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Ailinn
Windchimer

1809 Posts

Posted - 03/25/2006 :  19:17:53  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
We are squatters at the gates of Paradise tonight. Bowing our heads and folding our hands. Waiting for our cold souls warm renewal. Prayers for all who are in harms way or hurting. Father, please bless us all.
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Craig
Firefly

Kyrgyzstan
3779 Posts

Posted - 03/25/2006 :  20:24:11  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Bless us all...

Craig
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1809 Posts

Posted - 03/27/2006 :  18:35:07  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
A sea story. Where they wander in mortal forgetfulness. Through trees. Conflagrant green between Puerto Vallarta and Manzanillo's azure coves. A bluff-top above Careyes. Tile roof. Sun-dried adobe. Wrap-around wrought iron fence. Stone shrine in the courtyard corner. Neptune and Poseidon conspiring again. He sits with his chin in the palm of his hand. His faceted insight spread before him. His compass and sextant close to hand. His scrolled maps rolled out on the table. "Here," he says, tapping his finger when she glances over his shoulder. He points to X in the candlelit room. The house wraps itself around them. One more night. One more day.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1809 Posts

Posted - 03/28/2006 :  19:25:46  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
She walks the bike through the sandy wash. Over tracks through eucalyptus and confetti pepper trees. Pushes the heavy door open. Hurries across the scarred, hardwood floor where he's waiting by the fireside in a puddle of rain. Steam rising around him in halos. Outside, the gauze sky begins to unspool. A star falls. Some broken shards of moon. His destiny. His quiet wreath of reverie. "Don't fix it," he says, "it's broken the right way."
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1809 Posts

Posted - 03/30/2006 :  19:11:43  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Journal entry, March 31st, 1906.
Somewhere in the Central Valley:
"O, fragrant, lovely morning. The wash is on the line and the children, full of oatmeal. Even a few raisins, too.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1809 Posts

Posted - 04/02/2006 :  20:04:39  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
They arrive at the edge of the world. "We'll stop here," he says, "for now."
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Craig
Firefly

Kyrgyzstan
3779 Posts

Posted - 04/03/2006 :  19:44:38  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Honeysuckle in the air, Addicks deer feasting...
Good ride today, alone.

craig
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1809 Posts

Posted - 04/04/2006 :  01:26:43  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
The way is rutted and there is no road. Just the bonnet-tops of the wagons before us.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1809 Posts

Posted - 04/05/2006 :  20:47:29  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
A fleeting thought caught in the corner of his eye. A faded signpost. Paved Road Ends. He remembers. Tells her the fog-bound story. Complimentary First Aid Kit. Elmer's Glue. Kindergarten glitter.
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Craig
Firefly

Kyrgyzstan
3779 Posts

Posted - 04/05/2006 :  21:12:31  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
When I was a child I caught a fleeting glimpse,
Out of the corner of my eye.
I turned to look but it was gone.
I cannot put my finger on it now.
The child is grown, the dream is gone.
I have become comfortably numb...


~Pink Floyd - "Comfortably Numb"
The Wall

It has been this way for three solid weeks. It has been sliced, disected and analyzed...again. I know better. It should be appreciated "as is". Nothing else listened to except "Looks Like Rain"

Craig
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1809 Posts

Posted - 04/06/2006 :  20:16:26  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
The bigger the window,
the more it trembles.

~Ted Kooser~
Nebraska, USA
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1809 Posts

Posted - 04/08/2006 :  19:26:36  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
We cross the Border early. Tijuana is busy. Our friends aren't prepared for the onslaught of children begging at 7am. Here, Death is a celebration. The children sell Chiclets and suck anise candy skulls all day. Fierce faces made with black and white sugar. Mischief in their eyes. Black rings around their sweet bud mouths.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1809 Posts

Posted - 04/08/2006 :  19:31:18  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Centuries old, they forget time and what rhymes with it. He pulls the sun from his pocket. Holds it above star-crossed trees. Orange groves at the edge of an ocean. Slim eucalyptus leaves. He guards the days blank pages faithfully. Under the accordion-pleated sky she lights candles. Sets the table. Places the fruit in a small wooden bowl. Hastily unpacks her trousseau.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1809 Posts

Posted - 04/11/2006 :  18:22:08  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Doug, thank you for your pictures. I wish you a sweet, memory-filled trip.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1809 Posts

Posted - 04/11/2006 :  18:49:03  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Hank, here's the original. (I eliminated much conversation about the dog. And whose sitting where at the card table. It's all in a trunk at the foot of the bed. What to save in case of earthquake or fire.)


NIGHTLY VIGIL AT THE CAFE LUPE

It is dark
The Cafe is empty
The kerosene lamp's yellow glow
Throws shadows against the adobe
I turn up the chairs on the tables
Sweep the dirt into a pile by the door
Outside the street is deserted
Except for stony-eyed horses
Shivering with equine fear
How the land falls away from us!
You stand beside me
Looking out from under
Your wide hat dreaming of horses
Your eyes trace the hawks flight above canyons
I lower my eyes against what you know
Your atavistic knowledge
When I look back again
Your eyes have turned to stars
*






Edited by - Ailinn on 01/14/2016 13:02:23
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1809 Posts

Posted - 04/13/2006 :  20:16:42  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
GOD HAS A COUSIN

Lucy, or Lucifer,
if you want to be formal.
Everybody called him
Lucy growing up,
which accounts a lot
for how he turned out.
God's not as mad at him
as some people think.
You don't become God
by holding grudges.
And besides,
Lucy taught Him
how to swing a bat,
though nobody wants
to hear about that.
Living in the same neighborhood,
hanging at the same places,
you get to feeling close,
you know?
Lucy's one of the few people
left who remember
what it was like
In The Beginning.
Sure, God and he went
their seperate ways,
but truth be known,
they're always asking,
"How's he doing?" and "How's He doing?"
That's the way it is
with family.
God's still looking
for Lucy to move back.

~Cynthia Rylant~
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2703 Posts

Posted - 04/14/2006 :  19:01:23  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
[Where are the stars? I see only holes. A light from behind the sky
makes it's way through... touches the Earth and traces the ground until once again
the midnight sun falls quietly over the edge. You can tell the moon
is full, some crazy Cowboy tried to gun down the wind again this morning.][Mickey Newbury]

I sit in the back of the Cafe, in the dark, where no one can see me...I see it all, I hear it all......The Evil... The Evil ... I can no longer pretend it is not there.... Someday they will pay for who and what they are...They will not ever even know... One moment, here, drinking a whiskey; the next, in Hell...
It will ruin their day... It is the Work of the Lord..... I continue to not feel a sense of guilt....

Rev Buckman


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

USA
2703 Posts

Posted - 04/14/2006 :  19:03:11  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
The Carnival Whore told me
That Blue Velvet was her
Favorite song
And that
If I wanted to live past fifteen
I should back slowly out of the tent
And Forget that I ever
Saw what I saw

Easy for her to say...


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

USA
2703 Posts

Posted - 04/14/2006 :  19:04:20  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
While we are Gods
We can only watch them struggle...
While we are Gods we cannot help them
In their pain,,,

I wish that we could tell them to stop,
Don't worry
It won't change anything...
Do your best
Love one another
Believe in what you have to....

Until we have faces
We cannot help them...
Someday Yahweh will
Send one to walk among them....


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

USA
2703 Posts

Posted - 04/14/2006 :  19:08:49  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Ailinn, Your original Vigil still inspires everything I do and also the writings of Jason Stone [Illiance]... Wow, do you realize how long you have kept this post going?? Mick would have loved it... You must get the sound files.... I don't want to have to come out there.... H

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