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Ailinn
Windchimer

2173 Posts

Posted - 06/07/2015 :  20:02:44  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Some times they awoke in the same rainy room. Their paper boat afloat on a buoyant ocean. He'd grab the fine brushes and catch her in a chimeric fog. Ice crystals in his eyes then. Gale storm warnings. Or sun-spoke rays causing light to bleed through his canvas. The blues caught under his brushes in harmony with the weather.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2173 Posts

Posted - 06/07/2015 :  20:06:44  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
When words woke them. Caught half conscious bailing with canvas buckets. Silver flash at the horizon. Clasp of light holding the sea and the sky together. Footsteps retreating in the parallel world remembering what's yet to come. "That last life..." he said, "...you got used to it."
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BarbraG
Windchimer

1824 Posts

Posted - 06/10/2015 :  22:14:51  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
"You've done it now," she said to herself. "You've really done it !" The sun was going down and was blood orange, and she hadn't even seen it with her eyes. Only with her heart. She missed it ! Completely !! He was gone .. just like that. With no word or explanation and no look back. To where she was. ... Where she was .. was going to be a dark and lonely place for a while, but filled with memories of light and laughter and ... darkness .. that no one could ever take away. A familiar road. He had done this before. But, she promised herself that he would never have the chance to do it again. She wasn't going to miss him this time as much as she had the first. He was on the road again. He would be fine. He had his guitar .... and, his ego.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2173 Posts

Posted - 06/15/2015 :  20:32:03  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply

The freeways cross over one by one. The aerial interchanges. The clover leafs and scimitar configurations. County roads with their question marks and glittering glass edges. Moon-bright blacktop and country lanes. Pavement Ends invitations. He cuts the engine and lights a cigarette. His journey-driven profile. Constellations in the jewelry-store sky. Ornamental evenings.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2173 Posts

Posted - 06/22/2015 :  21:19:18  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
The first time I saw him was in Yaddo's dragonfly gardens. A place of apparition and enchantment. His aura-edged shadow flashed across the page and dissolved in the lily pond. Havoc in the air then. A perihelion moment. I felt it before his fast light streaked out of the sky.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2173 Posts

Posted - 06/30/2015 :  21:20:00  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply

Is it better to crash over land or water? Consider the risk in 2015. LAX to JFK? Or John Wayne to Bradley? Innocuous enough? "Bring something to distract you," he said. Photographs between the pages of old journals.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2173 Posts

Posted - 06/30/2015 :  21:38:48  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply

Nothing ever closes here. And prayers take too long to reach Heaven on their perilous skyscraper climb.
*
I had a closet full of black. Occasionally a white collar. A jet-beaded cuff might slip in. All my shoes were high heels. All my shoes were black.
*
The window washer's scaffolding hangs awry. Yellow Police tape on the curb and the sidewalk.
*
A photographer at Pagano Studios kept a fish bowl full of candy bars. I'd bring the elevator man Bit-O-Honeys and BB Bats for his sweet son, Paolo. Paolo was six or seven. He called my hair "all-burnt." "He only likes the one's that pull his fillings out," his kind father said expressing me to the top floor.
*
The city is melting. Heavy heat. In the green park babies are fretting in their expensive English prams. "Best shocks on the street," corporate Daddy says. The nannies sip bottled water from Maine and chat on findmelove.com.

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Ailinn
Windchimer

2173 Posts

Posted - 06/30/2015 :  21:57:06  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply

Days on the road. Pleated light through a tinted windshield. Dust and tumbleweed. Portals foreign and familiar. Thirty miles east of Rancho Mirage and La Quinta is a different kind of desert. Dotted with the ghost towns of Niland, Bombay Beach, and the post-apocalyptic Salton Sea. A 376 square mile body of haunted water directly over the San Andreas fault. Most tourists are hard on the Sea; "...sulfurous air and poison mud pots..." "...topless palm trees like crippled telephone poles..." "...a shoreline that appears to be greyish sand but up close is the crushed skeletons of dead fish..." "...devastation...beyond imagination..." "...this is how the world ends..."

"Some scientists think it's the beginning," he said, changing the station, racing the engine, chasing chimerical characters down the sand-blown road.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2173 Posts

Posted - 07/04/2015 :  19:51:36  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply

All the balconies. All the crumbling cliffs. All the 9% grades and runaway truck ramps on the edge of North America. The edge of the realm of real. Of course he rearranged time. And memory too. Leaning into the past or the future. Equal pools of possibility. The camera would move in close then. The tight one-beat shot. The look. The wire he left connected.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2173 Posts

Posted - 07/05/2015 :  18:42:58  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply

He said "...anything can happen..." And did.

Early Summer morning. House on an anticline cliff. Salt-scoured coastal air where he painted himself out of focus. Choir of acrobatic birds shoulder high. (Are those Pirate ships in the harbor?) On the opposite side of the canvas a woman moves through diffused light. "...like memory..." he said, laying his brush down. Later they drive into town. Pick up the milk and the mail.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2173 Posts

Posted - 07/12/2015 :  18:26:58  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Eve loosens her sarong and hands Adam her Broad Spectrum SPF 30. With a few strokes he has her on canvas. How he loves the light and the fine brushes from Spain to enchant her.

Time passes. Some rainy days. Soon he's pulling the ark through shallow water. His lit cigarette. His granite hair. His God-given anonymous names and lengthy list of things to do.

What happened in County Cavan centuries ago? A place before Baltimore. Pale Poe in his low house stooping through doorways. His breath on the mirror. His everyday disguise. His mystery, absolute.

She falls asleep on his chest confusing his tell-tale heart with an ocean. He searches for pictures to explain the asterisk in their life. Small craft warnings. Shipwrecks and disasters. Sometime in the middle of the night he kicks the covers free and sleeps with his feet escaping. She leans up on one elbow then, brushes the sparks aside.

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BarbraG
Windchimer

1824 Posts

Posted - 07/25/2015 :  21:49:06  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
The rodeo rider says, "If I don't ride, I don't eat !" But, those eight seconds, he can never prepare for ! He climbs on, and holds tight, and just one wrong move can send him home in pieces. Oh, but it will never happen to him...will it? -- Yes, the Daytona 500 last-lap-crash can happen in the arena, just as quickly, and just as horribly. And,so, his loved ones wait, holding their breath each time the gate opens ..... I said ... EACH time the gate opens !!!
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2173 Posts

Posted - 07/28/2015 :  16:54:36  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
...tears running down my cheeks when Brigid yanked my hair into braids early mornings. And always those horrid bows. White for Sunday. Grosgrain-heavy. Fat as breakfast buns. "Oh, you careless girl!" she said when I lost one in the fountains. "Gurrrl," was how she said it. Tears in her County Cork eyes. She had a pineapple canopy bed in her room. And a telescope she sometimes let me look out of. Shooting stars. Ships at sea. Their blinking conversations. She wore Nun's shoes that were silent and starched cotton slips that made a whispering sound she wasn't aware of...

"No glass between us on visiting day," he grins.

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Ailinn
Windchimer

2173 Posts

Posted - 07/29/2015 :  22:13:49  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
"...once upon a time...takes years," he said.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2173 Posts

Posted - 08/03/2015 :  18:06:53  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
What's left of sunset's pale smear fires his imagination. Lambent light against the terracotta. Lush gardens and tassel-topped grasses soon to be blindsided by flame. Ocean-dipped mysteries in thrall under his pentimento brush.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2173 Posts

Posted - 08/03/2015 :  18:21:28  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
He always foresaw the future. The cards on the table. All that ambient light shining through. His gaze so grave. His mouth of invention inventing their days. Her sun-stung cheeks and undone hair in a tangle. Oh! Stubborn they understood. Both born under... The same inclination. "Do this for me..." he said.

"Tell the story... Don't explain it."
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2173 Posts

Posted - 08/06/2015 :  21:11:17  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
The matador's widow lives with her son Santiago on a cliff overlooking Ensenada Bay. She keeps the keys to the small house in the Valle de Guadalupe and a silver Rosary beside her elaborately carved bed.

The "relic" vendor naps in the Harbor with her saucer of pickled carrots and her stickpin of polished bone.

Tanned tourists crowd the hero Boulevards. Red brick streets. Their intentional labyrinthine tangle.

Friday nights Santiago drives out with fresh linens and a hand-embroidered tablecloth.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2173 Posts

Posted - 08/09/2015 :  18:24:33  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
"I heard history. I saw it pass..." she said, "...standing on the sidelines of the crowd. The dust and the horses and the bannered flags. From the beginning. From the Crusades. I saw you in every uniform. Riding forward. Riding into the fray..."
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2173 Posts

Posted - 08/09/2015 :  18:28:52  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
He laughs when those old stolen days sail by. Porthole full of pearl-fog morning. He scolds and cajoles. Oh, yes he does. The tall ship and its Captain. Clean-shaven in his shining white shirt. Near her ear a fugue of words from his mouth of invention when he changes her name every midnight.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2173 Posts

Posted - 08/09/2015 :  18:32:52  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Sure, the stars crowd around him. The angels in Heaven do too.
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