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Ailinn
Windchimer
2154 Posts |
 Posted - 05/01/2014 : 19:40:07
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| High-back booth in a low watt corner the Summer she didn't wear shoes. Salty kisses and ice cold beer. The rubies he hammered into her ears glistening like flares on a runway. "...gold buttercup setting..." he said. His mischief a market to mine on the sand-blown Boulevard. Sky high and brazen blue the way he liked it. |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2154 Posts |
Posted - 05/04/2014 : 17:36:53
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| Sunday morning mall. Rush of Technicolor tutus across the parking lot. Miniature ballerinas. Plies' at the barre. Floor to ceiling pirouetting view. A Starbucks around the corner and a western-theme carousel. Seatbelts for the smallest buckaroos who wave and ride no-handed. |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2154 Posts |
Posted - 05/21/2014 : 17:05:34
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| Once I spoke with no one but I wasn't lonely. At the orphanage the food was horrid. I worked in the kitchen so I knew. Five gallon cans with two inches of fat on top. Of everything. I made toast in the oven and a dime worked the Coke machine. The Ladies Auxiliary kept Ritz crackers and Welsh's grape jelly in the refectory. I'd sneak in and sit on an upside-down bucket eating crackers and jelly and drawing on my knees with red pencil. When I stopped wearing a raincoat over pajamas and wore my uniform to 6am Mass I was allowedkitchen AND refectory chores. By then they had added peanut butter. |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2154 Posts |
Posted - 05/21/2014 : 17:12:20
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| Shards of brittle light glinting off the desert reflected in tinted windshield. Tunnel of dust cyclone fluting out behind elbows angled on both sides of four-wheel drive drawing the sun in like magnets. Sky high or closing in. Slate or indigo. Blue nights. Moths beating dusty wings on all-night gas pumps. Neon beer. Coca-Cola. Ice. I sit spine-bowed. Fingers laced over knees against the dashboard. Intermittent static. AM music flying in. Your sweat-stained cowboy hat pulled low. You think you look like anybody else and grin it. |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2154 Posts |
Posted - 05/26/2014 : 20:15:03
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| I often dream you are here. Many anointed mornings. The tricky toaster tossing toast across the kitchen table. You catching it mid-air. "Hot! Hot! Hot!" Spreading sticky fig jam. Licking the knife and your fingers. Electricity making a racket. Washer, dryer. Rainbird sprinklers striking the wind chimes every third time around. |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2154 Posts |
Posted - 05/26/2014 : 20:29:07
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You like late afternoon. The way sun lays out on the water. Luxurious in its recline. A shimmer in the air then. Mexico to Malibu. Tangible gold. "Take your sunglasses off. Really see it..." you say, dragging the easel across the patio. Temperature. Wind direction. Angle and slant. All have import on your creation. Now you're animated. Your sermon of light. Pacing. Gesturing. Moving your hands. Your voice rising and falling. Painting new colors inside my head.
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2154 Posts |
Posted - 05/28/2014 : 18:24:45
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| Playing in snow. A grown man making angels in a four-season mountain town. Up there with the Indian's towering lore. The ghostly shepherds at the creek. The desert below us. Chaos freeways. A pine table corner. A bent willow rocking chair on the porch. A truck in the driveway hardly visible under the dense cover of pine. Unexplainable silvergold wings spread across the windshield. I have the picture. You leaning back in the rocker. Palms resting on your knees. Half in sunlight, half in shadow your eyes are closed. |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2154 Posts |
Posted - 05/30/2014 : 22:14:55
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-Midnights outside the high house. Shoulders touching on geranium-stacked fire escape. Fog-softened voices when mysterious cargos slip under the alphabet bridge.
-A long walk down the flat beach. "Teak and telescopes," he says, glancing up at decks balanced on the cliff's edge.
-His hands reaching out from walls down the narrow hallway. His fingers streaked. Cadmium Yellow, Cerulean Blue.
-When the fire engines arrive he's tying the sheets together. Tossing them over the balcony rail to her smile so defiantly escaping. Air 71. Water 67. Mostly sunny. |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2154 Posts |
Posted - 05/31/2014 : 20:10:27
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Miles of garlic. Tinsel-strewn vineyards. Stack trains. Goats in the oak trees. Back roads and frontage roads. Red chips from El Indio burning their mouths. Blue eyes. Truly blue.
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Fugue of words. No blurred edges. Accurate 20/20.
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"The spread-open fan of memory," he says. She says, "The longing... The scrim of alarm..." |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2154 Posts |
Posted - 06/10/2014 : 18:59:33
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| In the old house behind the turn-around trees the pavement ends and the gravel path narrows. They have to walk up the road to collect the mail. A Rubbermaid tub beside the box for when they miss a few days. The back of the house leans over the bluff and high tide. Pebbles riprapping down the cliff side where it rarely rains. |
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aussiedave
Swinger
Australia
509 Posts |
Posted - 06/20/2014 : 00:48:46
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oh Sirius
how you shine
brighter than a million stars
reds and blues
yellows and greens,
so young, oh so
young,
your inner beauty
always shined through,
in your laugh, your smile
and especially through your eyes,
the two of us,
oh sirius
you are a constant reminder
of another time,
another place,
another universe,
all the night stars
whisper still,
recall
a constellation of
sweet memories.
aldebaran,
a fading sirius,
so much brighter than this blue earth,
you captured my heart,
my soul,
you enveloped my flesh,
your subtle
brilliance,
a quiet incandescence,
you kept me
captive,
made me pursue you,
touch you,
love you,
we are one,
aldebaran,
I seek you,
but you are not there,
so mysterious,
hidden,
a black-hole shadows
your beauty,
come out from within.
sirius and aldebaran,
shining
each side
of the saucepan
in the night sky,
the two beautiful ones.
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2154 Posts |
Posted - 06/27/2014 : 16:23:32
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| Memories of waving from platforms. Skyloft's trolley muse knitting. Her colorful yarns, heathered and warm. You in this world. Breathing. |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2154 Posts |
Posted - 06/28/2014 : 17:54:52
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| The shop was called Dodi's Coffee &. Six crowded stools at a corner counter. The coffee was syrup, the eggs over-easy, the burgers medium-well. Sometimes the pie was cherry. Most times there was no pie. Year-round Christmas-lit TAKE IT OR LEAVE IT sign over the grill. Dodi was Army. A nurse in Vietnam before she opened shop on "Vertigo Hill." She'd show up with her fly-away hair before seven on a 10-speed Gitane named Ali. Short for alimony. Backpack and market sack stuffed with addictive wool. Cold quilted-fog mornings the Vets on the hill wore black knit caps with a slash of "...pick yer poison..." (color). |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2154 Posts |
Posted - 06/30/2014 : 21:20:51
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Friday night at Sunset Retirement. "...came early to bark up the wrong tree and forgot my Marlboro's," Chloe says, perfect posture remembering him. A ballerina's hands resting on her lap. "I could have been a Prima but I had too much chest... Nothing to do for it then..." She's regal remembering. "...he sang these words to me, "...here come the stars now, Lady. Night lights the chandeliers envy..." I take a deep breath. I see Marco and Robber cutting slices of Friday cake. Sunset still five miles and five minutes away.
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This moment and every moment lasts forever. - Kurt Vonnegut |
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Joe Z
Windchimer
USA
1819 Posts |
Posted - 07/03/2014 : 06:27:11
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"It is impossible to discourage the real writers - they don't give a damn what you say, they're going to write."
Sinclair Lewis
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San Diego
Swinger
508 Posts |
Posted - 07/03/2014 : 18:21:26
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| How's the real writing (#2) coming along for you? I have new reading glasses. Love you, Joe. |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2154 Posts |
Posted - 07/03/2014 : 18:36:06
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| From the start they were haunted. Demons trying to keep them on their knees. There are places... Not in or out of this world. Once you leave you wont be able to find your way back. You'll go to the County Office. You'll bribe the addicted clerks with coffee gift cards. They so want to help you. "Well, maybe... Turn left at the three big trees..." Stained-glass panorama. "Does the floor feel tilted to you?..." Ethereal Mulholland. |
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aussiedave
Swinger
Australia
509 Posts |
Posted - 07/10/2014 : 01:51:13
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| he was born in the summer of 1951............ |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2154 Posts |
Posted - 07/14/2014 : 20:51:40
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| So now you're walking where your heart is. Your boots coming down in the Biblical dust like prophesy. Or music. Broken sticks of lightning at the Café Lupe where her apron's on fire. Her scarlet slip showing through. Red satin. Crimson ribbon in your hands. |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2154 Posts |
Posted - 07/16/2014 : 17:50:49
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Slow-motion days south of the border soaking up the sun. Easel at the railing on the sky-high patio. He painted pictures. He covered the walls with them. He spoke before he opened his eyes in the morning. In the evening he stood beside her waiting for sunset and the veritable green flash.
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In the painting he has her leaning over the mineral Bay to acrobatic birds growing bolder. Something always flying close-by. His quick-stroke Summer boats in the harbor make it look like a holiday. |
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The Nightly Vigil