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buckman
Firefly

USA
2818 Posts

Posted - 02/19/2005 :  07:35:32  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Of Boots and Wild Places

Sitting in the rain
On that beach near Salinas
Wondring if the rain
Had come to clean us
Livin on the road
Somewhere I'd heard
Would make me free and clean
And sing like a bird
But all I felt
On that foggy beach
Was dirty and tired
My dreams out of reach

Four times in boots
And one time in barefeet
I crossed America's highways
And sampled her best treats
So many tales
That I never could tell
But some still stand out
Like a clear ringing bell

The old Hell's Angel
Named Elvin Preacher
Who howled at the moon
The night I nearly died there
That spring Big Sur
Was all caves and dog days
I lived with the bikers
And learned some bad ways
The nights in the Canyon
When I was afraid
And God's sweet Angel
Who came when I prayed
The houses and the homes
And those who took me in
Never knew the fear
Never guessed my Sin


It seemed some times
Friends were many and free
But on that rainy beach
I was just left with me
I ran free and hard
For over three seasons
But staring at that sand
I'd forgotten the reasons

Why did I run
And why did I bother
Then came a child
To call me his father
But I kept on running
While standing in place
And today all I wish
Is to see his sweet face
I'd teach him of the road
And the wild places
The gentle hearts
And the smiling faces
I'd show him of the fruit
That I had tasted
And how so much of it
I had selfishly wasted
And when it's all over
And I see that light
I want him to know
That I did some things right

We come in poor
And we leave as a debtor
All we can hope
Is we made the world better....


Hank Beukema

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Ailinn
Windchimer

2154 Posts

Posted - 02/19/2005 :  17:05:54  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Keep drivin' Preacherman. 'Tis pleasure to share a page.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2154 Posts

Posted - 02/19/2005 :  17:07:54  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Something else I remembered about the orphanage... If any Bakery trucks crashed in town they sent us the donuts and pastry. This happened more often than you might imagine. Mostly on Sundays.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2154 Posts

Posted - 02/19/2005 :  17:17:17  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
The sun rises in the East and appears twice looking in through the window. The second time it jumps on the bed and scorches the sheets. "Wake up!" it shouts in a voice that leaps and crackles. Over the western sea the sky refuses to open. He moans. He pulls the covers over their heads. The eucalyptic air swirls in. No matter where they fall asleep, they wake up close to the Border. Their new names are intent on pushing them over a cliff fringed with early Palo Verde. Waves crashing below. The tide rising in rapt anticipation. The back and front of the sky still at a stand-off.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2154 Posts

Posted - 02/20/2005 :  21:11:04  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
"...nothing can harm you...
...close your eyes...
...dream and fly..."

~Mickey Newbury~
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2154 Posts

Posted - 02/22/2005 :  19:47:49  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Clotted clouds. Like bruises. Everyday. Clotted clouds dream-riddled and the moon's slanted silver. "Time to hit the High Tide Cafe," he finally tells her. She remembers a frontage road. Near the beach lined with palm trees. A four-sided clock tower. Pushing time against the sky. She remembers. Drinking coffee on the hood of his car at 3am. He said they'd have forever. She said they'd need longer than that. And a fool-proof plan of escape. A blue night spreading across the windshield when they fled through the world of run-away truck ramps. The dash splashed with county-long sunsets and stars. His hand on her knee. An alibi on the radio.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2154 Posts

Posted - 02/24/2005 :  19:32:31  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Cars parked every which way on the shoulder of the dangerous Del Dios Highway. Windshield wipers whipping away. Waiting for the Dam at Lake Hodges to spill. First time in seven years. The lake was on its way to becoming a tree farm. A cheer went up when the show started. The water broke free. No longer trapped or lonesome. West of the Dam it surged downhill toward home some twenty miles away. The shining Pacific Ocean. The CHP stayed busy. Trying to keep traffic moving, and disperse the cheering, honking crowd. Crying out over their loudspeakers, "Tow trucks are on the way!" Hot Dam!
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2154 Posts

Posted - 02/25/2005 :  22:34:41  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
We've got hot-petaled poppies nodding under all the retro-fitted bridges. Serape colors of the sun. Finally blazing on today's opening flowers. Workers picking strawberries in five inches of standing rain. Aqua and yellow slickers laying empty on the ground. Oh, delusional sunshine. In our town the cliff came down on La Costa Avenue. (Now closed.) Slid into Batiquitos Lagoon at the Braided Pepper Flower and Produce Stand. Operating for over 40 years. A longer way around to the beach now. For two days all construction stopped. Us too. The clean, clear air trembled waiting for the big diesel cats to roar. To slice up the profit pie.

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Ailinn
Windchimer

2154 Posts

Posted - 02/26/2005 :  13:16:10  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Chloe had a sense of style when she waitressed. She brought class to the Diner with those handkerchiefs pinned to her breast pocket. White handkerchiefs with tatted edges in rainbow colors. Lavender for Monday. Saturday was red. And for holidays she found this sparkley thread. Soon we all took up the hankie habit. They looked like prom orchids sittin' up on our chests. Cora Jeanne perfumed hers but that only lasted 'til noon when Rudy who drove the big rigs for Southwest Trucking said, "Cora girl, get your Evening In Paris outta my meatloaf and 'taters, please!" They was sparkin' each other so she didn't take no offense. Then Chloe came up with the hat trick thing. Little fanned paper tiaras that made us look like queens. The tips went up, and the cook took to wearin' clean jeans. Chloe's lifetime love was Mortimer. 'Morty-face', she called him. She'd run her pearl-painted fingernails through tufts of white hair whispering around his earlobes. They'd go to the Firehouse Saturday nights and eat roast beef suppers. "Roast beast," Mortimer called it, "hahaha!" They'd both dress-up fine. Chloe in her satin blouse and fringed leather vest, and Mortimer in his fresh, Chloe-laundered shirt. Chloe pushed starch to the next generation. That shirt stood up by itself. "Man, I could cut myself on this!" Mortimer said fussin' with the buttons. He wore a bolo tie with a big chunk of turquois and polished boots. They sure had a high time together. More 'an thirty years ago. When Mortimer passed, Chloe went over to the Home. Then that young singer feller came by. You know, the one who used to sit in the corner booth drinkin' coffee and smokin' cigarettes. He had that beat-up brown satchel full of writin' papers he's spread all over the table. Saw him waitin' in the Lobby lookin' out through the big picture window where Chloe was takin' the sun. "Hurts me to see her like that," he said. "All closed up in her nightie...no shoulders. Bothers me nobody comes to see her," he said. I clearly remember him sayin' that. And the pained look in his eyes. "You did," I said. "Yeah, well," he said, and followed the attendent down the hall. They got on real swell, though. An' he took to stoppin' in every other week. Brought his guitar sometimes. Yeah. You'd hear them both laughin'. He sang about the weather alot. Sunshine and rain. Oh, what was his name? Shoot! It's right on the tip of my tongue. Blue eyes he had. Truly blue.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2154 Posts

Posted - 02/27/2005 :  18:57:30  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
A woman steps out of Adam. She stretches her arms above her head. Her fingernails rake the sky. Contrails on the beginning blue. "Pixels," God says, able to see the big picture. She shakes out her long, damp hair. The ground around her brightens. The sun shines down. Her eyes fix on a dark figure moving. She recognizes the shadow as her own. Adam moans. She's curious. She squats down beside him sleeping. His even breathing, a nuanced music in her ear. She places her hand on the wound beside his heart. His breath deepens to a sigh. His eyes stay covered. At the edge of The Garden, part forest, part jungle, part National Park Reserve, she unbraids the lassoed vines and slips into the leaves. Adam awakens. Shakes his head and rubs the sand from his eyes. He sees the footprints. Smaller than his own. He stands. He moves toward the sharp-edged green.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2154 Posts

Posted - 03/02/2005 :  20:29:23  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Birds were up early. Ravens and crows. The difference being one pinion feather. Or, "a matter of a pinion," as my neighbor, Ray, an avid birdwatcher loves to say. All falling up arguing with the sky. And the wind was so busy. And the sun's spangled light. Inventing new shadows where it finally touched down. Birds of a feather not all the same. Water skiing. Some slipping in fast-footed landings. Others, timid on tiny hinged hydraulic legs. All this happening in bright sunshine. After nine inches of rain.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2154 Posts

Posted - 03/02/2005 :  20:39:49  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
When I was a child I lived in a wet City. Special clothes for weather. Red Riding Hood Cape. Only blue. Hidden pockets for secrets and charms. Cloudy marbles called Queen of Peru. Then the curtain came down on that life. Circumstance made me prematurely observant and on guard. A finger in the dike kind of mind. Now my charms are in two carved wooden boxes. And my secrets, well... I gave them to you. View from my slow stained glass window tonight. Moon just a little present in the sky. Caught deep in the warp and weave of it.
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2818 Posts

Posted - 03/04/2005 :  21:27:05  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
It is 30 degrees, but it is almost Spring in the Hudson Valley...
I can almost smell it coming...

I ride NorthEast for many days
Where to be October
Means something...
Where I ran and fished and hunted
As a child and learned the ways
Of the woods and of the Great One...
The trees are aflame in
Their private moondance of fire...
Against the blue of My Hudson
Reflecting the cliff faces of Storm King
It plays the illusion the Old Ones called
Riverdeep mountainhigh...
I smile to think of my Other family
Now gone on high that walked this riverbank
With me so long ago...
They were so like the October trees,
Aflame and dancing with color and
Great beauty just before their private
Winter came and turned them gray...

In the creeping darkness,
I whisper a prayer
That they would
greet me in the spring
As the trees will,
Reborn and ready
For another fling
Around the Dancefloor...

Rev Buckman

http://members.tripod.com/buckmaniac/index.htm
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2154 Posts

Posted - 03/04/2005 :  22:31:37  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Sandpipers are sleeping. Somnambulistic gulls. Folks raising their hands in slow motion. Surreal greetings. As if in a dream. "Imagination," he says walking backward down the beach. Their bare feet leaving slight depressions in fog-damp sand. "Door to the right or wrong dark," he says. "My kitchen is too full of chores to practice virtue," she says. Her cupboards lined with ocean-polished stones and seashells. Currency for the next world. When the wave closes out and washes into white water his quirky, obstinate magic appears. Oh, dream-riddled nights. Morning webs in the jasmine.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2154 Posts

Posted - 03/05/2005 :  18:13:27  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
She replaces her pictures on WANTED posters. This keeps him off-guard for a while. But she runs out of pictures. She runs out of time. She starts falling toward him. He comes with his heart full of coincidence. He whispers love in her ear. His name is a password through a six-century locked door. Beyond his ship the sea stays silver. Above, the blushing sky fills with the sun's exotic light. On shore, a house with a thatched-roof porch. Seven slanting stairs built into a slipping cliff. DANGER, the signs say. KEEP AWAY. She sails into his safe-harbor embrace. The bed blocked in moonlight. The baskets of pyramid stars.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2154 Posts

Posted - 03/05/2005 :  18:14:49  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
"...and the wands came to the great hall of Tara..."
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Randy Brown
Rocker

USA
185 Posts

Posted - 03/05/2005 :  18:47:23  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
My mockingbird came back this week, but he didn't have a song for me this year. He has come back every Spring now for almost 6 years, usually on the first warm day and sat on the electric pole outside my shop and gone through his new repertoire until I come out and chastize him for his loudness. I got on him for coming back to soon anyway and it seemed to cheer him up some. I don't know how he knows that first day of warm days, but he does. He flew right over my head and landed in the hackberry tree by my studio and let me slowly approach him to a distance of about 3 feet. He eyed me with first his left eye, then the right like he was asking the question, why is it so cold. It's supposed to be Spring. Maybe he knows the world is somehow moving out of it's delicate balance these days. Perhaps the weather is acting up where he spends the winter too. It was good to see a friend that cold Thursday, even if he wasn't happy enough to sing. I talked to him a while about the state of things and how crazy the weather seemed to be all over the world and he nodded his gray head in agreement and flew----- North?
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Jonmark
Windchimer

USA
1791 Posts

Posted - 03/05/2005 :  20:51:46  Show Profile  Visit Jonmark's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Beautiful snapshot there, Randy.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2154 Posts

Posted - 03/08/2005 :  18:56:28  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
See the compass on the counter still journeying on its own. The maelstrom in the garbage disposal seconds away from slipping all that sweetness down the drain. He likes the oranges freshly squeezed and knows the difference. She takes his ecstasy for granted. With the coffee and the eggs. With the bacon's sputtering conversation. With the buttered toast and jam. Kitchen music. Standard miracles everyday. His voice entreating. "Let yourself be backed into the corner you're trying to stay away from," he says. His nodding profiles grinning through the steam.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2154 Posts

Posted - 03/08/2005 :  22:09:56  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
"Answered prayers. Happy day. Nothing can harm you. Dream now."
~MSN~
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