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Ailinn
Windchimer
2197 Posts |
 Posted - 01/14/2006 : 14:54:39
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| We're making Paella for Ralph and Catherine's one year Anniversary. A traditional dish with chicken and chorizo, shrimps and clams and mussels, saffron and fat lemon wedges. Cooked outside in huge cast iron pans. January 22nd is their day, but they'll be away cruising Mazatlan and Acapulco, so the party is tonight. A sunset affair. Mirella's fixing Fruta del Fuego with her secret Mayan Mystery Sauce. Cilantro, jalapenos, hot chili oil, and a firey mango marmalade she brushes on the fruit just before grilling. I know the ingredients, but I don't know the exact amounts. Critical for perfect results. Lupe read about a new market that sells ice sculptures for her Sangria centerpiece and Stu is there now. "Your choices are...dolphins, sailboat, cupid with wings, or two lop-sided hearts entwined," he tells her on the phone. "The hearts and cupid say Be My Valentine, but they'll saw that off for free." Stu is for dolphins. Lupe says, "Hearts." We need 20 inches of cubic space in the freezer, so it's chaos in the kitchen either way. We've got our blow torches ready for the Caramel Flan, Ralph and Catherine's favorite. "Get the Fire Department on speed-dial. Light the lanterns and crank up the patio hearters. Sure, we're weather wimps," Mirella says, "but our blood IS thin as WATER!" It's a cold 60 degrees in San Diego. Hooray for 24 minutes of sunlight. Happy Anniversary, Mr. & Mrs. Ralph Gardner! |
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Doug L
Firefly
Canada
5446 Posts |
Posted - 01/18/2006 : 10:41:59
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I ask Rahsaan for the word of the day.
"Attachment," he says, eyebrows light.
"It is centrifugal to soul. In its sway, twin sentries
of belief and judgment, triggers of separation."
His eyes wide, I wait, knowing there is more.
"The brightest threads are taken from the basic cloth,
where they most belong. Rainbows call the police every day
to report a missing colour."
Rahsaan's wife has asked him to plan a trip with her,
claiming he is attached to his garden. So this is how
attachment came to be the word, I say.
"Where to go?," he winks. "Heaven is here."
visit http://www.betterdaysradio.blogspot.com |
Edited by - Doug L on 01/18/2006 10:43:13 |
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Bob C
Swinger
USA
1147 Posts |
Posted - 01/18/2006 : 14:03:41
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It is here...!!!
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Doug L
Firefly
Canada
5446 Posts |
Posted - 01/18/2006 : 16:20:42
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All who seek you
rest you.
And those who find you
bind you to image and gesture.
I would rather sense you
as the earth senses you.
In my ripening
ripens
what you are.
I need from you no tricks
to prove you exist.
Time, I know,
is other than you.
No miracles, please.
Just let your laws
become clearer
from generation to generation.
-Rainer Maria Rilke,
Book of Hours
visit http://www.betterdaysradio.blogspot.com |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2197 Posts |
Posted - 01/18/2006 : 19:30:17
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...blues-moanin' wind through the eaves, Baby.
A ghost singin' in the trees... |
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booty
Sitter
USA
93 Posts |
Posted - 01/20/2006 : 22:25:06
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To penetrate more deeply
One finds there is no difference
Between stupidity and wisdom...
In our differences we are unique.
Booty
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Joey L.
Swinger
USA
1383 Posts |
Posted - 01/20/2006 : 22:29:07
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Like the reference in the dictionary. There is only one word that should always appear in quotation marks " " ...
That is the word ... "Normal".
The Future's Not ... |
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Doug L
Firefly
Canada
5446 Posts |
Posted - 01/26/2006 : 00:21:30
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MY MOSES
Time to praise the other Moses, the one who concludes
That the bush isn't really burning, as he first supposed,
Just backlit in red by the setting sun.
Magnified by the need of a runaway to be pardoned,
To pull his shoes off and receive a vision.
The Moses who, when he lifts his staff,
Can't part the waters, who has to wade in
At low tide and hope for the best.
Nobody drowns. Nobody's following. The twelve tribes,
Sluggish after a hard day in the quarries,
Didn't find his lecture on the virtues inspiring.
And Pharoah was willing to see him go.
Good riddance, what with his praise of creation
That gouged the work month with holidays.
Now he's wringing his clothes out on the other side,
Relieved it hasn't taken him any longer to realize
He isn't much of a prophet, that he hasn't the gift.
Free now of the journey to the Promised Land
And the wars with the natives, he can settle down at once
Whenever he pleases, and be happy even here
In the country that disappointed Columbus.
That wasn't the hoped-for shortcut to spices.
Happy even on this block of mine, my neighbor,
A civics teacher at the high school,
Who leaves the gate to his yard unlocked
So the neighborhood children can pick the berries
Before the first frost comes and leaf smoke rises
From small, mute fires he's lit himself.
Carl Dennis
visit http://www.betterdaysradio.blogspot.com |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2197 Posts |
Posted - 01/29/2006 : 17:43:22
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| The sun's abundant light flares on the pane. His fine, fantastic mind dances. "That's the plan, baby. 'Cause the pictures jus' too big to see. Pixels. Remember that!" he says. Her hijacked heart in his black leather satchel. Her counterfeit pen marking ten thousand dreams. Already Out Bail Bonds on speed dial. Last seen in the rear-view mirror. The moon lay down spread-eagle on the ground. |
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Karen Runk
Firefly
USA
4925 Posts |
Posted - 01/29/2006 : 18:33:47
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quote:
Originally posted by Ailinn
Intermission. I can hear them shouting on the hill. Merciful. Not killing. Human hair and Kitty Litter. Showing up in garbage bags by our blue front door. To foil the gophers. "Cute little things," I mistakenly say. "Never should have let you see them," Stu says. "War is war."
NO NO NO NO......try another flavor of gum.
Karen Runk |
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aussiedave
Swinger
Australia
509 Posts |
Posted - 01/30/2006 : 01:34:10
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you're in my blood
like holy wine
you taste so bitter
and so sweet
oh I could drink
a case of you,darlin'
and I would still
be on my
feet
I would still
be on my feet
..Joni Mitchell.
Maybe,the sun won't shine
maybe,the stars won't mind
for every dream
I dream is sure to not
come true
cause baby, I never did love you....
..Mickey Newbury
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2197 Posts |
Posted - 01/31/2006 : 20:31:46
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| The Fortune Teller lights one white candle. Shuffles the over-size deck of cards borrowed from The Last Magician. "Tis little things that matter," he says, releasing two snow-white doves from his black satin sleeves. Making silver dollars appear and disappear in mid-air. Down the sand-blown road the coast curves to gilded water. His dark sails mystery when he slips through the fog. Salt settling in his heavy hair. |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2197 Posts |
Posted - 02/01/2006 : 21:42:55
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| "If you're a bartender in an upscale place you fall in love with glass," he says. This Antonio. King of the 20 dollar Cadillac Margarita. His business card reads, "World Traveler." Cuba was his latest place. A short walk downtown through an aisle of trees. Through the cold stars isolation. His blood, thin as water. His smile, pencil-thin. On the other side of the fog he says, "This is how we study History." He reaches for the top-shelf tequila. Stu's family arrives tomorrow. Marathon cooking begins. |
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Doug L
Firefly
Canada
5446 Posts |
Posted - 02/02/2006 : 00:43:27
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I don't like this world a lot as others move to claim it
There's another place I know and take the time to name it
A realm of soul, invisible, evasive, shadow bound
Some say it's in the air we breathe, I say it's in the ground
Like coins that wait for digging, our forgotten histories
Where earthworms shine the silver of our oldest mysteries
Not to see, but feel again, the spirit that prevails
Welcomed back by valkyries with dirty fingernails
DL
visit http://www.betterdaysradio.blogspot.com |
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Doug L
Firefly
Canada
5446 Posts |
Posted - 02/02/2006 : 21:20:26
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GOOD ROOM
In this best room, only a kitchen,
touch cloth -- in towels -- touch
metal stove, wooden cupboards.
Look down the breadboard: scars
time never needs to overcome.
The easy refrigerator door closes like this:
"Forgive." Inside, a light goes to sleep
comfortably, friend of lettuce, admired
by the eggs; and the meditative motor
suggests winter, then pauses all night.
Room that gives life, alone with independent
spices content just to be in their jars:
while we live may your way be ours.
May we never forget your order, the various
world brought by recipes to anyone's taste --
The work of many made into one home.
--William Stafford
Lake Oswego, Oregon
visit http://www.betterdaysradio.blogspot.com |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2197 Posts |
Posted - 02/02/2006 : 21:21:13
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"...Angels guard your every moment. Soooo... Close your sleepy eyes and...dream."
~Mickey Newbury~
"...A little hello from the voids..."
~Carl Dennis~ |
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Doug L
Firefly
Canada
5446 Posts |
Posted - 02/07/2006 : 00:41:43
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I was listening to Krista Detor of Indiana, her new album, Mudshow.
Listening to her voice, two words come to mind: kahlua and cello.
As the last song ends and the echo of her words, "Glory, sister,
glory..." decays to silence, I see a long wood-paneled hallway
alight with candles. There are mirrors, too, and a ricochet of
reflections making it impossible to know how many candles there
are. At the far end of the hallway, a door is open, and through
it I can see the chalk-blue light of the moon in the fields beyond.
visit http://www.betterdaysradio.blogspot.com |
Edited by - Doug L on 02/07/2006 00:42:11 |
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Doug L
Firefly
Canada
5446 Posts |
Posted - 02/07/2006 : 22:14:06
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At the farm off McKenzie Highway, the old motorhome sleeps,
windows steamed as though there's still a warm breath inside,
seeds homesteading in the crack in the door jamb dirt.
Tires going flat, it snuggles into the barn's back wall.
Light streams careen above us on the road, people heading home.
visit http://www.betterdaysradio.blogspot.com |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2197 Posts |
Posted - 02/09/2006 : 21:09:17
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| "I live on the Rincon," Yolanda says. "Three driveways past the Chairman." "How long you been out there?" Ramon asks. Thinking of Bob Limping Bear. The Tribal Chairman. And Bobby White Sox. His second in command. Three of his ex's not welcome at the Casino. Three sad stories running up tabs around town. |
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Doug L
Firefly
Canada
5446 Posts |
Posted - 02/10/2006 : 22:21:43
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FOR ANNE
With Annie gone,
Whose eyes to compare
With the morning sun?
Not that I did compare,
But I do compare
Now that she's gone.
* * * * *
AS THE MIST LEAVES NO SCAR
As the mist leaves no scar
On the dark green hill,
So my body leaves no scar
On you, nor ever will.
When wind and hawk encounter,
What remains to keep?
So you and I encounter,
Then turn, then fall to sleep.
As many nights endure
Without a moon or star,
So will we endure
When one is gone and far.
-Leonard Cohen
from The Spice-Box Of Earth (1961)
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Edited by - Doug L on 02/10/2006 22:22:27 |
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The Nightly Vigil