Why not?Okay, there was a party. A few thousand people in attendance. Much more than should be there for an ordinary party, before one has reached the ripe-ol-age of 70 years or so. I managed to stay around long after my welcome was severely worn. I pasted passionate kisses onto a sheet of 50lb. paper to make my way in the general direction of the protagonists involved – as they have aged at a rate quicker, not to mention being born earlier, than I have found myself. Leaving there tonight I made it around a hook and a crook and an Atlanta police cruiser to the old sweet spot where I used to procure Staropramen, because I liked the name and the label. I would walk twice a day to acquire six nuggets of middle european delight. My neighbors loved me, and the walkers-by loved my inattention to my nicotine deficit. Tonight I happened to be lonely upon departure from the lovely combined b-day party. Lakey had begun off to bed too early as a result of the too much booze. Wendi was awake and cognizant, and lovely, and all that. It was 3 AM and time to head back to the hood, as Sian informed me was the name of where I currently reside and pay rent. I cannot imagine a diffrerent way. So I scuuttlebutted away to points in Oakhurst, on the cusp of Kirkwood, past your dreams, or what any plan could make possible. As a nicotine imperative seems to drive me to my grave, I made my way by the old corner shop, where I...
Coward of the county.You were there when the Red Sea parted… and into my lap came a flood of whole and half-whole salt-water. I gurgled for the first fifteen minutes or so, just waiting for your lovely head to rise from the brine. My fingers do not make such great things as my mind does. I hope it will all go down in the the analogues as a sweet and disturbing chore. Beach winds blow on your back tonight, and if you could not tell, I am not asleep, or asunder… but rather dashing homeless dreams of incredible numbers, less seen, less noticed, only once in a half moon… I walk signigficant juntas by my pillow. I await substantial paradigms. You thought summer was easy. I realized it was hard, and hot, and me and you. I bowed to catholicoprotestant prayers. I made a haven to you and me. You will be back here sooner or later you see. C. Columbus says the star are in aligment. (Wrap around the world once for good measure,,, it all comes back to you,) I make moons out of your left eye. Mascara smudges my pillow. You are so far away. A Pawley’s Island getaway, I felt a heartbeat. A heartsmudge. An inclination before awakening. If I asked you there, would the answer be, ” Pie Glue!” ? Or something of the sort? We have it all, and to us all is figured out. Make it and keep it like a secret. I saw you 78 days before I knew you, and knew that I was in love. Your strained lip, your...
Stand still… and it will all come back to you.In lieu of writing each of you individually I have chosen to post it all here in a way that everything may be told as plainly as possible. My father once was a lineman for the county, in a manner of speaking. He was, at the first clap of thunder, erased from the family for hours, and to your houses to make sure your televisions, dishwashers, back massagers could continue to operate, as soon as possible – after the old oak tree severed the mainline coming into the suburban neighborhood. Since this is an “everything story” I will put it all out there. I realize that it has been eternities since I have caught up, so I will write it all here, word by word. Video is forthcoming. My mother is opening a new business. I have become a changed man. I relish and agonize over my brother’s… unchangeability. What if the world really is flat? Would it make a difference to the crows watching 747 jet planes landing on the runway at RDU? I am sorry to wield such a rusty sword. I pulled it from a stone years ago and submerged it in salt water. Did the same with a Craftsman screwdriver, but could at least take it back to Sears for a renewal. For those of you who knew me during that time, I have moved once again. Ten times in ten years. Two weeks since I moved out of the house where Kathy and I lived for a while – and then me after Kathy left...
GershwinAnd I said, “umm skalladaleica, umm skaladee, gooo offf to that grand ole opry with me.” You sang a song of a seventh moon and a kiss by the door. It was a heartbreaking moment, in which I thought I would see you no more. Electric bill don’t matter too much. You’ve got a phenomenon. Legs as plump as a midline streamer and my eyes all out of rest. And I said, “Ummmm skaladaka, umm skalaka deeee, we might fall to the bottom of the ocean.” I like the way your heart seems to wrap around me and the way you’ll try a new potion. I’ll never admit it took me 29 years to come to the revery, to make mad, make decisions, make the whole world look down, a nose, like my nose, they fear our notions. But baby, oh baby, if I never said it outright before, I’s say it outright here, “umm skalakee dee, do the fixin.” Shug, should we take a pause for 10, 15 minutes or something. You been away too long, but you’s was just right over. I can hear the beating in this heart, head, hound of mine. I’m going crazy. A lot makes nothing and nothing makes lots. My mama told me always find it wheres I find it and I found it right where I gots, but my aunt Theresa worries. And my mama at times worries. My whole world, and the whirly bird seems to be worried. I wants to say, “juss truss me james, juss truss me belinda.” I made it alright. I eat at fish house. Supreme...
La columna de tu espalda.When I’s a baby, my mama says, I’s a feverish baby. Collicky. Wouldn’t shut up, the day or the night. I made an early career of fucking up everyone else’s career, and a good night’s sleep. I suffered for the nipple and the coaxing hand. Separation anxiety ruled and I made a great deal of the need for the flesh. Not to sound dirty here, but I could make the life of a woman completely unbearable before I even had a memory, or a consciousness of what a woman outside of my family may or may not need – or one inside of my family for that matter. At twelve years, i took up the camera, developed a fascination for the photographic. I adored the way in which, even now, your skin, could be yours, or it could be the Sierra-Nevada mountain range. I took multiple photos of my inner, hairless thigh. With the right lighting, the right crop, the right artisitic eye, your body would be the whole world. But all of this of course, happened long before the age of twelve, and so it means nothing of the one who stands here now. There was nothing of the way you stand there, but only of the way in which you were there standing beyond and distant from the viewfinder. Everything could be, and was best if it was, seen as something other than what it was. I love it all. Your back as Nags Head’s dunes was my favorite. I travelled, but should’ve travelled more. But I have grown. I take pictures still....
Pink Flamingos.It was moonlight and twinkle light reflecting off of pink flamingos on your cotton/linen skirt and then further onto your face, and you looked like starlight, Hollywood and the hills beyond. I awoke this morning thinking, after dreams, that a life of nights like that would be completely, and more than so, acceptable. I do come on too strong. You see, I’m in a pickle and it is not as though I haven’t proclaimed it to the world here and in person. The spirit of a Danish prince has me, and has had me, for months. I walk around in black and gingham and plaid patterns of the aforementioned color. I make rainbows of shades therein. But last night it was pink flamingos and, no matter how it is shaken, there is not a shade of black to be had there. There was a dream, look up, and in that there was you and marble and whiskey and frosted glass – window treatments, harmony vocals, Fun Dip� and one-legged pink birds. I’m sorry if it all doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t to me either, and I feel as odd as a six-legged elephant today . But to go on… There were two girls in dance recital attire, a boy in baseball leggings and a message from your mother when we got home politely asking if everything was alright, and how we were doing – if we needed anything. My mom asking how the girls were doing. A walk to the closet after bathing children, and two pink flamingos standing in a puddle in the yard at midnight, of...
Barnacle.Your hair smells just like hair. The way I always thought it would smell — and your eyes make one thousand country roads uninteresting. Love is a barnacular pleasantry, but your lake makes it all worth the while. If I could be there, there would be salmon steaks, moon smiles and a dozen other whispers from you. If nothing means love more than this, please let this make an inroad....
The lamb of my porch.I bought a new CD today. I know, irresponsible for me, a person to be unemployed in under a week. The CD was just released and is some of the earliest recordings of Townes Van Zandt called In The Beginning (click on the link and buy the CD, if you want to help a brotha out). I was so taken with song number seven that I immediately began working on my own version. Here it is in all of it’s glory. Again, unfinished. I can hear all sorts of textures in the background and drums kicking in with the big “Wizard of Oz” moment. Let me know what you think. When Your Dream Lovers Die (MP3,...
The Hillary Step.I’ve been opening up my head. In a way like surgery and not like freeing your mind. I am rewiring this sonofabitch. It only seems to get me into trouble. Repatched and rewired, I have taken the plug out of the socket 15 times in 7 days and finally it seems to be purring along like a window cat. I took out the low frequencies and added an oscillator that seems to be the right frequency to keep me from convulsions. It was good while it lasted, but sooner or later the waves collided and cancelled and I fell off the wagon and under the truck tires of the lorrie driven by the Amish man with black hat and beard and his three boys, two girls and wife in a bonnet. Sooner or later you decide that you have to live, I suppose – either that or the other option and at that point you can’t write a thing anymore – and upon making that decision there’s a moment of clarity. This is my announcement that I am not your biggest fan. I know it sounds strange, but the truth of the matter is that I have been sliding for the past couple of months. If I made it there without you I would feel as odd as toothpaste on a cracker. I guess it really makes no difference the other way around. All the luck in the world to you. My rates just went up. I’ll hear it on the radio when you get there. Watch it at the Hillary step. There’s been many to lose...
Waveform of my distortion.This is for making babies. My mother was half indian. I’m going to Memphis in the spring. Gonna see Graceland. I know babies and I know you. Can you hear me when I speak like this. I’m going to ride off into the sunset. Make a thousand mistakes. I’ll see you on the flipside. On the flipside is the best song. There are voices and then there are voices. Tonight is the first night. I’ve been around the world and back. I played Black Sabbath at 78 speed and I saw god. The first time I saw god I was 14 and at a coffeeshop. When the wind blows over yonder hills we’re all gonna be alright. You lived in the house on the corner up on a hill. I thought about you tonight only 17 times. I am sleeping tonight with the whale. Please please me. All I’m saying is give me a chance. Saddam is the celibate one. I got things to give. Give it to me. I thought about making 15 asses out of myself tonight. I feel like sleep and yawn and 64 other things that I dare not list here. I don’t wanna hold you close. I’ll just hold you responsible. How did I get mixed up in this. I went to the market for two slices of bread. Daddy worked the railroads during June. I thought I saw you last night walking under the moon through the park toward his house. She’s fresh with baby in belly. I’ve made serveral other mistakes in just the past two minutes. My lungs...
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