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Ailinn
Windchimer

2372 Posts

Posted - 07/04/2022 :  10:14:50  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
...and now the children want to go hang gliding. To leap off the cliff and throw themselves to the wind.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2372 Posts

Posted - 07/04/2022 :  18:26:19  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Days gone by...

-It's a strange place, the dam. Atmospherically unnerving. Electrical towers jutting out from canyon walls at such alarming angles. If you're prone to nightmare they'll disturb you. Red cones everywhere that morning.

-The Pinkerton man comes by with his Pinkerton girl. She smokes Salem cigarettes which he buys by the carton. "Listen..." he says, flipping through his spiral notebook. Summer at the high tide mark. Bright air and wave effervescence. Fish in the water. A fleeting grace there

-Moonlight flooding J-Dock. Tall masts holding light in the harbor. His NAV charts hieroglyphics. No glittering grief. No absurd sorrow.
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2913 Posts

Posted - 07/09/2022 :  20:16:55  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Rivers of tears. Banks overflowing.
Fallen onto knees worn from crawling.

I wept for the lost opportunities, the years wasted.
I wept for the deals with the devil,
the payback never ending.
I wept for my family, my friends, my love,
My boy.
I longed to have known them better.
I wept for those who had cared for me,
believed in me, cheered for me.

Finally I wept for myself. The potential lost.
The lives barely touched. The worlds barely known.
The friends left behind, crushed by unresponsiveness.

Serenity’s a place as yet unknown.
Making amends a distant hope.

Kneeling, I asked for another try
at a second chance.



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Ailinn
Windchimer

2372 Posts

Posted - 07/16/2022 :  21:45:40  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
-Enchanted morning. A ceremony for sunrise. "So we don't take it for granted," Rueven Cloud says. This is the water, (or lack of it.) This is the deeded land. In any season the light has a blush and there are flowers.

-Dawn. Dew wet and coffee fueled. Sun coming up. Nothing can stop it. Two horses in the corral rubbing their noses together.

-At the Mission school they told stories. Some true. What percentage were true? Tales fraught with implication.

-They don't speak. They listen. The sky is immense. Indigo and magenta. Reservation smoke low on the foothills. Thirsty ground and cautious creatures drinking in last light.

-"Save everything," he say, "Save it all." Chapter One.

Edited by - Ailinn on 08/05/2022 19:12:51
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2372 Posts

Posted - 07/24/2022 :  17:14:52  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Ordinary Time

-The road to Cataviña. Sage rain. Paloverde. Blanket of cool air. Shamans and curandero. Copal burning in black abalone bowls. Ragged stars. Raven music.

-The storm leans in. Small craft warnings. The commerce of trees. Of water. Sirens where the banks are overflowing. Tree roots in the air. Coastal shrubs and swaying grasses. Wind winnowing through the beach weed and sand verbena.

-Oil on canvas. Ravel of fog. Rainbow dew. Sunday papers. On the edge of North America he pours a second cup. "Days in amber," he says. Remember the view.

-They sit on the dock swinging their legs over water. Fish between boats. Their slow leisure. Sun in its high sky-blue basket. Later they sleep below the waterline under Altair, Deneb, and Vega.


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Ailinn
Windchimer

2372 Posts

Posted - 07/30/2022 :  17:47:49  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Slow July. Birds all day. Jasmine fringe at the window. They're sitting on the floor looking at old photographs. "Light is darker on the east coast and whiter in Florida than California," she says. "My father set me on his knee before an easel when I was seven. Taught me to paint shadows on ships in the wharf. Told me stories of the whalers and the Wampanoag. The men of the Essex. Before sand moved into Nantucket. Tiny silver-sheen island I thought was the world. Ted made me look through the viewfinder. What don't you want to see?" he asked. "What's out is as important as what's in." He gave me an old Pentax I took everywhere. In my mind I was always framing the image." He holds up a photo of a church graveyard gate. Black and white and grainy. "...the lock thing...?" he says. "Breaking and entering?" she says. "Outside doesn't count," he laughs.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2372 Posts

Posted - 07/30/2022 :  17:53:29  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
6am subway crowded with hospitality workers. Ride holding onto the strap. Feel the sway as the tile stations fly by. Sticky floor feels like you're glued there. Up on the street, coffee and daybreak donuts by the park. Top hat and tie carriage drivers polishing their elegant rigs.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2372 Posts

Posted - 08/11/2022 :  18:43:02  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Patch butterflies in the Jacumba Mountains. Juniper. Creosote. Chaparral. Two miles from the border paved roads end. The Goat Canyon Trestle falls like a macrame wall hanging 85 feet to the Carrizo Gorge floor. Steep twisty single-file trail. Boulder fields like Parker House rolls baking in the sun. Blister light. His hat brim pulled low almost touching his nose.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2372 Posts

Posted - 08/11/2022 :  18:45:48  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Hot nights. Smoke along the ridgeline. Eerie slow-motion glow. Chainsaws alive in the hills. Grit on the sill. Scratchy branches. Santa Ana's sandpaper wind trying to lift the house off the ground.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2372 Posts

Posted - 08/21/2022 :  18:18:48  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
"Don't tell it safe, tell it true." He's pacing the floor smoking short cigarettes. "Jus' start talkin'," he says.

"New companions," the Judge smiles, and Sister Simon nods. They discuss my placement as if I'm not there. I have long hair. When I bow my head I can hide behind it.

Somewhere in New England the sky is falling. Everything swirling. Like the floor drain in the laundry room at 4pm. I'm nine. I lie. I know it's a sin because I made First Holy Communion. My father gave me View-Master reels that make me want to travel.

He hands her the pen, "Keep me with you," he says. He's a hand-written paper man.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2372 Posts

Posted - 08/21/2022 :  18:21:31  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
FRESH CORN

Sign off a summer dirt road. Picnic table and bench. Eating sweet raw corn in green fields by the San Luis Rey he'll talk to anyone.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2372 Posts

Posted - 09/06/2022 :  17:44:41  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
There's a staggered stone wall around the courtyard fountain. Places low enough to sit on. He knows where the sun is all day. When and where it touches down. He's mechanically inclined to the point of invention and not afraid of work. It's morning so he has the whole day. By noon his shirt is off and he's deaf with concentration. Blue air where the land slopes away to blue water. A keyhole view because he likes surprises.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2372 Posts

Posted - 09/06/2022 :  17:49:33  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Paper flying round the room. Words in four corners. The summer sails on. The great Milky Way overhead. Sky in his eyes. Days of wonder.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2372 Posts

Posted - 09/06/2022 :  17:59:11  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
"Ted...?" he says. "Manic genius," she says. "His loft a confusion of cluttered rooms. Studio, photo lab, kitchenette. Two hot plates, a cot and a mini fridge. Closet shelves full of awards. His main diet was peanut butter crackers and Mateus Rosé. He looked like Jeffrey Hunter. The actor who played Jesus with blue eyes. He could make light effervesce off anything. Hubcaps. A cop's whistle. A woman's high heel shoe. He made steam coming out of the manhole covers look like miracles. Closest I came to an uncle or brother. He loved his mother. And Tiger, his cat. Occasionally his mother would send over Wedding soup in Ball jars. Tiny meatballs in a savory broth. He'd split it between me, him and Tiger. Tiger would slump down against my ankles and purr during the shoot."

Edited by - Ailinn on 09/06/2022 18:00:57
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2913 Posts

Posted - 09/15/2022 :  00:57:03  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
~*~
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2913 Posts

Posted - 09/17/2022 :  13:47:53  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply


I smelled the vanilla
Before I felt her touch.

She had come to me in the darkened room
While I lay alone thinking of a new poem.

I said that I had gotten so tired of not hearing a voice that
I had been talking to myself for three days.
I said that I had decided that every poet is a warrior and
Every warrior a poet.

And she shook out her black hair
And looked at me with black eyes
that I would have died to look into
Just once and said..
.
Shuttup, Preacher; Lie down and please,
Just shut up.

As Carmelita silently settled on top of me, she said
Feels like home, eh, Preacher?

Another poem lost forever to a woman...

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Ailinn
Windchimer

2372 Posts

Posted - 09/17/2022 :  17:57:14  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Two weeks before Summer Solstice, "I wanted to talk to you..." he says. Lagoon across the street. Blue dragonflies in the tule reeds. Amtrak Parking lot. Prism windshields throwing off sparks against the window. So much incidental light. "Take your sunglasses off," he says. His hands restless on the wheel. His rapid-fire questions.

I stay on the train because it's moving, she says. Dairy land rushing by. The wrong direction. Single track. Trestle over brown water. Roiling muddy clouds. Some sundown town soon to get a soaker. Dust disappearing from my shoes. My legs are strong. I've walked all night before. I can walk again. But not on water. I can turn myself in. A bowl of soup and four Saltines before the inquisition. I know what the stakes are here. I start picking burrs off my clothes. Place them on the refectory table. Getting lighter by the moment.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2372 Posts

Posted - 09/17/2022 :  17:59:32  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
And later. Turkey roasting in the oven. "This time you can drink the gravy," she laughs.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2372 Posts

Posted - 09/17/2022 :  18:02:19  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
-YOUR CONVERSATIONS AND ACTIONS ARE BEING RECORDED-

USBP sign at the Pedestrian Crossing Bridge. Circumspect answers. Blurred lines. The illicit economies of border cities. Strawflowers in the ice plant on both sides.
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2913 Posts

Posted - 09/24/2022 :  23:33:00  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply

I sit with her in the darkness.
I wait for the one
that they say is looking for me.

I am more than armed;
gun in one pocket,
Bible in the other...

I can stand the silence no longer;
I take the Bible out
and lay
it on the table;
I take the gun out
and hand it to Carmelita;
I take my jacket
and collar off and remove my hat.
I am ready...

To DANCE...

I pirouette around the room
as she watches, shaken, stunned at first...

I collapse into my chair
Laughing like a madman...

When I feel the Spirit
in me like this,
I Must Fight or make mad,
passionate love,
or dance.

I do not favor one over the other,
but I LOVE to DANCE...

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