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Ailinn
Windchimer

1830 Posts

Posted - 10/27/2005 :  19:10:25  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
"...two tin cans and a thousand miles of string..." he says, passing up the fresh green beans and the cornucopia-displayed squash. The sun sets peering over his shoulder at the Braided Pepper Produce Stand. Where they've landed off El Camino Real. The fresco moon rises over Batiquitos Lagoon. "More pixels," he says, able to see the big picture, "most recipes will be served with a tuning fork and a fire extinguisher."
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2703 Posts

Posted - 10/28/2005 :  16:15:17  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply


The cute Vietnamese girl at the counter
in the Chinese takeout place
Had three Bic pens stuck in the back
Of her hair...
When the phone rang she turned away
From me to her right
Answered the phone
Took the order and
Came back to me with
A smile...
How many duck sauce
How many mustard?

Oh, My God,
If the whole world could only
Look like her and
Work like her...

There would be No Problem....

Hank Beukema


http://www.mytown.ca/outsiders/beukema/
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2703 Posts

Posted - 10/29/2005 :  08:45:17  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Dear Abby,

I went to see my friend's band the other night....
I have known Joe since he was eighteen and making
$5.00 an hour
And now he is 42 and making big money,
And I am 54...
I had a quart of Jameson's in me and I had already gone
Home from a bar drunk, when he called me...

I drove the twenty miles to Sloatsburg, NY with a little trouble staying
between the lines... The Vicodins were kicking in and the Jamesons was
waning, so I had a little more control than I should have... When I first
got there I was surprised at how many people were there, up in the country,
That far outside New York..... Joe introduced me to his girlfriend [after a
first wife and another longtime girlfriend] and told me she was Brazilian
and only speaks Portugeuse and was from Hackensack, NJ,,,,,,, [Don't ask how
they make it, I don't know either] I immediately started hitting on her,
being translated thru her Aunt, who was the only one that could do that at
the table..... Surrounded by her brother and his wife and her aunt and
uncle, I proceeded to deliver this speech:

" Joe told me I should never look directly at your face...."
"Why"
He told me that I would fall in love with you"
Really?
Yes,
but it's too late,
I already have,,,,,,"

Dear Abby,
Is there something wrong with me?

PS: When I left the bar, not knowing where I was or the terrain of the area,
I drove on the left side of the road for, oh, about a half a mile before the
ship got right...... I saw Joe waving in my rear view mirror but thought he
was just pissed about his girlfriend......

Yours truly, CONFUSED


http://www.mytown.ca/outsiders/beukema/
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1830 Posts

Posted - 10/29/2005 :  18:44:14  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Now the sun stalls in melancholy splendor. And here comes the Curse of Standard Time. Goblins pressing their noses against the glass. Ghost sentinels in cob-webbed corners. Not nodding off. Not blinking an eye. Perpetually on guard. Oh, I've said many Rosaries kneeling on rice in this transient Purgatory.
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Doug L
Firefly

Canada
5432 Posts

Posted - 10/29/2005 :  22:55:32  Show Profile  Visit Doug L's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
You, darkness, of whom I am born
I love you more than the flame
that limits the world
to the circle it illumines
and excludes all the rest.

But the darkness embraces everything:
shapes and shadows, creatures and me,
people, nations -- just as they are.

It allows me to imagine
a great presence stirring in me.

Ich glaube an Nachte.

I believe in the night.

Rilke

visit http://www.betterdaysradio.blogspot.com
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Egbert
Swinger

Netherlands
812 Posts

Posted - 10/30/2005 :  00:50:42  Show Profile  Visit Egbert's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
He who wants to stand in the light, must travel in the darkness...
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1830 Posts

Posted - 10/30/2005 :  17:46:01  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Item in the San Diego Union:
Kentwood in the Pines

An airborne wild turkey struck a motorcyclist on State Route 79 yesterday.

Two turkeys were walking across southbound Route 79 near Royal Drive about 11:15am., said Officer Brian Pennings of the California Highway Patrol.

One turkey began to fly and struck a southbound motorcyclist in the chest. The impact caused the rider of the 2001 Harley Davidson Softail to cross into the northbound lanes and go into an embankment.
The 56 year old man hit a manzinita bush and rolled over twice. He was thrown from the motorcycle and suffered abrasions to the right side of his face and complained of back and chest pains, Pennings said.

The turkey that hit the man died, Pennings said.

The fate of the second turkey wasn't known.

*

(Probably worrying about that Thanksgiving rumor.)
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1830 Posts

Posted - 10/30/2005 :  17:54:19  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
...and in the LA Times:

The city of Malibu has a message for its residents: When a big quake hits, don't wax up the board and head to the beach.

"Never go to the beach to surf a tsunami wave!" the guide states in bold letters.

The Malibu brochure urges residents to immediately head to higher ground.

But would anyone really think of surfing a tsunami?

"You just never know," Davis, the initiator of the warning said.

*
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1830 Posts

Posted - 10/30/2005 :  17:57:54  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Locally, there's a contest in our town to name a new restaurant. First Prize is dinner for 4 with wine. The menu they're composing says "...to offer internationally-accented California cusine. Stu says that means you can eat the flowers.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1830 Posts

Posted - 10/30/2005 :  18:08:08  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
...so...when the air grew too thin to be useful they moved to a cottage by the sea. Scarred cliffs rose around them. And the high sky's blue. Trumpet vine spilled out of the sandstone. The sun set early under a narrow bridge where tracks crossed the salty inlet. Light slipped from the sideboard every evening just as supper was served. Here he'd pause in the middle of his story to light nightly candles. Then the trees would step forward to lean against the windows and listen. Content when the plot ambled or changed its course. A curved story walking out of his hands. A votive flickering in his soot-smudged palm.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1830 Posts

Posted - 11/01/2005 :  22:03:32  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
We're back at The Lost Hotel. Armed with our kindergarten glitter.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1830 Posts

Posted - 11/01/2005 :  22:10:35  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
75 degrees at 10pm. Santa Ana has the leaves curling on the trees. Scritch-scratching at the windows begging to come in. The air smells like biscuits burning. November's erstwhile message. Some evenings after dishes they row out to the ship. Gradually disappearing. Frail, but still with enough silhouette left to warm the kettle in the galley. There they sit on rough planks under stars. He, in love with Orion's bright three. She, with mute Cassiopeia. They drink the tea of rememberance until the night delivers its dark. Faithfully. And on time.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1830 Posts

Posted - 11/02/2005 :  19:22:34  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Off Mulholland. The man lays his heart on the table. The woman puts the peppermill down. Stirs the stew with a long wooden ladle. The golden arrow under her shirt. The place where her heart used to be. He plants his boots on the old oaken stretcher. Coffee steaming under his nose. Beyond the cove, sacred trees. Shelter for the ship silently rocking. There's a moon in the attic. Stars on the stairs. A blue light in his eyes. Still burning.
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Karen Runk
Firefly

USA
4925 Posts

Posted - 11/02/2005 :  20:24:58  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Send Karen Runk an AOL message  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
I can see it all now. mmmmmm

I can hear the waves.....like the cello.

Karen Runk
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1830 Posts

Posted - 11/11/2005 :  20:55:21  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
The little house in the Cove. Pine cupboards set cater-cornered. Salt settling on the finials of the old iron bed. Reliquary compartment hidden in the bureau drawer. Curlicue patterned. His cap and coat folded neatly on the window seat where he watches the tall ships arrive. Pirates and Sailors. Renegade Saints. Loves abandoned refugees. She leans on his navigational instruction. Leaves his sea shoes by the door. Leaves the scrolled gate to rust open. The crushed stars, undilluted on the floor. The path he walks across, well-lit now. Despite November's unreliable light.
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2703 Posts

Posted - 11/11/2005 :  21:14:56  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
October has given me so little; November must have more to give... The crew waits for my direction.... I have little else to give them except to go North...

http://www.mytown.ca/outsiders/beukema/
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Karen Runk
Firefly

USA
4925 Posts

Posted - 11/11/2005 :  21:21:11  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Send Karen Runk an AOL message  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Be thankful for many things. Life, music, children, faith, freedom, love, etc......

I'm so thankful that God loves us. What else is life about?

Besides you and I have birthdays a day apart. heh heh

Let's celebrate!!!

Karen Runk
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Doug L
Firefly

Canada
5432 Posts

Posted - 11/11/2005 :  22:49:27  Show Profile  Visit Doug L's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
The Abnormal Is Not Courage

The Poles rode out from Warsaw against the German
Tanks on horses. Rode knowing, in sunlight, with sabers,
A magnitude of beauty that allows me no peace.
And yet this poem would lessen that day. Question
The bravery. Say it's not courage. Call it a passion.
Would say courage isn't that. Not at its best.
It was impossible, and with form. They rode in sunlight,
Were mangled. But I say courage is not the abnormal.
Not the marvelous act. Not Macbeth with fine speeches.
The worthless can manage in public, or for the moment.
It is too near the whore's heart: the bounty of impulse,
And the failure to sustain even small kindness.
Not the marvelous act, but the evident conclusion of being.
Not strangeness, but a leap forward of the same quality.
Accomplishment. The even loyalty. But fresh.
Not the Prodigal Son, nor Faustus. But Penelope.
The thing steady and clear. Then the crescendo.
The real form. The culmination. And the exceeding.
Not the surprise. The amazed understanding. The marriage,
Not the month's rapture. Not the exception. The beauty
That is of many days. Steady and clear.
It is the normal excellence, of long accomplishment


Jack Gilbert


Edited by - Doug L on 11/11/2005 22:50:26
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2703 Posts

Posted - 11/12/2005 :  13:01:32  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Lang..... You and Roison are such a treasure.... oh my God.....
Thank you, Newbury for bringing these people into my life..... There is not enuf gold to pay Mick for what his songs and meeting you folks has meant to me....
OK, back to your real lives, Knuckleheads.... Hank

http://www.mytown.ca/outsiders/beukema/
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1830 Posts

Posted - 11/12/2005 :  18:18:30  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Through veiled green mesquite trees she talks with her hands. He listens with his heart when she trips over clouds walking backwards. "One life many times," he tells her teaching her to fly. The future in his eyes when he takes her into the sky. How his blue hair burns the pillow.
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