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Joe Z
Windchimer
USA
1738 Posts |
 Posted - 05/23/2007 : 08:05:20
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Rev Buckman wrote this passage on page one of this wonderful thread:
There is so much more behind you than
you are apt to meet up ahead
that there is nothing
or no one to fear anymore...
Your strength and resolve,
what little you have left,
is not of your making,
it has come from
somewhere else,
but it carries with it a price,
a responsibility that you have ignored for
too long now...
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Ailinn
Swinger
1444 Posts |
Posted - 05/23/2007 : 22:19:07
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| Joe~ Mick once said our past here was longer than our future. His emphasis was on here which he believed was just a moment's passing. "A blink in the big picture." We also talked about boats and fishing that day. I told him everything I knew about fishing was what I read in Ray Carver and Hemmingway. Then we talked about fish having souls. Or birds and other creatures. Even inanimate objects. "...this pen," he said, "...and this turkey sandwich..." and he laughed his gravelly laugh. His curiosity was a marvel but his laugh was something to behold. |
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Ailinn
Swinger
1444 Posts |
Posted - 05/23/2007 : 22:25:11
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Reverend B~
"The story may stop...but the love will continue...forever."
~Mickey Newbury~ |
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Joe Z
Windchimer
USA
1738 Posts |
Posted - 05/24/2007 : 15:00:29
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“Hold your horses,” says the guest, interrupting the desk clerk. “If bad guys lie below and cherubs stay above, then I know exactly where we are.”
The De JaVu Inn desk clerk looks the guest up and down and answers calmly, poker-face eyes giving nothing away. “It’s your choice, sir. We’re booked years in advance.”
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Ailinn
Swinger
1444 Posts |
Posted - 05/24/2007 : 18:36:18
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| You know the place. You've seen the road before on your way to somewhere else. Pavement Ends the sign says. |
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Joe Z
Windchimer
USA
1738 Posts |
Posted - 05/25/2007 : 10:47:38
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| Where the highway ends, she said “Ciao, baby.” As she went a whiter shade of pale, I heard her say, “Been this way so many times I don’t know if I’m coming or going.” |
Edited by - Joe Z on 05/26/2007 07:18:15 |
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BarbraG
Windchimer
1797 Posts |
Posted - 05/25/2007 : 17:54:15
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| Is who I am who I want to be ? |
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Ailinn
Swinger
1444 Posts |
Posted - 05/25/2007 : 18:46:50
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| Just up ahead is the Lost Hotel where you check in by the season. The reason I suppose is the view. And the one who is waiting for you. Patiently waiting. Who'll tell you how people get broken and partially fixed. Just a little piece of the puzzle missing. Grey cardboard where there used to be blue. |
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buckman
Firefly
USA
2685 Posts |
Posted - 05/26/2007 : 08:32:11
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I took my cardboard suitcase, held together with duct tape and headed from my parent's house at eighteen looking for the Hotel America. Evryone else had backpacks and sleeping bags so they called me a beat. I had seen and known the "beatniks" in Greenwich Village and it was a badge of courage to me as I crossed America five times on foot in the next years...
Rev Buckman
http://www.mytown.ca/outsiders/beukema/
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buckman
Firefly
USA
2685 Posts |
Posted - 05/26/2007 : 08:33:42
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Stacked high
my past lives and memories sit among my many old books...
If I have absolutely nothing to read or keep me busy
I will sometimes wade into them and pick one out...
It is important to have something new to read
And to stay busy...
Hank Beukema [47 Days in The Light]
http://www.mytown.ca/outsiders/beukema/
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buckman
Firefly
USA
2685 Posts |
Posted - 05/26/2007 : 08:36:59
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Thanks be to Ro, Craig, Duke, AussieD, JoeZ and now, wonderfully, Barbara and all of the others that have made this page a continuing, flowing,comforting place to be... It is important to read the words of another's heart without the trappings of the world's filters...
I bow to the holy artist in you all...
Hank |
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Ailinn
Swinger
1444 Posts |
Posted - 05/26/2007 : 14:18:30
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Reverend B~
Red right returning. Three bells. |
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Ailinn
Swinger
1444 Posts |
Posted - 05/26/2007 : 14:29:11
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| "The blade had crossed me throat and left its mark there. 'I thought you were dead' most people said when they met me. I was just another busker drownin' in Dublintown. Then I found me a life in the edit." He nods to the woman on the seawall with the long, fly-away hair. Lean John with his green brogue and Dubliner's intuition. "Cobblestone and neon, nah!" He spits and shakes his head and sips his coffee, thick as a cup of crude. In San Diego he plays on the boardwalk with Samson. The big guy who does the stone sculptures. That balancing art that defies wind and imagination. They've got a good thing going, too. Lean John knows how to kick up the tempo when Samson is working the stones. John's wife is tossing bits of Kettle Korn to the gulls while watching the tourists pull into the Hotel Del. "Gonna be a swell weekend!" she says. |
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Ailinn
Swinger
1444 Posts |
Posted - 05/28/2007 : 20:34:47
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| They're doing Show-and-Tell down at Sunrise. Sharing their 'How I got here' stories. Robber's writing everything down. "If you're writin' a book there, girl, make it a mystery and leave my chapter out. By God, you'll have us all makin' key chains soon!" McKenna says, and slides his chair closer to Elise's. "If you're not participating you may quietly leave the room," Alma Cottswold says, looking down her fine patrician nose. Alma's angry and feeling jilted. She's not planning on making friends with Elise soon either. "Sheesh!" McKenna says, winking at blushing Elise, "sure looks to be one long hot summer here." |
Edited by - Ailinn on 05/28/2007 20:41:06 |
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Craig
Firefly
Kyrgyzstan
3707 Posts |
Posted - 05/29/2007 : 21:42:17
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"It smells like Delcambre!" Ryan exclaimed.
We went to the outfall today, down by the docks. The cleansing rains of the weekend awakened the smells familiar to the watermen, those that make their living from the inland waters on the edge of the saltgrass marsh. These are the waters of Black Duck Bay, Fat Rat Pass and Vingt Et Un.
Craig |
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Ailinn
Swinger
1444 Posts |
Posted - 05/31/2007 : 18:20:53
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| Early stars poking through the cloud bank. Here he comes now with his duffel slung over his shoulder. The gulls cries rise on the mist rolling in. All the roads have saints names when he opens and closes his eyes. |
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Craig
Firefly
Kyrgyzstan
3707 Posts |
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BarbraG
Windchimer
1797 Posts |
Posted - 06/02/2007 : 00:46:11
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The sea is crashing angrily against the shore and, as it snarls back into its bed, it sucks the very rocks themselves from the bank, leaving a wide and lonely looking, newly landscaped, almost rockless shoreline. The erosion is instant. The wonder of the beach, pristine in its beauty and its glory, is no more. The sea keeps on its backward track, as if it can't face what it's done. It has taken a thing of beauty and destroyed it, for many seasons to come. Someone once said, "a thing of beauty is a joy forever, its loveliness increases"........ Well, maybe one day. Maybe the children will get to see it restored someday. Then, they can know what the fascination is that drives fully matured adults back to the oceans again and again. Back to the glorious beauty of a blood red sun setting behind the dark blue rolling waters that line the horizon and make the earth look flat. It's only from high above the waters that the earth looks round, and we all know that is an illusion orchestrated by NASA, to add to our wonder of nature, and reinforce the idea that we walked on the moon. Or, did we? Why haven't we walked on it again if we walked on it --- what was it -- almost 50 years ago? We are a gullible people, aren't we? Russia shot down one of its own satellites a couple of weeks ago. Or, did they?
Did you see it with your own eyes? I didn't. |
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Ailinn
Swinger
1444 Posts |
Posted - 06/03/2007 : 17:58:35
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| They worked in a room at the top of the house overlooking red roofs and round chimneys. Each evening he called her to witness the view. The sea was a part of the scenery. And the white sails in the harbor, too. In summer their days were sun full. In winter there was the slanting rain. They kept their duffel diligently packed and their navigation charts rolled in the old mirrored dresser. One day the wind blew a blizzard of small branches against the mullioned window. They hurried down the path to the flagstone seawall. Their dreams ran ahead of them, anxiously glancing back over their shoulders. In the harbor, crews were pulling the sails down at the first small craft warnings. And from the Coast Guard more dire news as the clouds came greyly down. He cast off the lines then. He took up the tiller. He steered her out into the open sea. |
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Jonmark
Windchimer
USA
1765 Posts |
Posted - 06/03/2007 : 20:59:34
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“Cut that damn TV off...” Gene growled.
His wife stabbed at the buttons on the remote control.
“How can they be so reckless? Get a few ‘expert’s on
tape… call it a ‘documentary’ and all of the sudden, a
few hundred thousand of us made the whole thing up! ”
Leslie knew the storm would pass. As surely as the one
that was kicking up outside.
She’d seen it before.
She knew he was more hurt than angry.
But she still felt for him.
He had been the last stand in that dark cold place.
The last to risk his pink little behind to do his bit.
It all seemed noble to him back then… being a Cold
Warrior.
“Why the hell don’t they talk to CalTech, MIT, Stanford?!
The material we gave them is still rewriting text books,
for goodness sake…” , his voice trailing off as he headed
to the kitchen for a beer.
“… and the Russian’s… they tracked us all the way
out and back with their own stuff. Why would anyone
believe they’d let us get away with that?”
Deep down, it doesn’t really surprise him though.
No one really even gave a damn at the time.
It was, after all, the sixth time the “stunt” had been pulled off.
The twentieth century’s biggest and most expensive anti-climax.
Still, it seems like yesterday to him.
The vision of the blue marble rising over the South Massif
that day at Taurus-Littrow.
He could hide it completely with his gloved thumb.
Imagine, everything and everyone that ever existed...
Now you see it… now you don’t.
Now he’s just an old man.
His defining moment… discarded.
A crazy old man.. or worse… a scoundrel.
“Aww...what the hell”… he thinks, as he settles back into his
LazyBoy.
“I know I was there damnit… they can’t take that from me.”
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The Nightly Vigil