with avarice
And signed the papers oh so quickly
Deeding the marshland to Kinney
Before the asylum came to claim
The insane Kinney and drag him away.

man hunting with dogs

But Abbot Kinney had walked those bogs
And marshlands to the south
He had felt an energy harbored there
Oh, yes, we still sing the song of those spirits
In Venice to this very day! Nothing to be done with marshes, but canals

And so it was on the first day of dredge

As steel blades of chuffing bulldozers
Pushed dank Cambrian ooze to formulate banks
Abbot Kinney saw faint illuminations of vapor
From the foaming primordial mud
An interred Goddess emerged


The workmen saw the apparition not
But it was The Goddess Venus
Come to ply Abbot Kinney with visions
Golden tresses bewitched by the
Breaths of her attendant deities and fairy folk

And then Venus began her songs of creation
In altered states of melodic harmonies
Goddess songs of cities ancient and mythical
She sang of past golden cities of magic and light
To enchant Abbot Kinney with the land in his keeping
And ply his mind with visions of a creation
And its significance to the Earth and to the World

Abbot Kinney, smitten, changed the name of the city
To Venice to honor the Goddess VenusAnd her Aura…..
Venice — a place of learning and enlightenment
Venice — a haven of harmony and inspiration for artists
Venice – a perfumed sensory experience
Venice – where transformation is guided by Muses

And Abbot Kinney continued in his creation of a city that
Venus sang as revelation to him

A city that he fiercely loved with all of his heart
A city he gave to the world for all time

The Original Lagoon

That city is called Venice

Published in the Free Venice Beachhead JULY, 2014

A Creation Myth



Spring in Venice


Ahhh! Spring in Venice
The fragrance of jasmine perfumery
The Venice Art Walk
The return of tourists…..

But for me the spring atmosphere
Wrenches jagged with
The cries of desolation and despair
Only the hungry Baby Mockingbird can manifest

Sensitized I am to their calls
For I have raised two to flying
Amelia and Beauregard
Gobs of blue-veined plasm flesh
But when grounded, a sorry plight indeed

Baby Mockingbirds fall
Insistent to fly before they even have feathers
Impatient to get on with IT!
Disobedient, adament

Unfortunately prowling Enemies
Of teeth and of claw
Hunt, always alert for opportunity
Those crows, hawks, cats, raccoons

Whadda ya think?
Baby Mockingbirds should become
Venice’s official city bird:

Composed of the disobedient citizenry

Haunted by prowling Midases
With cash to gobble her up.


“There’s a Hole in My Sidewalk”

One of my favorites. Wayne Dyer agrees..”I love There’s a Hole in My sidewalk.
Portia Nelson shows us a clear path to change through self discovery.”

Autobiography in Five Short Chapters
Portia Nelson

Portia Nelson photo


Chapter I

I walk down the street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I fall in.
I am lost…
I am helpless.
It is not my fault.
It takes forever to find my way out.

Chapter II

I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I pretend I don’t see it.
I fall in.
I can’t believe I am in the same place.
But it isn’t my fault.
It still takes a long time to get out.

Chapter III

I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I see it there.
I still fall in…It’s a habit.
My eyes are open.
I know where I am.
It is my fault.
I get out immediately.

Chapter IV

I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I walk around it.

Chapter V

I walk down another street.


 There’s a Hole in My Sidewalk
              Copyright 1993, Portia Nelson
Simon & Schuster

Portia book cover new