| Where is Kel? |
Jan 15, 2008 5:11 pm
1400 Views | Just wondering if anyone knows
if Kel is OK? I've not seen her
posts or comments for a while.
Miss you, girl. | |
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18 Comments | |
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| Watermark |
Jan 9, 2008 7:23 pm
1639 Views |  | There is this place below me
I cannot see -
a waterfall of words
pooling slow
and sliding deep
to evergreen.
My holding hands
are hard onto the rock,
a steady grasp
against the rush.
My eyes are focus-dazed,
the netherworld of pulse
and crush
hidden,
the soil a watermark,
like parchment,
beneath my feet. |
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16 Comments | |
| I just like |
Jan 3, 2008 4:59 pm
1800 Views | You know I don't do this very often,
but here are some lyrics I like.
Killian's Red
by Nada Surf
I'm putting this night down to bed
Cause I was sitting at the bar
Hoping you'd walk in the door
That says Killian's red
Cause I left you a note that said
Come on out and we'll both get
Right off of our heads
And float up off the chair
We'll go on vacation tonight
Under a sun of neon light
And I almost love this town
When I'm by your side
You woke me from a long sleep
And I'm almost back
Closer than ever
To finding the hidden track
If I told you the truth
You wouldn't like what I said
I almost believed I was dead
There'll be no more waiting
You're gonna melt all the ice
In our heads
There'll be no more crying
You're gonna make it all better instead
I get secrets at night
But they don't stay
I get secrets at night
But they go away | |
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5 Comments | |
| The music |
Jan 2, 2008 4:37 pm
1793 Views | Claude Debussy
Reverie
A new piano.
88 keys.
My mind is ready for the music.
My fingers are stretching
on and on
once again. | |
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3 Comments | |
| Alice and the Resolution |
Dec 31, 2007 12:17 pm
2033 Views |  | "I resolve to have no more resolutions," Alice said. "Don't you think that's the wisest course?"
"Ahem." Caterpillar's long arm reached across a large and rather humiliated mushroom to retrieve the hookah tentacle from Alice's grip. "A resolution, my dear, is only as strong as the accent in which it is pronounced." Young caterpillar's voice lowered into a contrived, very Indo-English accent which boomed out across the fungus patch, sending Alice's tresses flying out behind her. "HA HA HA HA," he guffawed wildly, his laughter managing to dissolve back into nasal Brooklynese.
"Oh come now," Alice continued. "All I am saying is if I make a resolution, it means I'm planning. And if I'm planning, it means I'm counting on a future. If you will, it's as if I'm counting on an entire train schedule of tomorrows in which to conduct said resolutions." Alice slumped. "Sigh," she said.
She held out her hand.
"Hrmmm..." Caterpillar puffed thoughtfully, carefully blowing his smoke out toward the now quite bemused mushroom. "So what?"
Alice wiggled her fingers impatiently at the tentacle.
"So..." she said, speaking in the breathless tone of one inhaling..."if I were to make a resolution, which of course I'm not going to, then I'd most likely resolve to live...No, no, I can't even say it." She blew out this last bit all in one gust.
"Live? 'Most likely resolve to live.' I rather like it, Alice. But then, if you've resolved to live, then you are providing the tomorrows which would be necessary for further resolutions." Caterpillar folded over, waving his legs in the air. "Aha! Now go on then. You can make as many resolutions as you like - see?"
"Sigh" said Alice.
Caterpillar leaned in, closely examining Alice's face through the frame of her suddenly stalwart hair.
He waggled a toe.
He wrinkled his nose.
He accidentally brushed up against mushroom.
"My dear Alice. What seems to be the problem? Now you've resolved to live, you can have it all! Plan away!" With a grand flourish, he retrieved the hookah from Alice's hand and straight-away took a hit.
"That's just it. That's not that my resolution - to live..." Alice paused. "I'd really like my resolution to be...to be...a promise to live completely in each moment. You know - 'be' fully in the present. And if I'm doing that, well, hell's bells, Cat, I can't be making other plans, now can I?" |
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11 Comments | |
| Song |
Dec 29, 2007 10:41 pm
2060 Views | I am the mermaid’s song
Cradled from the shore -
Soon caught and forged
Upon the rocks.
Steeped in sky
My cries
Dissipate, a keening for the wind
Again.
In the dreamless hours
The sea becomes my lover,
Listening;
My sound entwined
With that
Which does not
Die. | |
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17 Comments | |
| 57 minutes and I'm doing what! instead of playing Santa? |
Dec 24, 2007 8:04 pm
2319 Views |  | Moonbean patterns
down their frowns
in slanted other-ways
and dusted stars
like glittered tears
rest sharp upon
the snow.
So magic lands
in frantic spans
that test us
year to year -
to merry now
like gentlemen
we breathe in deep
the clear and
bitter cold. |
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35 Comments | |
| My sister |
Dec 23, 2007 10:17 pm
2083 Views |  | "I did this thing. This thing I shouldn't have done," my voice was small into the machine. "Pick up. Pick up."
"I'm falling. Back there...it's worse than ever," I said when she called back moments later.
And we spoke, on and off today, for six hours. Now, mind, my sister isn't a phone person. In fact no one in our family can ever get her to answer the phone. But she does for me. Every time. And she calls me. Every week. Just to check and catch up with me, to hear more Saturday night stories, to make sure I'm ok. That my heart is still in tact. She'll listen to it all. And I tell her everything.
And while I'm falling into this abyss, or think I am abysmal, and think I have no one, she is there. Listening. And today she was there all day long. Just talking. Sorting out the whys of our patterned lives. Wondering once again why we do what we do to ourselves.
My Goddess, I love that woman. And if I ever complain or rant or self-pity myself about not having friends, just look slant-eyed at me and say...
"Oh, go call your sister, you nerk."
and you might even say...
"She's right, Mary. The meds were working." |
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14 Comments | |
| One year ago - who is still here? (hey Ari made me save it) |
Dec 21, 2007 9:26 pm
2048 Views | ***Hey, wrote this a year ago and posted it 12/24/2006. Ari told me to save it for this year. Now how did she know I'd still be here?***
'Twas the Night Before Christmas
(or A Visit from St. Nicholae)
'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
not a creature was writing, nor clicking a mouse.
The posts were all decorated with colors and flair,
in hopes that our friends soon would be there.
The weirdoes were nestled all snug with their heads,
composing poems and those stories, things better left unsaid.
Our Ari was splendid with wisdom, and I with my laugh,
we had just grabbed the bottle and popped off the cap.
When out there in the cyber there arose such a clatter,
I sprang to my blog to see what was the matter.
Away to my keyboard I flew like a flash,
tore through some posts, and threw on the Clash.
The words from the breasts of my new-founded friends
gave the luster of hope to my feelings again,
when, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
but a loopy crazed oneman and his eight tiny reindeer.
With a little old driver, so silly and bad,
I knew in a moment it must be quiet man.
More rapid than meal rations, his coursers they came,
and he hooted and hollered and called them by name:
"Now Sir T! Now Bigman!
Now, JiffyBob and Gower!
On, Quaint (man!)! On, Dan (my man)!
On, Goodguy and Dudley!
To the top of the list!
To the top of them all!
Now post away! Post away!
You're all off the wall!"
As simple as words that will lift you or fry,
these boys were our nemeses, our brothers, our pie-in-sky.
So knowing their power, to the list-top they flew,
with the sleigh full of smiles, and that odd little oneman too.
And then, in a twinkling, I searched on my blog,
For one last bit of proof that the magic was logged.
With head in my hands, and a big zero for comments
I looked once again and saw St. Nicholae in all of her dominance.
She was dressed all in fur, but she wasn’t a cat,
and her clothes were all garnished with stardust – she was phat.
A bundle of spoils she had flung on her back,
and she looked like a peddler just opening her pack.
Her eyes--how they twinkled! Her dimples, how merry!
Her cheeks were like roses, her nose like a cherry!
Her droll little words were like a string on a bow,
and the beard on her chin was removed for the show.
The stump of a pipe she had hidden from sight,
but the smoke was still visible in this heady, calm night.
She had a broad face and a little round belly,
that shook when she laughed, like a bowl full of jelly.
She was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
and I laughed when I saw her, it was me – my own self.
A wink of her eye and a twist for a lure
soon gave me to move away from the mirror.
I spoke not a word, but went straight back to type
and filled all my new friends with craziness and hype.
And laying my finger aside of my nose,
I typed up such prose, up the list of girls I rose.
I sprang to my sleigh, to this team gave a whistle,
And away we all flew like the down of a thistle.
Behind me I heard, 'ere I flew out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!" | |
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11 Comments | |
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