The Low Down

You don’t get what you need all the time. You get that thump in your chest, those sparks in your brain, but what you need most comes in spurts and flashes, meteoric and concise, like the last glimpse of that diamond you dropped down the drain by accident. That’s OK, honey. It’s only money. You get another chance. Next year’s calendars are already on the New Arrivals shelf. Give yourself a break. Pour yourself a drink. Give yourself a kick in the ass if that’s what it takes. Hit the brakes. Hit the gas. But don’t leave the road. It’s nothing but weeds out there. You wait forever for a tow or walk all that way back home. ♥

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An American In Madison

Fat motorcycles, trendy folk and hangers on, people pretending they know what the hell they’re doing and making laws between tequila shots, getting married, getting buried, kicking sand a long way from the beach and no art, no God damn art, unless you think its therapeutic and then we’re all artists. I hear thunder in the air. It could be a storm, one of those interruptive downpours, or it could be Armageddon. You know, reality come to crash the party. ♠

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Rhapsody In Blue

When I was a boy, I listened to this song. You cannot hear it now, I know. There are a lot of songs you can’t hear anymore. The Song of Roland; the song of my heart when first we kissed, the Song of Bernadette. No, I never kissed her; the song of half a dozen guys pulling all along a rope at the same time. All together now. No, you never heard those songs, but I heard them and my heart still thrills. I hum them. “I’ve got a gal that’s mighty sweet.” Here’s another. “Oh Mary, Mary you wicked girl, what are you doing in this desperate world? You’ll ruin your fame and fortune too, by playing on your,” the way my grandfather taught me. We used to sit there fishing and I’d take a puff of his cigarette. You should have heard grandma, “Jack,” she’d say, “what are […]

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New Glory

Stop asking as though you had a right to anything but the chance to keep trying. Stop complaining. Stop planning to retire and give thanks for the job. Invent some way to make life better for anyone but yourself. Tell fools the truth. Fight only to the death. Live beyond your means in love until you no longer fear love. Be yourself until you forget how, then go back to class. Turn off all the screens and look around. Keep looking and never substitute media for real life again or text for an embrace or handshake or face to face. Talk to people. Listen to them. Honor the dead. Listen to them too and tell the unborn how much you love them by preparing your world to receive them. Quit the stage with honor and bow to the applause. If there is no applause, wait for a better audience during the encore. Unlock […]

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Half Staff

I’ve just about lost count, haven’t you? Who is it this time? How many shot dead and duly recognized? I’ll tell you what it means if it means anything at all, Old Glory in decline, the lowering of all we held sacred until the banner never meant to fall itself lies useless, lifeless on the pavement. What will we do then? Will our thoughts and prayers that couldn’t keep it up avail to raise it up again? Will we who wouldn’t pull with all our might to make it fly stoop to pick it up or merely wonder why it droops so low again? I’ll tell you why. I’ll tell you what I think if it means anything at all. The white is for cowardice. The red is the blood of innocence. Blue is for wishful thinking and the stars all live in Hollywood. ♠      

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Young Girl On A Tractor

Long hair, long as corn silk, looking down at nothing but the ground, through iron, gears and engineering, waiting to go, waiting to be told what next to do, dreams unplanted in your heart and soul upon the tractor. Waiting to be free, the damsel sitting on the dragon, face downturned, holding on to power when the power is within. The grace, the beauty, the winsome charm. Go ahead, slip it into gear. Release the clutch. Ride that monster. Wave at me. ♥  

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Erotica

In this world of sudden death, In this world of explosive violence, In this world of fear and apprehension, In this world of concrete poured endlessly, In this world of guilt, anger and despair, In this world of warning signs and fines and meaningless procedures, In this world of horror and terror and bombastic utterances leading nowhere, In this world of failed gods and goddesses, I love you. ♥        

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Yellow Flower

Burst of sunrise. Miracle of color atop an otherwise green stem. Statement of passion. These colors mean nothing. You reflect who I want to be, who I am. ♥

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Savoy Special

Let’s not do it. Let’s not go down the dusty road to death. We’ve built so many roads. Are none of them upward tending, over whatever obstructions we may find in our way? Or are we destined now to drive or ride in circles, forever longing for where we started, but lost destinationless and bored even with ourselves in captivity to our conveyance? Let’s not do it. Let’s stay home for once and enjoy what we’ve been given, quiet and close and loving one another before we venture forth again to try to find ourselves elsewhere. Let’s not do it. If we can’t find the truth within we’re lying to believe we’ll find it out there and lose ourselves into the bargain; fatalities, statistics, consumers bereft of anything to consume except ourselves. Let’s not do it. Let’s do something wonderful instead. Let’s find a place to stand and move the […]

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No One Wants A Pickle

The pickle is a lowly fruit, or is it just a veggy? Some say they’re really very good, but dills just leave me edgy. Gurkins have a sweetness which cannot be denied, but when I find them on my plate, I invariably hide them underneath a lettuce leaf or accommodating chip. Or better yet find room for them upon the floor and let them slip conveniently away. The world is such a tragic place, full of unwanted ardor. No one seems to want it more than these vinegar cured cucumbers. ♥

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