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Ailinn
Windchimer

2197 Posts

Posted - 12/18/2013 :  22:35:36  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Sitting still in places until they were stiff as stones. A coffee shop in Little Italy under wind and the flight path to Lindbergh. Mona Lisa across the street with her sly smile and specialty pizza menu. Star of India in the harbor rocking like a cradle. Jets threading nonsense between retrofitted high rises. "Pick up your feet when we fly over the parking garage," the pilots say. The stars stay up for hours over the honey glazed bay. Hot palms and check point deals where you buy what comes in through the window and pay for waiting in line. All the poets across the border remember his name.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2197 Posts

Posted - 12/28/2013 :  17:45:23  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
They sit at many tables late into the nights. With each telling he raises the stakes. The unraveling thread in the corner is what keeps his eye. "Lean on me," he says, and places a frame around each story.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2197 Posts

Posted - 12/30/2013 :  17:47:08  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Marcella Delight, still beautiful with a champagne flute in her hand. Boughs and flickering candles on the mantle. She's showing me her new Rancho Mirage townhouse where the famous photographs of her dead beloved line the walls. A gallery of black and white except for the small framed picture on the nightstand beside her bed. Her gypsy-bright skirts hiked high in the middle of a shallow stream. His shadow crossing the water because of the angle of the light. I can tell by the trees it's somewhere in the north east. "The sorrow of his death never leaves me, but I've had to give up grief because it affects my arthritis... I know I've told you this before," she says, handing me several hand-written journals as we're saying goodbye.


There's long shadows on the desert floor before the switch-back Santa Rosas. Stones piling up memories on quiescent cairns in the quiet creosote air. All that kinetic energy loading the San Jacinto and San Andreas faults. I follow the speed limit all the way home.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2197 Posts

Posted - 01/04/2014 :  18:02:14  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Before he cast her in the role, before he ever put his arms around her, before he knew her for one hour, "...I know everything about you..." he said.

"They fed me butter and bread. A sprinkling of sugar on top. They put me down for an afternoon nap. No rocking chair story. Simply laid on a bed with a white hobnail spread. A summer room on Nantucket before my parents arrived. They set my shoes in a bay window where filmy curtains billowed like sail. Rose hip bushes and glary ocean light. They closed the door quietly and their tiptoe voices retreated. I saw it and heard it at the same time. A faint whir of sound. A stealthy sleight of green. A hinged swivel head and alien eyes. Mechanical saw-tooth arms. The rush of terror when I knew it could fly. For an hour I watched it riding the curtains and inspecting my shoes. When they carried me back to the kitchen I had the popcorn imprint of the bedspread on my arms and legs. The chef caught it in his cap and they made a big show of taking it outside. But it wasn't a mantis while it was in the room. It was something else." "How old were you then?" he asks, sitting so close their knees and chairs are touching. "I could walk," she says, "...but I never wore those shoes again. Bronzed. Collecting dust on a bookcase shelf."
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2197 Posts

Posted - 01/11/2014 :  19:04:02  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Blue manicures and silver sequined capris parading down the Boulevard. Morning markets ablaze in Monterrey sunlight. Food trucks on every corner. Queso. Corn and lime. Priests in wide hats and black cassocks. Widows praying at the Panteon gates. Red cellophane on the taxi floor when the mourners step out with sticky fingers. There's a too-high curb on a stony back street where a woman rushes to meet her beloved. Dangerous shoes. All trust and abandon.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2197 Posts

Posted - 01/27/2014 :  08:21:18  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
At the edge of evening in the Valle de Guadalupe a small house invents itself at the end of a rutted road. There's an old metal glider on a wrap-around porch with a fresh coat of turquoise paint. A white wicker chair with worn sunflower cushions. Behind the house is a post-rail fence and an untended vine-entwined arbor. In the photograph he's standing still although his silhouette appears to be moving. His walk, so rolling and easy as his booted right foot comes down. Bright yarns in the kitchen window beyond his shoulders. Eyes of God. A picture that makes her eyes sting and her fingertips burn.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2197 Posts

Posted - 02/04/2014 :  20:47:36  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Slow-going on the Canyon roads. Fairfax to Sunset and up into the hills the nights fell down around them. His safe-harbor embrace. His endless reservoir of what was needed. His profile that never changes.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2197 Posts

Posted - 02/13/2014 :  18:51:10  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
He's rolling his shoulders and stretching his wings. He's mapping a flight plan above the moon-bright black-top. He's racing the center-line down twenty-mile straightaways. Elbow out the window, AM music flying in. It seems they've been driving forever.
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aussiedave
Swinger

Australia
509 Posts

Posted - 02/14/2014 :  01:02:04  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Send aussiedave a Yahoo! Message  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
John 1 verse 5
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aussiedave
Swinger

Australia
509 Posts

Posted - 02/16/2014 :  00:30:31  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Send aussiedave a Yahoo! Message  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
this love.


as Christ loved his church,
this,
a measure and depth of love,

immeasurable..

deeper than
the bottomless..

this,

like the ever expanding
universe,
a love

beyond human comprehension,
a love

forever unfolding,
all encompassing,
as it cleanses and purifies,

a holy love..
that lasts for all universal eternity

~~*~~

..so is the husband's love
for his wife,

he would die for her,
literally,
and unto himself,

for this love is

eternal,

this love
is never ending.


dR February 2014
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aussiedave
Swinger

Australia
509 Posts

Posted - 02/18/2014 :  22:04:06  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Send aussiedave a Yahoo! Message  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
TiLdE

bring me water
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2197 Posts

Posted - 02/20/2014 :  20:40:00  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
San Elijo. There's a certain resolve in this painting. The spit of land he placed in the center of the canvas with a stroke of bent water where the lagoon turns back under the bridge. The colors mostly muted blues except for the Railroad Crossing sign and smear of black in one corner. The black of plus-tide nights when he pulled up on the porous sandstone strip (too narrow to turn around so he had to back his way out) and cut the lights. DANGER - SLIDE AREA - PARKING PROHIBITED. The dark water rising. He'd light a cigarette and tell her to roll down the window. She'd grip the car door handle and stare down the track until the train roared across the trestle. The car would rock back and forth loosening fistfuls of stones into the water. He said she cried out when the train went by.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2197 Posts

Posted - 02/20/2014 :  20:43:02  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
In the next painting she's laughing with the water can in her hand. Enamel blue and sturdy. Too heavy to carry full.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2197 Posts

Posted - 02/20/2014 :  20:45:44  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Both stubborn and born to it, the pixels were adding up. A steep incense rising. Fever stories. Flash paper. Consequence on every page.
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BarbraG
Windchimer

1825 Posts

Posted - 02/22/2014 :  19:29:08  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
She had wrecked the car. He would never believe that she hadn't done it on purpose. He thought she did everything on purpose. She only knew one thing for sure. She would rather go home and face the consequences, instead of having him lurking behind every tree the next day, and in the days to come. There was just one thing. She couldn't remember if the gun was loaded or not.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2197 Posts

Posted - 02/23/2014 :  17:51:45  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
That winter they lived inside their coats in a city so steep there were stairs built into the sidewalks. A wet wind off the Bay lifted the curtains away from the sill and rattled the window panes. Rarely a morning without three feet of fog on the floor. They kept their shoes on a shelf stuffed with newspaper, and a bucket of charcoal behind a closed closet door. There were coffee kiosks on every corner and a tight-wired harp-like bridge. Salt mist on the finials of their high iron bed where his hair burned a hole through the pillow.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2197 Posts

Posted - 02/26/2014 :  18:15:20  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
-for Mick.

I was thirteen and living in the Commodore Hotel above Grand Central. The big three were Ford, Conover, and Powers. I worked for Conover. My picture on the cover of magazines. Christmas issue Peter Pan collar with halo over my head. Holding a book of carols with my mouth in a little O. I'd pass the news stand and see that girl and imagine her house in the country and big noisy family. I named her older brother Ted after a photographer at Pagano Studios who kept a fishbowl full of candy bars. My irritating sister was Monique whose mother was always on set lunging with a can of Aqua Net. Her cloud of flammable vapor in a room full of Klieg lights. Star was the makeup lady who drew on my face. MaXFactor Pan Stick her camouflage of choice. Star kept a "secret weapon" hidden in her smock pocket. A greasepaint called Clown White that made your eyes camera-bright. Star wore bangle bracelets and smoked Parliament cigarettes. She had a boyfriend who worked in the Terminal and a daughter who played cello at Julliard. I was a good model. I could stay still in an awkward position for a very long time. "Don't sweat, don't scratch, don't sneeze." Take your chit to the pay window and get it in cash. Clean up and hit Horn and Hardart...

He loved this story. Many versions. "I can see it..." he'd say, and start with his twenty questions. Where I was born wasn't the first question he asked me. "Manhattan," I said. "Oh, Lord," he said, "OH, LORD!" Days gone by. Smell of Pond's Cold Cream... Scent like a photograph.

Edited by - Ailinn on 02/26/2014 20:53:32
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2197 Posts

Posted - 03/02/2014 :  14:32:42  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Friday night at Sunrise Retirement Home.

Lu- "...surely them pearly gates will be open for me 'cause the life I endured made me worthy. We were married right outta High School, my Tommy and me. Rented a railroad flat in a tenement his aunt and uncle owned. Aunt by blood, and uncle by squirrely. We had the top floor above them and I told Tommy they probably held a glass to the ceiling when the lights went out. They kept fish and parakeets that died right away. The birds went out in shoe boxes. My in-laws kept fish too. The bowl so cloudy I never saw fish 'til the day I tapped on the glass with my new engagement ring. I worked in his folks hardware store a dozen years. I wanted to wallpaper my kitchen and was flippin' through the big books when Tommy's Ma says, "Pick from the barrel, Lucille." A huge wooden barrel with off-print seconds. Twenty-five cents a roll. Let them take it outta my wages, I told Tommy, I want what I want. But Tommy said they were offerin' the barrel for free and I couldn't offend them. We were married forty-one years when he passed in '98. I realized how angry I was when I stopped going to sleep in his tee shirts."

Yoli- "He had a limp. He was easy to see coming to me." She's speaking of a time in another country where men worked on site all week long and were let off half-day Saturdays. How she would pick him up in the truck and they'd drive the hour home to share bolillos and bowls of pozole. "Later we drink Antonio's salty wine and have a bath with candles."

Lucille and Yolanda. Two women in felt slippers in the Day Room splitting buttermilk bars from Cove Bakery.

*
One of Mick's favorite meals was grilled cheese sandwiches and Campbell's Tomato soup. The last supper we had in San Diego when Mick, Susie, and Laura were on their way to Texas. "Newbury Gourmet," Mick called it. Cameron said the blessing. He was six, and at the end he added "...and please, God, take that thing out of Uncle Mickey's nose." "Amen," Mick said. He was an inventive cook with daring kitchen instincts. Off-the-wall combinations that worked. He tweaked my Thanksgiving menu many years. I said, Mick, you could be a great chef. "I know," he said, "hahaha."





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Ailinn
Windchimer

2197 Posts

Posted - 03/12/2014 :  21:38:14  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
On the new way to Ensenada. Always a guy in a black leather vest with a carbine slung over his shoulder. Bandolier bullets. Black Talon ammo. All those blue nights slow dances trip-wired.
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2825 Posts

Posted - 03/27/2014 :  03:01:39  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
For Ailinn

Effortlessly she paints.
Moonbeams from other planets.
Sounds from a future passed.
Colors remembered from dreams.
Stories from astral travels.
Windchimes with no breeze.

A taste not recognized, but pleasing.

All things considered...

Rev Buckman ~*~

Edited by - buckman on 03/27/2014 03:01:59
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