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San Diego
Swinger

515 Posts

Posted - 08/05/2016 :  08:10:00  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
You too, Joe. I can see that excited little six year old flying across the enchanted desert. Making memories and safer because of his daddy and a kindly conductor. Off to work now. TGIF.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2249 Posts

Posted - 08/07/2016 :  18:01:00  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Sheltered bus stop with a long-distance payphone where leaves collect like memories under a bench. Evanescent tail lights fading. Who lets the spirits off at that corner with their lifelike laughter and lit cigarettes? They don't behave as you think they would. Talking loudly and waving their jackets in the mortal air as if rooting for some hometown team. And everything happens again in bright blurred light like when the optometrist puts yellow drops in your eyes. "Leap of faith," he says, grabbing her by the hand and heading straight into oncoming traffic. Their bodies passing through cars like a gentle caress.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2249 Posts

Posted - 08/23/2016 :  17:59:40  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply

A fleeting image could change his direction for the day. A little dirt park beside the chaos freeway all grit and brittle light. Exhaust fumes fever mirage. The couple sitting on the edge of a dry cement fountain drinking coffee from paper cups. The stroller and sleeping child. Stroke after stroke he laid color down. Apparitions alive on canvas. The dead living across the bittersweet Border. Phantom shorebirds wheeling in a Delphic sky. Feral fogs prowling the coastline where a woman in a white dress with a bouquet of wet flowers steps out of the misty sea. His dawn to dusk inventions. The panorama of dreams.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2249 Posts

Posted - 08/27/2016 :  19:18:12  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply

Cars crowded into parking lots full before 8am. So much sun glinting off metal. Surf boards and paddle boards. Coolers and party piņatas. Tail-gaters barbecuing beside their RV's on crumbling cliff tops. Hickory and oak smoke lifting into a Monet sky. Miles of flat beach to moonlight. One late August weekend sleeping out under stars before everything breaks in September.
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Joe Z
Windchimer

USA
1820 Posts

Posted - 08/30/2016 :  13:42:50  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
I believe "Newburians" are emotionally tuned to the same frequency. That would be Radio Romantic at Heart, or 112.1 MHz just outside the FM dial.

Edited by - Joe Z on 08/30/2016 17:03:51
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San Diego
Swinger

515 Posts

Posted - 09/06/2016 :  19:33:18  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
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Craig
Firefly

Kyrgyzstan
3794 Posts

Posted - 09/08/2016 :  17:46:36  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
*wink*
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2249 Posts

Posted - 09/12/2016 :  17:55:49  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
A high house with stars in the rafters at the watery edge of town. A kitchen that leans over an ocean where they sit with their warm cups sorting through old photographs. "The spread-open fan of memory..." he says, "...in black and white and color." Kodachrome cloud-swollen skies. Coney Island Atlantic in the background. The photographer grabbed the camera just before the storm came down. Shot of her and the crew holed up for hours in a seedy Boardwalk motel waiting on the weather. Smear of Nathan's mustard on her chin. "Stuck-up," he grins.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2249 Posts

Posted - 09/12/2016 :  18:03:55  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
In Appletown the potion is so quick they fall under its spell immediately. Bluedark sky. Stars in the window. Gold miners and tent city ghosts in frames on the wall. "Shhh... Nothing to fear. Nothing to harm you..." he whispers, waking up and drifting back into sleep. His heart everywhere in the dreaming. Smudge of dawn on the sill until he opens his eyes. Suddenly sun and the Fall-fragrant world spinning around them.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2249 Posts

Posted - 09/18/2016 :  17:06:27  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
A steep curb corner overlooks the bay and the bridge where ships are silently rocking. Morse code flickers at the skylines metallic edge. Gale force winds force them backwards up the hill. He turns up her collar in front of Vincenzo's bakery. (Six kinds of macaroons in the window.) His lips are cold in November.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2249 Posts

Posted - 09/18/2016 :  17:10:43  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Dawn light climbing out of the Sonoran bowl ringing the harsh Santa Rosas. Bougainvillea circling the courtyard with tissue-thin memories. Mica-flecked air and honey-thick sun in his benevolent mirage. He watches the blinking lizards and slow-moving trains. The desert's mural magic. The mountains around them grinding down to sand. Days go by. Years pass.
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Craig
Firefly

Kyrgyzstan
3794 Posts

Posted - 09/20/2016 :  20:17:48  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Lightnin' bugs tonight...
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2872 Posts

Posted - 09/22/2016 :  10:38:22  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
~*~ Been a few years of depression and over work. Stopping to tip my hat and say howdy.~*~


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Joe Z
Windchimer

USA
1820 Posts

Posted - 09/22/2016 :  13:07:51  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Howdy, Hank. Wonderful to see you in these parts!
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2249 Posts

Posted - 09/28/2016 :  17:37:11  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
He's fascinated with sleep and the nature of dreams. The RPM's slowing down. The progression of alpha, theta, and delta waves. Alternative states of consciousness. REM time and spindle spikes and the bubble in the level that tips the mystery in. He's a master of this labyrinthine tangle. "What's dripping in the pan in the moment..." he grins. He's scraping his stick against the white-washed fence. She's skipping along beside him trundling her hoop. Sweet lullaby light coming down. DO NOT DISTURB sign on the door.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2249 Posts

Posted - 10/04/2016 :  20:39:55  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Houses on cliffs or on sand where the sea comes in aslant. His eyes surprised everyday the way the shore changes, "...an' all that water out there..." A vineyard town where he falls asleep in slow motion. Where the hours are tolled by Mission bells and the dirt roads all have saints names. A house in the hills with nascent light through the trees. Dawn branches briefly shining. Coyote footprints on the cold tile floor. Birds of Paradise. Hot hedges. Barefoot days when crossing the creek bridge just meant watching out for splinters.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2249 Posts

Posted - 10/10/2016 :  17:08:57  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
He consorted with angels exquisitely versed in mortal ways. The loud moments. The blossom in the blood. Hearts at the brink trapped in the mechanics of time. Dreams lying broken on the floor. The sadness in them. He captured it all in his paintings. He leaned into the easel and his redemptive art.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2249 Posts

Posted - 10/10/2016 :  17:12:06  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
They had seen the light. More than once. Portal of transformation. He said it was beautiful. A delicate mist. She said it was short sticks of lightning that crackle and hiss. They both said they were not afraid.

Edited by - Ailinn on 01/25/2020 13:57:09
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2249 Posts

Posted - 10/18/2016 :  19:21:33  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
They're out on the street mining sunshine. Pockets full of match books and ball point pens. He likes Marina Bank's best. Both blue and black ink a block from the harbor where in Winter they'll sit outside with bowls of hot chowder in the fog. But this is Autumn. The Bay and the Pier and the palm-studded sky. The red setting sun slipping under the Bridge. The single-runway. The Star. The Embarcadero. The Sailor and the mute Fortune Teller in the Fall-threaded light aware of an air of enchantment.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2249 Posts

Posted - 11/01/2016 :  14:19:39  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
In the province of memory they sit on the corner drinking cup after cup under extravagant sunshine. Mona Lisa's sly smile across India. Jacaranda and vanishing bungalows climbing straight up to the Park. The reflection pool with its lotus and lily pads. Mosaic domes and fountains. The magic carousel. Flocks of seagulls sweeping over steep West Laurel Street where the cars go airborne and the jets and Interstate 5 fly over it all.
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