Sunday, November 6, 2005
From Rivers of Anonymity
Up where unnamed rivers run in the shallows and the creeks, many man-made canoes remain relegated to rapids unknown and wild, left to wanton wilderness beasts, savage, untamed, cruel and cold. When in such canoes, the wayward poet makes his journey away from home, his paddle-weary muscles, aching...
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Sunday, October 2, 2005
Goin’ Down to Memphis
Rode a freight train down to Memphis In the early morning rain God, I feel the sodden fields Burdened by old Redwood pain Rode a bus to Liberty Bowl Joined a chorus of cheering fans How I feel the Tennessee spirit Time, Nile -like—God, how it spans Rode a freight train down to Memphis In the early...
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Sunday, September 11, 2005
muskoxeN hUnT !!
Muskoxen hunt stealth-arrow-strung bow pulled to deal death in moments a show: a wealth of mazy motion… fearful flight… as the herd sensing death has alighted amongst them… there in the midst of their many-horned mass… west north south east from greatest to least abandoning a single majestic bull...
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Wednesday, August 24, 2005
His Blissful Ignorance
He used the oldest trick in the book. An intrinsic left-wing hook: He held me with his smile, and teased with his wild, wild look! I must say I liked his style, as he held me mile after mile; I heard all about his fame, and decided to stay for a while. You’re probably not to blame for this...
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Wednesday, August 17, 2005
Cover Girl
Kissed and told. Ha! Too bad. So sad you were gullible. You won’t get even, just mad. You are fallible. Me? I’m alright. Moving on and upward; soaring toward the sun so bright. Haven’t you heard? I got the cover of Allure. We will sell the world! Nothing is surer than the sure that in your dreams...
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Tuesday, August 16, 2005
To a Rare Darling
My oldest break with Sir Ron Real came after he left my sister high and drying out in a strung-out sort of way in a cavern outside of East L. A. Courtside, Jack Nicholson smiles for the camera, his lenses shielding him from intruder’s eyes, while myopic ball-handlers shoot for the prize. But way out...
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Sunday, August 14, 2005
The effects of a sound reign
I have been prone to letting sound reign in matters of verse so settled and vain, in matters of rhyme where colors live along the wide river where ideologues give the depth of their wisdom, the sweep of their lore, their kingdom of steep accolades on the shore of a rare lake of solitude fair and...
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Good Morning! Here is the latest!
instrumentally, yours Cacophony of metal in my ears gives way to softer tones as Elton John’s lush vocals urge me to turn the lights out when I leave. But everything has not been said, EJ, and the lights are certainly not going out for a long, long time. Breaking hearts is a little like breaking...
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Saturday, August 13, 2005
The mean is nothing; nothing is the mean.
When you stand for nothing, everything means. Mean- time; mean- while; mean value accrued sublime.
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The Rise and Fall of Sir Richard (A Petrarchan in Alexandrines)
He was held and punched out like a toke to a joke, as the sun rose that morning he surveyed the town. You rose from your bed in your fine red satin gown, we made sweet, sweet love; bright larks together spoke; devout consummation; tender feelings awoke; you make me feel lusty; I am fully grown;...
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