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Ailinn
Windchimer
2154 Posts |
 Posted - 08/23/2009 : 16:29:23
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| Santa Ana in a vacant parking lot. The Cloud 9 Shuttle arrives on time with its cheery sunshine and palm tree logo. NO RESERVATIONS NEEDED in Cloud-9-Blue letters on either side. The Driver's cap at a jaunty angle, hanging on the rear view mirror. He ignores the fern-like flames twining around her ankles. He reaches through the open door and pulls her up the WATCH YOUR STEP stairs. She's fishing through her pockets for the fare she can't afford. Fire engines wailing up and down the Coast Highway. |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2154 Posts |
Posted - 08/23/2009 : 16:32:30
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| "The spread-open fan of memory..." he says. "Fragrant jasmine in the courtyard. Pointy stars. And you...waking up from your drama-full dreams. High cheekbones and stuck-up nose, hahaha..." |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2154 Posts |
Posted - 08/23/2009 : 16:35:21
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| Like Baum's Bazaar on the prairie. Finger bowls and silver call bells...salt cellars and their magic like. What was it he said?... "Now we can cross the Shifting Sands..." |
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Doug L
Firefly
Canada
5446 Posts |
Posted - 08/23/2009 : 21:44:53
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SONG
A rowan like a lipsticked girl.
Between the by-road and the main road
Alder trees at a wet and dripping distance
Stand off among the rushes.
There are the mud-flowers of dialect
And the immortelles of perfect pitch
And that moment when the bird sings very close
To the music of what happens.
Seamus Heaney |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2154 Posts |
Posted - 08/24/2009 : 18:36:23
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We still believe what we hear.
Seamus Heaney |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2154 Posts |
Posted - 08/24/2009 : 18:55:41
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| Doug, did you happen to bump into Anna Livia Plurabelle on your strolls beside the Liffy in Dublin town? |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2154 Posts |
Posted - 08/26/2009 : 21:41:08
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| He owns a tugboat company. Works for Scripps oceanography. "Cream," he calls that job. Doesn't want fish in his design. Wants music. "Take your time," he says, "I want it to be..." He looks back to shore. To the house with sunshine splashed on all the windows. "...magic." He's headed out to sea to pull the Broken Brick in. At 50 miles there's epic fog. Low skies with wailing birds cries. Salt mist air...a holy presence. They'll have to move fast, he knows. Pirates and sailors. Renegade saints. Love's homeless refugees. Accomplices on this journey. |
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San Diego
Swinger
508 Posts |
Posted - 08/29/2009 : 17:59:51
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| "Two tin cans...and...a thousand miles of string..." |
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Doug L
Firefly
Canada
5446 Posts |
Posted - 08/30/2009 : 01:09:50
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My last night there, Ailinn, after dinner with Christy, he drove us
to Phoenix Park and then over to Chapelizod. We crossed the bridge
that is called Anna Livia, or Droichead Abhainn na Life. It was
renamed on the 100th anniversary of Joyce's birth. Frank Harte,
the great ballad collector and a dear friend of Christy's, lived
in Chapelizod.
http://www.time.com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,925569-1,00.html |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2154 Posts |
Posted - 08/30/2009 : 15:48:00
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| Doug, I liked her limbs and high forehead in the fountain, but I don't know where she rests now. That whole bunch from the Wake, though...they're all waiting for us at the big table. |
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Doug L
Firefly
Canada
5446 Posts |
Posted - 08/30/2009 : 20:47:29
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I found the best way to read Joyce was to drink one shot
of Jameson's per page. It took me about three years to
finish Finnegans Wake. By then I'd learned to walk on glass. |
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Doug L
Firefly
Canada
5446 Posts |
Posted - 08/30/2009 : 20:59:22
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The thing you realize after being on the island a littl ewhile
is that the nearby pub is the neighbourhood's living room. It
belongs to the people. Houses and rooms are small, tighter, and
an evening walk and visit to the pub is a social tradition. The
drink is part of it, sure, but it's the gathering that keeps the
spirit going. There's always a corner where the guitars, whistles
and ballad singers hold court. No matter the cost of a pint - and
it's too much now for everyman - you'll always find the folks in
the pub, three generations of them, having a laugh, heated debate,
telling tall stories, catching up on the news firsthand, making
fun of it all before joining in on the chorus right on key. |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2154 Posts |
Posted - 09/04/2009 : 17:06:57
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For you I undress down to the sheaths of my nerves.
I remove my jewelry and set it on the nightstand.
I unhook my ribs, spread my lungs flat on a chair.
I dissolve like a remedy in water, in wine.
I spill without staining, and leave without stirring the air.
I do it for love. For love I disappear.
Kim Addonizio |
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Bill Smith
Windchimer
2390 Posts |
Posted - 09/04/2009 : 21:46:41
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| Unbelievable! We get one day of heavy sleet and freezing rain every two or three years, and you pick this one for your burial. |
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Doug L
Firefly
Canada
5446 Posts |
Posted - 09/05/2009 : 20:35:02
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I understand Death's contract
and the finite ends of life:
however long a man lives
he lives only to die.
At the end, every scream
pours like a river into silence,
but the most dazzling star
is that which shows the caravan its way
when moss has covered our memories
and grief runs wild through the house.
Muhammed Al-Faituri |
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Craig
Firefly
Kyrgyzstan
3793 Posts |
Posted - 09/20/2009 : 19:03:26
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More on East Bay...later. Memories, thoughts, and secrets...
"Be careful who you tell your secrets to..."
Believe it or not, I am a simple man...
Craig |
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Ginny G.
Windchimer
USA
1810 Posts |
Posted - 09/20/2009 : 21:15:34
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"'Bein' lost is worth the comin' home."
Neil Diamond, "Stones" |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2154 Posts |
Posted - 10/03/2009 : 16:04:30
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| They're walking slowly down the beach in the wine-colored light as the sun slides toward Hawaii. The Blue Sailors are still. Tiny jellyfish. Stingless almost. Saphires in the sand. The twilit canyons are filling up like clay bowls behind them. Brimful. The laurel is alive with delirious bees in October. A blizzard of broken branches. "You an' me, Ma'am..." he says as light breaks through his bandaged side. He guns the engine when they finally step off the page. |
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buckman
Firefly
USA
2818 Posts |
Posted - 10/04/2009 : 17:19:13
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It was after midnite she came up to my room.
Eyes aglow in the moonlight three feet above mine.
Smell of lavender & oranges.
She said quietly, It's time for me to go.
I said, I don't suppose we could
roll around a little for old times sake...
She said, Your credit's all used up
and turned and left me...
I still loved watching her leave...
~*~ |
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buckman
Firefly
USA
2818 Posts |
Posted - 10/04/2009 : 17:29:07
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City Lights Book Sellers, 1970.
Mr Ferlinghetti was always so kind.
I would pass by, nod, go downstairs
with a bottle of wine and grab a book
and read.
Nobody ever said a negative word to me
about what I was doing.
I believe I first read Neal Cassidy's The First Third there.
I know I lifted my copy of Howl from the rack
on the landing of the stairs.
[Yeah, I know, but I had no rules;
if i wanted it or needed it,
it was mine.]
My income was $10.00 a day,
between the bloodbank and the doorman gig-
I could not spend money on books.
So much started from that building,
not just for me, but for all of us. |
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The Nightly Vigil