tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-65267806012226555852024-02-19T01:40:19.003-08:00The Red Thread Between Nothingness And Eternity: Flash Writing and Found MusicUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger1139125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6526780601222655585.post-63389527138568828352015-04-12T06:31:00.002-07:002015-04-12T06:35:00.549-07:00I Am Writing Somewhere Else Now<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Hello! Not sure if anyone ever reads here anymore, but I am writing on a different blog these days. It's called <i>A Half Strangled Crow of Desire.</i> I hope to see you there.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://ahalfstrangledcrowofdesire.blogspot.com/">ahalfstrangledcrowofdesire.blogspot.com</a></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6526780601222655585.post-81887626040233715382014-04-16T10:19:00.000-07:002014-04-16T10:19:43.580-07:00Seluah- Black Sand<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6526780601222655585.post-19007187855755754292014-04-16T05:52:00.000-07:002014-04-16T05:52:07.213-07:00Post<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Strive to remain the point of reference<br />
constant in <br />
this wind<br />
that just will not relent</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6526780601222655585.post-89279469712485108042014-04-10T11:13:00.005-07:002014-04-10T13:08:23.595-07:00Gone<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Just before waking<br />
you dream a dream of <br />
a fake Sweet Sixteen <br />
her disappointment with<br />
the stand ins and the reasons<br />
why not<br />
disaffected <br />
drifting off<br />
to her room and<br />
when you follow <br />
to check on her<br />
she is <br />
gone <br />
the chill on your skin<br />
suggests the unthinkable<br />
and you wake to that<br />
first <br />
and then the day</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6526780601222655585.post-24930759967899062572013-12-09T20:42:00.000-08:002013-12-09T20:42:23.830-08:00The Fall - Monocard<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6526780601222655585.post-11034685873877209702013-11-22T20:06:00.001-08:002013-11-22T20:06:50.765-08:00The Glory Of True Love<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6526780601222655585.post-24206557182808501992013-11-22T18:58:00.000-08:002013-11-22T21:32:21.437-08:00Outback<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Your friend's ashes are waiting far from where he asked you <br />
to scatter them, while you are finding yourself staring down into <br />
an eighth of an inch of blood on a dinner plate (finish your beer), <br />
listening to a father and his college-aged daughter talking easily <br />
and openly (you're starting toward maudlin, so move out)<br />
teenage boys hold the doors open, think of silken black hair,<br />
arms, veins, lips <br />
when suddenly a family,<br />
two parents in glasses and their three small children <br />
moves innocently through, a brood...<br />
<br />
You're brooding soon, under the moon<br />
smelling the wet black parking lot <br />
removing the thing from your jacket pocket<br />
arranging it so that it points up under your chin <br />
then firing while still walking long strides<br />
which just knocks you down, breaks your jaw, <br />
but more importantly, your train of thought.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6526780601222655585.post-31180291283519040442013-11-14T17:11:00.001-08:002013-11-14T17:11:10.591-08:00Great Compilation<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6526780601222655585.post-78867450247871660712013-11-14T05:18:00.002-08:002013-11-14T17:27:14.152-08:00November Evenings<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
There's something about night falling<br />
in November, a brief and solemn <br />
excitement, the last lights <br />
of a sinking ship<br />
<br />
Do you like Winter?<br />
Not really.<br />
You should move somewhere warm then.<br />
But the twilight tells me to<br />
Stay.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6526780601222655585.post-63116660716720259122013-11-03T20:24:00.002-08:002013-11-03T20:24:32.017-08:00Errand Boy<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Explain to a formerly smart, vivacious, attractive<br />
twenty year old girl that the life she knew just last month<br />
may not be coming back ever again.<br />
<br />
Tell her that what's bothering her now is not <br />
exactly what she thinks it, but an illness that<br />
never goes away, though with time, might be<br />
better understood and, with strict medication<br />
compliance, even managed.<br />
<br />
You tell her. </div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6526780601222655585.post-61992105574201443222013-11-01T19:24:00.001-07:002013-11-01T19:26:47.229-07:00A Car Is Not A Home Until You Make It One<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Six a.m. sleeping in the car<br />
with the sounds of wind and rain and morning traffic<br />
a day like this strips away the last of the leaves <br />
and the hope <br />
softens us up like an artillery barrage<br />
before Winter's frontal assault<br />
change is coming, I am changing.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6526780601222655585.post-85780034666701372522013-10-31T17:57:00.000-07:002013-10-31T17:57:15.527-07:00Experiment in Terror<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6526780601222655585.post-52705990656932246322013-10-17T21:18:00.003-07:002013-10-17T21:18:43.808-07:00Gimme Danger Little Stranger<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6526780601222655585.post-46308890376021865072013-10-17T20:42:00.003-07:002013-10-18T18:37:44.764-07:00Yellow Tigers Crouched In Jungles In Her Dark Eyes<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Things had shaped up into mostly mud and drudgery by then. I was twenty-two and released from the gates of Camp Pendelton about six months before, still alive (beyond my expectations) and without a plan, money, or any desire to go home. I was trying to do the right thing by someone I loved, in a young idealist's way, who was struggling a little more than I. By the time this night came around, I was working two jobs, breaking freight, and sleeping an hour or two in my van between shifts.<br />
<br />
I paid the bills and she complained. I grew resentful and shut down. She branched out and started making other plans.<br />
<br />
Mike Russell, who always slept with a 9mm locked and loaded under his pillow, got in touch with me from out of the past one night. We went out to a rock 'n roll night club in El Cajon. We drank, and I felt pretty good for the first time in a while. I had a shaved head then and wore boots and a Charles Manson t-shirt. <br />
<br />
At some point I found myself watching a girl dance. She really wanted to dance but her boyfriend was too cool or too shy, and he wouldn't stay on the floor with her for long. She was Mexican, liked hard rock songs and stood about five feet tall. <br />
<br />
When she danced, she flew. I immediately felt like I could see her soul. I mean she <em>danced - </em>let herself go and gave it all. <br />
<br />
Anyway, the D.J. played <em>White Room </em>by Cream. I knew it would move her, and she was moving me, so I asked her to dance right in front of her boyfriend with Charlie Manson staring on from my shirt. <br />
<br />
Her dark eyes sparkled and dazzled and smiled with the excitement of music and, taking my hand, she led me to the dance floor. Only the two of us danced. We sweat from one end of the floor to the other and back several times and lost ourselves. <br />
<br />
I think of that letting go now with great longing. She never spoke to me in words, and I said only <em>thank you.</em><br />
<br />
Fall always spins the wheel of memory and, tonight, it landed here.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6526780601222655585.post-27578194628378436712013-10-16T20:00:00.004-07:002013-10-16T20:36:02.189-07:00Is Planning To Fail<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Something must have died in the refrigerator, <br />
and sediment from the well has clogged some mechanism<br />
that won't allow the heat to rise or the water to warm,<br />
and you'd best believe it's going to cost you. <br />
<br />
You've got to take care of things<em> before</em> they break down. <br />
Say it again.<br />
<br />
Now stumble forward into the tilting world, <br />
and try to keep a sense of humor<br />
will you?<br />
<br />
The moon tonight in silent silver <br />
lights the brown stalks and weeds in front of the house <br />
and the leaves have thinned<br />
enough to see that I have neighbors.<br />
<br />
Winter is stalking me, but this bed feels pretty good, and there's<br />
no second job tonight: no cranky dope fiends, no depressed kids<br />
alone in the world, or young men with their jaws wired shut<br />
with an exit wound on their foreheads waiting for something better, <br />
I hope, than another go.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6526780601222655585.post-62027726004298065832013-10-14T11:46:00.000-07:002013-10-14T22:11:39.902-07:00Columbus Day<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
The physical therapist is talking<br />
baseball absent mindedly leaving me<br />
unsure about this traction contraption<br />
and whether or not we are doing anything <br />
but going through the motions of healing and billing<br />
while outside the day is shaping up toward perfection<br />
the sky is blue and crisply vivid in that certain way <br />
that makes you believe everything is okay<br />
or makes you worry that a group of death-worshippers <br />
have hijacked a passenger plane filled with children's choirs, <br />
business travelers and family vacationers, depending on your orientation.<br />
<br />
The sad mother, estranged, is telling me about her own mother's<br />
ever-blinking eye and the wonders of acupuncture, she speed walks<br />
seeking youth in her face and I go to the gym for the first time in a year<br />
moving slowly but persistently trying to match my heart rate to the<br />
machine's gentle expectations, sweating after in a chair, feeling it roll<br />
down my skin.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6526780601222655585.post-32082663517636117162013-10-07T17:24:00.002-07:002013-10-07T17:24:31.977-07:00Can't Help But Wonder<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6526780601222655585.post-43240109691747583692013-10-06T17:21:00.002-07:002013-10-06T17:21:56.949-07:00Walking From The Parking Lot<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Dark and wet today<br />
that autumn smell of leaves and<br />
sweet decay<br />
<br />
I half remember <br />
but fall short<br />
of ignition<br />
</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6526780601222655585.post-19940750088603973902013-09-29T10:14:00.000-07:002013-09-29T10:14:00.234-07:00September Morn<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
The beauty of this day is undeniable<br />
I see it, breathe it, appreciate it<br />
but never trust it.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6526780601222655585.post-38947756298946396232013-09-27T18:30:00.002-07:002013-09-28T04:23:15.432-07:00In Bed Not Walking<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
All the cities are going on <br />
doing what they do without me<br />
walking their streets taking it all in<br />
like it's my own great big private circus<br />
until I've seen too many faces and my feet hurt and<br />
I stay alone too long then remember how most of the time<br />
I have been alone, just walking by<br />
and then that thing happens in my head <br />
and I become like a ghost again and the cities like cemeteries.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6526780601222655585.post-12661722954645969302013-09-27T06:13:00.001-07:002013-09-27T06:13:18.677-07:00Lost In The Cold Sun<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6526780601222655585.post-4533703552206012742013-09-23T06:27:00.004-07:002013-09-23T06:27:50.853-07:00Low Humidity<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
And like that, it dries up,<br />
and I don't want to write anything.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6526780601222655585.post-9298932869346059322013-09-20T17:34:00.004-07:002013-09-20T17:42:21.494-07:00Six O'Clock<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Find myself ready to crawl back into bed<br />
after only eight hours of relative wakefulness<br />
and no particular exertion.<br />
<br />
I am too young to be old<br />
and too old to waste time.<br />
<br />
I am too drowsy to try any harder<br />
and to alert to accept that.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6526780601222655585.post-36800494339130824192013-09-19T17:27:00.002-07:002013-09-19T17:27:17.175-07:00Harvest Moon<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6526780601222655585.post-90973352339880050692013-09-18T19:08:00.001-07:002013-09-18T19:08:14.732-07:00Overlay<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
I'm still spiritually wrestling with greater minds<br />
who tell me the world is simply what I am, <br />
what I bring to the table, my expectations, my understanding or lack of it, <br />
my desires, my fears, my beauty, my ugliness...<br />
<br />
That it's all just me projected out onto some screen.<br />
<br />
But I tell you that horror and atrocity stay, <br />
stick, remain, for a very long time, and that<br />
I don't think I am responsible for it all.<br />
<br />
I wanted to show you something about how horror<br />
impacts good people who go to work never expecting<br />
what will confront them, change them, scar them<br />
forever and about how they try to live with that.<br />
<br />
An overlay of tarnish is lowered onto the map of these lives,<br />
the topography of reality has changed.<br />
<br />
And then you walk out into a cold night <br />
brightly lit by a large sympathetic moon<br />
after the few cars drive off<br />
it is so quiet on the village common with it's<br />
old big white black-shuttered New England houses <br />
the dark woods and the sharp clean air.<br />
<br />
You try to make an overlay of this scene<br />
for your own map.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0