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Ailinn
Swinger
1444 Posts |
 Posted - 01/06/2006 : 21:44:26
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| The APL Panama still sits off Ensenada. 880 feet long. Containers stacked 7 high. Waiting for the bimonthly rising tide. January 14th. Around there. Meanwhile... Jose Luis Gonzalez. His handy camera and portable printer ready. Provides family souvineers. Color photographs. The grounded Panama in the background. The date stamped in gold. A steal at 30 pesos. |
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Doug L
Firefly
Canada
5390 Posts |
Posted - 01/06/2006 : 23:51:18
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We were walking down Laugavegur in the slanted sun, its
light laughing in the red of her hair. Going to a concert
by an activist out on bail, we were early and stopped into
one of those ubiquitous Reykjavik bookstores. Murakami's
South Of The Border, West Of The Sun leaped into her hand.
I bought it for her. After the sad concert, we stopped into a
place called Puccini's for a five-dollar coffee, there met a
guy from Los Angeles who had found his holy ground here,
in 101's maze of delights. Later yet, sipping cocoa together
in bed, by the light of the midnight sun she read to me, in
English, the first ten pages of Murakami's book.
visit http://www.betterdaysradio.blogspot.com |
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Ailinn
Swinger
1444 Posts |
Posted - 01/07/2006 : 18:36:51
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| Storm-driven and demon-tossed. They cross the high seas and land on new ground. "See how each leaf on the tree dreams a different green dream..." he says. He has smoke under his eyelids. Sparks under his finger nails. He paces back and forth. Unable to stand still. The leather pouch of knuckle bones raps against her ribs. Angels arrive. The spinning stars spin. |
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Ailinn
Swinger
1444 Posts |
Posted - 01/08/2006 : 18:39:53
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| The weekend after Epiphany. Sunday's dawn leaps out of the canyon. All bright cymbals and mica-flecked air. Jumps on the bed. Scorches the sheets before they can open their eyes. Winding light off Mulholland. Reluctantly coming down. Twenty-one miles strung across peaks and canyons. Meandering through the Hollywood Hills. 1400 feet above sea level. Hideaway houses. Scarred garden pathways. Silver sage and verdigris gates. No numbered addresses for those looking west at 17 more minutes of sunshine. It's slow-going on Laurel to the Canyon Country Store. His Sorcerer's image in the rear-view mirror. Ah, the random, see-saw circumstances of life. |
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booty
Sitter
USA
93 Posts |
Posted - 01/08/2006 : 21:10:39
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Karen...Meeks and I are about as closely related as these flowers.
TRILOGY OF A WILDFLOWEER
Wild matures a cowslip
On the brink of a dashing stream
Madding though in season bloom
So lovely, the golden primrose
And of a simple nature
Bent by a primal wind
From springtime to soon fall
Lain in deep seas of lasting memories
A million fireflies steal
Lighting a perennial work of art
Quietly adorned
Painted by an incorrigible youth
With such a joyful color
Flickering in time
As the silent evening grows.
Booty |
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booty
Sitter
USA
93 Posts |
Posted - 01/08/2006 : 21:33:14
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quiet common
down next to twilight approaching night
the rays of day are cut short exposing
no scathed edges.
in this departure and arrival I hear sounds
of inflected words sensing the tone, maybe
the principle of genius for the first time
or maybe the last,
such as a nocturnal bird appearing from
its arbor moving ingeniously by its perspective;
as are my cheerful neighbors so positively aligned.
from the darkness sparking stars light up
the sky enabling me to see more clear how
close I am to the natural distance; where
night and day peacefully resolve
from that higher level,
yet it aliens itself from me still
that I am contrived by that unknown-
interning my mind
to wonder -- abstracting a perfect means,
of which I have no idea
of that which I am instinctually drawn.
Booty |
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Ailinn
Swinger
1444 Posts |
Posted - 01/10/2006 : 22:24:14
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"...so close your sleepy eyes and dream..."
~Mickey Newbury~ |
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Ailinn
Swinger
1444 Posts |
Posted - 01/11/2006 : 19:57:10
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| We are sleeping on the desert. Halfway between San Lupe and the Valle de San Inez. It takes a long time to get here on horseback. There is no other way. He rides well and can talk to a horse with his knees. The trail is trouble. Does not love the traveler. Sun scorches the earth. And the land falls away. Falls away. So, hurry! Make the campfire fast! One minute the horizon is in flames. Then the sun sets. The worm dreams in the bottle they pass on hand-to-hand. The Federales smoke seriously. Moonlight does not please them. Their horses are restless. Shivering with equine fear. |
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Ailinn
Swinger
1444 Posts |
Posted - 01/14/2006 : 14:54:39
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| We're making Paella for Ralph and Catherine's one year Anniversary. A traditional dish with chicken and chorizo, shrimps and clams and mussels, saffron and fat lemon wedges. Cooked outside in huge cast iron pans. January 22nd is their day, but they'll be away cruising Mazatlan and Acapulco, so the party is tonight. A sunset affair. Mirella's fixing Fruta del Fuego with her secret Mayan Mystery Sauce. Cilantro, jalapenos, hot chili oil, and a firey mango marmalade she brushes on the fruit just before grilling. I know the ingredients, but I don't know the exact amounts. Critical for perfect results. Lupe read about a new market that sells ice sculptures for her Sangria centerpiece and Stu is there now. "Your choices are...dolphins, sailboat, cupid with wings, or two lop-sided hearts entwined," he tells her on the phone. "The hearts and cupid say Be My Valentine, but they'll saw that off for free." Stu is for dolphins. Lupe says, "Hearts." We need 20 inches of cubic space in the freezer, so it's chaos in the kitchen either way. We've got our blow torches ready for the Caramel Flan, Ralph and Catherine's favorite. "Get the Fire Department on speed-dial. Light the lanterns and crank up the patio hearters. Sure, we're weather wimps," Mirella says, "but our blood IS thin as WATER!" It's a cold 60 degrees in San Diego. Hooray for 24 minutes of sunlight. Happy Anniversary, Mr. & Mrs. Ralph Gardner! |
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Doug L
Firefly
Canada
5390 Posts |
Posted - 01/18/2006 : 10:41:59
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I ask Rahsaan for the word of the day.
"Attachment," he says, eyebrows light.
"It is centrifugal to soul. In its sway, twin sentries
of belief and judgment, triggers of separation."
His eyes wide, I wait, knowing there is more.
"The brightest threads are taken from the basic cloth,
where they most belong. Rainbows call the police every day
to report a missing colour."
Rahsaan's wife has asked him to plan a trip with her,
claiming he is attached to his garden. So this is how
attachment came to be the word, I say.
"Where to go?," he winks. "Heaven is here."
visit http://www.betterdaysradio.blogspot.com |
Edited by - Doug L on 01/18/2006 10:43:13 |
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Bob C
Swinger
USA
1147 Posts |
Posted - 01/18/2006 : 14:03:41
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It is here...!!!
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Doug L
Firefly
Canada
5390 Posts |
Posted - 01/18/2006 : 16:20:42
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All who seek you
rest you.
And those who find you
bind you to image and gesture.
I would rather sense you
as the earth senses you.
In my ripening
ripens
what you are.
I need from you no tricks
to prove you exist.
Time, I know,
is other than you.
No miracles, please.
Just let your laws
become clearer
from generation to generation.
-Rainer Maria Rilke,
Book of Hours
visit http://www.betterdaysradio.blogspot.com |
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Ailinn
Swinger
1444 Posts |
Posted - 01/18/2006 : 19:30:17
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...blues-moanin' wind through the eaves, Baby.
A ghost singin' in the trees... |
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booty
Sitter
USA
93 Posts |
Posted - 01/20/2006 : 22:25:06
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To penetrate more deeply
One finds there is no difference
Between stupidity and wisdom...
In our differences we are unique.
Booty
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Joey L.
Swinger
USA
1329 Posts |
Posted - 01/20/2006 : 22:29:07
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Like the reference in the dictionary. There is only one word that should always appear in quotation marks " " ...
That is the word ... "Normal".
The Future's Not ... |
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Ailinn
Swinger
1444 Posts |
Posted - 01/21/2006 : 18:57:08
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| When famine and tarnished skies came to Durrow, the sun clouded over and the rain did rain. There in the sanctuary of his deep dream she stayed. One long night. Ten thousand days. The moon climbed up over the moor's heathered edge. Opalescent slice of mother-of-pearl. Plucky, and luck-bound she awoke, still wearing the ruby earrings and the long-fringed shawl. From above the clouds he commanded, "Fly now!" The black and blue sky filled with wings. |
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Doug L
Firefly
Canada
5390 Posts |
Posted - 01/26/2006 : 00:21:30
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MY MOSES
Time to praise the other Moses, the one who concludes
That the bush isn't really burning, as he first supposed,
Just backlit in red by the setting sun.
Magnified by the need of a runaway to be pardoned,
To pull his shoes off and receive a vision.
The Moses who, when he lifts his staff,
Can't part the waters, who has to wade in
At low tide and hope for the best.
Nobody drowns. Nobody's following. The twelve tribes,
Sluggish after a hard day in the quarries,
Didn't find his lecture on the virtues inspiring.
And Pharoah was willing to see him go.
Good riddance, what with his praise of creation
That gouged the work month with holidays.
Now he's wringing his clothes out on the other side,
Relieved it hasn't taken him any longer to realize
He isn't much of a prophet, that he hasn't the gift.
Free now of the journey to the Promised Land
And the wars with the natives, he can settle down at once
Whenever he pleases, and be happy even here
In the country that disappointed Columbus.
That wasn't the hoped-for shortcut to spices.
Happy even on this block of mine, my neighbor,
A civics teacher at the high school,
Who leaves the gate to his yard unlocked
So the neighborhood children can pick the berries
Before the first frost comes and leaf smoke rises
From small, mute fires he's lit himself.
Carl Dennis
visit http://www.betterdaysradio.blogspot.com |
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Ailinn
Swinger
1444 Posts |
Posted - 01/26/2006 : 19:14:25
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ABSENCE
I have scarcely left you
when you go in me, crystalline,
or trembling,
or uneasy, wounded by me
or overwhelmed with love, as when your eyes
close upon the gift of life
that without cease I give you.
My love,
we have found each other
thirsty and we have
drunk up all the water and the blood,
we found each other
hungry
and we bit each other
as fire bites,
leaving wounds in us.
But wait for me,
keep for me your sweetness.
I will give you too
a rose.
~Pablo Neruda~ |
Edited by - Ailinn on 01/26/2006 19:36:21 |
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Ailinn
Swinger
1444 Posts |
Posted - 01/26/2006 : 19:31:41
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| She scrubbed with lye soap up and down the old washboard. The thatched cottage was damp. The water was cold. Out of that coldness did grow a radiant lust for fire. "Love, come to Durrow. Come to Durrow," he said. "Warm on the other side of the sea. Sure, the country 'tis grand. And the sky overhead believes it's God's own blue road to Heaven," he said. Then he showed her where the boat was hidden. Ahh. Now, I can't say she wasn't a bit curious. And don't think she didn't dream. But she was afraid of the ocean's sharp teeth. The wind's fast, magician hands. |
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Ailinn
Swinger
1444 Posts |
Posted - 01/29/2006 : 17:36:48
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| Intermission. I can hear them shouting on the hill. Merciful. Not killing. Human hair and Kitty Litter. Showing up in garbage bags by our blue front door. To foil the gophers. "Cute little things," I mistakenly say. "Never should have let you see them," Stu says. "War is war." |
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The Nightly Vigil