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Ailinn
Windchimer

2155 Posts

Posted - 02/26/2020 :  17:09:04  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
"White pictures..." he says. "Snow in the air and on the Avenue," she says. Newspaper stuffed in the windows. The studio cold. Too many clothes on the rack. A long day with the light manufactured. 'The LOOK now, kid,' Ted shouts. He tosses a Sky Bar and sets the coffeepot on the hot plate. Deadline lunch. We'll be many people today. Like those nomads off Revolución," she says. "Shapeshifters all." "Other lives..." he says. "Don't let them get in the way."

Edited by - Ailinn on 03/21/2020 19:41:44
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2155 Posts

Posted - 02/29/2020 :  19:14:30  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Puzzle on the table. Bluedark sky. Corner pieces missing. Scattered world full of holes. She burns little bundles of white sage in abalone bowls. Tosses the ashes to the wind. Sweeps the threshold and listens to the sand-blown road. Glass beads shiver in the window. Tiny flasks of faceted light. His wet canvases glisten down the hall.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2155 Posts

Posted - 02/29/2020 :  19:20:38  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
"Talk about this now," he says with the brush between his teeth. Moon climbing higher over his cameo town. Peach to pearl to silver. The house all knee braces and corbels. "Gonna wake up some midnight, know what I'm sayin... That's the plan," he says, "...the bright one that's moving."

Edited by - Ailinn on 07/29/2020 18:59:32
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2155 Posts

Posted - 02/29/2020 :  19:28:56  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
When I turn six my father buys me a pair of saddle shoes. White and brown leather with bubblegum-pink soles. And a little wooden box to shine them. I polish them every night. Careful not to get the brown on the white. Brigid says God doesn't approve of "street shoes" at Mass and insists I wear Maryjanes. God doesn't care, I tell her. God walks barefoot on the clouds. "Stubborn girl!" she scolds. Brigid wears silent brown oxfords so you can't hear her coming. "Laugh before breakfast. Cry before dinner," she says. I wear them anyway.

Edited by - Ailinn on 03/21/2020 19:38:39
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2155 Posts

Posted - 02/29/2020 :  19:36:01  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
"...banged over all up an' down... Fightin' days. What you run to or away from. Sooooo... Talk to me," he says. "Jus' think out loud.." "When I was a girl I practiced kissing on the back of my hand," she says, and he laughs. His journey-bound profile. His soft leather jacket on the back of the chair when the bubble glides to the center of the level.
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2819 Posts

Posted - 03/06/2020 :  10:33:12  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
"Rev, Any place you land is a good place. Even if the beach is fog-bound. Even if you don't know where you're touching the ground. It's not drifting out that's dangerous. The tide will bring you back in. It's not knowing where the bottom is. Churning in the wave. Trying to get enough breath before you're caught in the next one. The board is attached to your ankle with a leash. It floats. It can also hit you in the head. The trick is knowing when to kick free. Today's surf was choppy. Paddle out, snap up, ride in quick. Or wipe out and eat some sand. Some days you eat a lot of sand. " Ailinn


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Ailinn
Windchimer

2155 Posts

Posted - 03/06/2020 :  17:12:01  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
March 6, 2020

Surf report for Swami's
Air 63,water 60
Full wets recommended
8mph gentle, onshore
First light 5:43am (foggy)
Sunrise 6:07am (foggy)
Sunset 5:52pm
Last light 6:16pm

All that changes Sunday.

Dear Reverend B,
No matter how much sand you eat the goal is to stay in that rolling green room. Fingers are brakes, remember.
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2819 Posts

Posted - 03/07/2020 :  16:27:54  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Manana and Manana

1)
Tomorrow I will quit drinking
I always told her
But tomorrow never came.

Now it is here and
She is gone.
Alone now with my precious whiskey
Yes, alone in the back of the saloon
In the dark

How does one live Artistically
with a green bottle?
How does one dance a
Newbury Waltz with a
only a memory?

There will be some
Bullet holes in the ceiling
Come morning...

2)
It has been a long night.
I watch the crow as it watches me.

He is waiting for me
To show desperation
But it is not
Going to happen.

I have been down this road before and
I know that the water is
Just ahead.
As long as the fire still
Burns I will have a chance.

Some nights last forever.....



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Ailinn
Windchimer

2155 Posts

Posted - 03/07/2020 :  17:16:42  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
...and some dreams never die.
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2819 Posts

Posted - 03/17/2020 :  12:03:28  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
https://youtu.be/YOwNHlS27Xk


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Ailinn
Windchimer

2155 Posts

Posted - 03/21/2020 :  17:37:45  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Her startled fingertips. So foreign. So familiar. Dim dream. Shining recognition. The flood book with its pages stuck together. Tsunami bookplate still intact. Wave all stars and wonder when he walks in. Sky alive with shore birds cries. The Ark in shallow water. A hundred smash cuts that summer. Snowy egrets in the lagoon. Long weekends. On Tuesday he takes her mind apart.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2155 Posts

Posted - 03/21/2020 :  18:44:15  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
"Iron fences in little church yards," she says. "Stone walls and itinerant angels. A chandeliered ballroom with cheeky waiters. Wavy hair falling in their faces. Musical laughter when they terrify me with demon tales. "The blood's mortal plight..." says Dairmuid, the boldest of three. "Death's greedy fingers. Banshees behind your door. Far Darrig under your bed." They hide their teeth in glee and horror. When I wake in the middle of the night I'm afraid to put my feet on the floor. In their crisp white shirts and long black aprons I'm fervently devoted to them." You nod. Late nights. Lights from the boat on the water.

Edited by - Ailinn on 07/25/2020 18:13:08
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2155 Posts

Posted - 03/22/2020 :  18:10:14  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
"Apparition," he winks. "But how...?" she asks. "Shhh...he says, "...a secret." Mischief alive when he raises his eyebrows. The fire in stained glass. The transparent tablecloth's sun-pierced weave. Light lifting the edges making it appear to move. Up close she can see places where he touched the canvas. His fingerprints where the brush wasn't enough.
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2819 Posts

Posted - 03/22/2020 :  19:41:30  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Since we may die soon anyway, and I can’t get eggs or potatoes, I made a milkshake with chocolate milk and Haagen Daz vanilla bean ice cream for breakfast.
It was so good i almost fainted.


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buckman
Firefly

USA
2819 Posts

Posted - 03/22/2020 :  19:43:41  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
It's a Helluva thing,
Infantile paralysis of the soul
Hardening of the hearteries
Fear in the dead of nite
so real it has teeth.

Immunity temporarily misplaced
Drastic change daily.
Pendulums fight for the last spot on stage.
Terry cloth cavaliers catch lost generations.
Home on the range on the carnival calliope.
Many rivers crossed but still swimming.

Do ya
do ya
do ya
wanna dance
under the moonlight?


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Ailinn
Windchimer

2155 Posts

Posted - 04/02/2020 :  16:09:34  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
See that silver lining
That's where the sun is shining
As sure as there is a heaven
There will be a brighter day
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2155 Posts

Posted - 04/05/2020 :  16:36:34  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Where is he going? Where has he been? Rush of leaves on the ground. Stinging rain. She opens the door to him wet on the deck. Steps aside when he walks in. He's in the parlor with the poker in his hand. Rearranging logs on the grate. Turning his pockets out on the table as if he were finally home. "Come closer," he says. Or she does.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2155 Posts

Posted - 04/05/2020 :  16:40:46  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
"Bits of dreams scraping our cheeks," he says in the first high loft kitchen. Food on a painted tray with lacquered green leaves. Back and forth from the sideboard to the deck. And up to stars burning in little cups too bright to look at directly.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2155 Posts

Posted - 04/11/2020 :  10:33:39  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
There's a sanitarium on the island behind a stone wall and leafy trees. The stones fallen away in places big enough to crawl through. The "guests" rock on porches. Their faces to the sun sipping tea. Day after day a woman with a crown of white braids in the corner chair. On her lap a book of never-turned pages. I want a bee to startle her. I want to see her jump up alive. Her long hair come undone. I want them all to stand up and start clapping.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2155 Posts

Posted - 04/11/2020 :  16:35:14  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
"...stunned by the swiftness of the world," she says. "Indelible images. Ruched satin lining so perfect on the lids of my parents last bed. Angels rushing through closing doors. No figs on the table. No warm milk in a bone china cup. A narrow bed without linens because I refuse to say my prayers in French. Rice on the floor. Little divots in my knees. Bless their holy hearts. How they try to save me. And I'm grateful. Fistful of Mission Box money. My thumb out beside a long road. "What were you thinking then? Tell me," he says leaning in, his knees touching hers. "A train station village. A long ride to where. I was thinking of soup," she says. "Three new dollar bills in my pocket."

Edited by - Ailinn on 04/11/2020 23:20:44
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