open sky verses
write swoops of soaring songbirds
obscured by cloud drift
spring ’round bleak corner
beyond approaching dark clouds
all sprouting and green
bound in time and space
tight yet loosed by liquid light
raindrop, river, sea
when is river not
itself – but is something else
escaping the land
still windless long night
at speed of banana slugs
I love a parade
river laps just so
whispering waves and then some
though vines, rosebuds sleep;
nectars of past blooms taste sweet.
forever and gone.
tapestry vines wave
woven to land flag in wind
deep naked sleeping
back ‘fore dry wineku
there was long sweet true charlene
golden smile bouquet
goblets bump and sing
grape elixir splashes tune
rows of them trace hills
showing just a hint of leaf
marking (wafting) breeze
silent vineyard symphony
cork set free with pop
dark bottle erupts in foam
flutes hold notes not spilt
it blooms from her “pop”
vibrant sprays of fizz bubbly
drowning cork echos
her waves break garnet
tempest in long stem crystal
short storms sans slow spills
to thirsts never quenched
to all ghosts of long gone vines
to deep clear grape truth
(“in vino, veritas”)
garnet glow glass globe
fingers turn it ’round and ’round
grapes glide gladly gone
once orbs under leaves
now dark ruby in goblet
soon a laugh or two
from long dusty wait
corks sumersault o’er gold foam
emptied bottles sigh
slid out of linen into
faded 501’s and watched
half of her unconscious smile
on pillow above lone breast
escaping quilt where sleep
gathered trails of us,
quick cast off things
strewn across the floor.
draped hers on chairback,
double taked as something fell
from lady wranglers.
the magic died in gold
and last nights rodeo dimmed
as I laid it on her sideboard
near sauza conmemorativo and curled
lime peels of emptiness,
in a spill of rough sea salt.
I stepped into boots, into bathroom,
wrote words in soap on my reflection
as last nights bucking came again.
she’d screamed for rougher ride.
for god three times tequilla lipped.
slipped deep away into fading affirmative hiss.
no looks back, out the door
to the rocket I rode in on
and its quiet four cylinder song.
once again I became the wind.
my music had faltered a bit
but would wander on.
seasons circle on
summer, autumn, winter, spring
time dancing around
chill turns inside out
hours sprout buds and leaves in green
days stretch whisper sighs
amber and ruby
wrinkled and full of rare light
maple and fallen
showing only thorns
through patches of silent snow
dreaming of a bloom
branches wake chartreuse
reaching and unfolding to
gold songs in azure
David Letterman last week announced his last year on late night guest and comedy driven television. Dave is probably one of the MOST original and BIGGEST risktakers of any late night host. The music, the weird ongoing soap opera surreal scenario sideshows and the way you NEVER knew what Dave was going to do with the guests. It was the biggest ADVENTURE in late night variety shows as well as the most leading edge.
My favorites were the STUPID DOG TRICKS and all videos of dog cam, dog skits and dog stuff of any kind. Dave has a thing about dogs and really highlights some interesting aspects of dog existence in both ecstatic and dark humorous ways. The dog cam live slices of doggy life were a howl.
Guests were usually more interesting than on other shows. There was more interaction between Dave and Paul and the worlds most dangerous band than any of the other shows. He set precedent with vignettes of live comedy drama behind the scenes and stages, out on the street, elsewhere in the city and from the roof of the theater. He interacted with neighbors of the theater and pioneered sitcom like segments that all other shows would copy.
His genuine goodwill wrapped up in class clown lazer wit is easy to see on his face and in his work.
Dave did more playful envelope stretching than ASS KISSING, BROWN NOSING and FULL RECTAL COLLAR INSERTIONS, unlike ALL the other hosts of late night shows.
DAVE was the best since Johnny carson and was a part of the ghost of the ages he performed in.
LONG LIVE DAVE!
waste of rad toy if you ask me
freaking silver spyder slipped stupidly
my white ’58 reuter body sleekster did that
with enough horsepower to fool you in the twitches
damn james, she was under your foot and in your hands bro
she was crying your name in fever pitch rpm’s and screaming kicks
she’d do anything for you with just a bare hairtrigger touch
she was loaded with the bullets of you james, held to your head
you were the freaking lone ranger driving your own silver bullet james
and you were wearing that stupid silver screen mask you silly bastard
you’d fooled yourself into a movie of yourself that didn’t have the sand
and lost it all in that last no second take moment
a kansas farm wife called the local phone company to report her telephone failed to ring when her friends called. she also reported that on those occasions when it did ring, the sound made her dog moan EVERY TIME BEFORE the phone rang.
the telephone repainman proceeded to the scene and was curious to see the psychic dog or senile lady. He climbed a telephone pole, hooked in his test set and dialed the subscribers house phone number.
the phone did not ring right away. then the dog moaned and the telephone began to ring.
climbing down from the pole the repairman was AMAZED to find:
1. dog was tied to the telephones ground wire with a steel chain and collar.
2. wire connection to the ground rod was loose.
3. dog was receiving 90 volts of signaling current when the number was called.
4. after a couple of jolts dog would start moaning and then urinate.
5. wet ground would complete the circut, thus causing phone to ring.
PROOF THAT SOME PROBLEMS ARE FIXED BY PISSING AND MOANING.