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Ailinn
Windchimer

2173 Posts

Posted - 11/02/2018 :  19:23:25  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Different energy when he wears the black shirt with deep cuffs. Riot of ideas ricocheting. He presses the tips of his fingers together. Truth serum flooding his veins. Prism colors. Brief interruptions in the bookmarked world. He likes to sit on the deck in the dark when the stars are missing. Midnight eyes. Faraway ships on the water. All those out of town stories. Urgent and insisting.
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2820 Posts

Posted - 11/03/2018 :  06:49:56  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Whistle me a up a tune, Mick
My heart is breaking in two
I'm spending the nite with
my closest friends,
Her memory, a bottle and you.
Sing me a sad one like only you can
I know there's more left in this heart
It's a long train we're runnin
Gettin faster each day
But we've come so far from the start

What ever she took,
she took me by chance,
It was all we could do just to stand
The first days were wild
The nites all aglow
There was still time for holding hands.
Some things you lose
Others you burn
Some just get taken away
Nights filled with whiskey,
The days fueled by pills
It's gonna stop hurting today

So, Whistle me up a tune, Mick
The night is just right for two.
An empty glass toast
to beginnings and ends
Her memory, a bottle and you.
Sing us of ramblin and shining blue skies
Fade the words right into my heart
It's a long road we're drivin
But gettin shorter each day
We've come so far from the start

Sometimes all it takes
Is one little dance
You feel it, she's holding your hand
The days of the child
The years watching him grow
Are stored safe in another land
Sounds like the blues
But some days you learn
Some just get taken away
Words chase the whiskey,
The mountains are hills
It's gonna stop hurting today

So, Whistle me up a tune, Mick
The night is just right for two.
An empty glass toast
to beginnings and ends
Her memory, a bottle and you.
Sing us of ramblin and shining blue skies
Fade the words right into my heart
It's a long road we're drivin
But gettin shorter each day
We've come so far from the start



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buckman
Firefly

USA
2820 Posts

Posted - 11/04/2018 :  14:02:58  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
After the Fiesta,
with the little town and my family dead,
I need to be alone...

I ride North and East for many days
Where to be October means something.
Where I ran and fished and hunted
As a child and learned the ways
Of the woods and of the Great One.
The trees are aflame in their private moondance of fire.
Against the blue of the Hudson River
Reflecting the cliff face of Storm King,
It plays the illusion the Old Ones called
Riverdeep mountainhigh.

There is and will be another story for each of us.
The long golden tale of each precious life.
Some filled with love, Some filled with loss,
Mostly a measure of both.

Every turn in the river
Takes the story to a new place.
Some we choose and some are chosen for us.
But, we are each of us even Now, immortal.
Whether to Heaven or Hell eventually,
our spirits will All be Forever...
That choice is always ours and ours alone...

How dim sometimes the Light
we follow seems.
But when we get out from the towns
and their false glow that Robs our vision;
Out under nothing but the sky and His face,
Our eyes will again divine the light and
The path thru the forest will shine like the Sun.

I smile to think of my past families,
Now gone on high, that walked this riverbank
With me so long ago.
They were so like the October trees,
Aflame and dancing with color and
Great beauty just before their private
Winter came and turned them gray.

In the creeping darkness, I whisper a prayer
That they would greet me in the spring
As the trees will, Reborn and ready
For another fling around the dance floor.



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Ailinn
Windchimer

2173 Posts

Posted - 11/04/2018 :  17:27:55  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Ninth birthday. An unimportant one. I was longing for two numbers. Men in dark suits by the trees. Words, I suppose on the stone later. I didn't choose them. Didn't pack up the trunks or the houses. The bank and the church and the judges did that. All tidy. Monsignor gave me an Infant of Prague holy card for my Missal. Baby Jesus dressed up with a crown. And a small box of chocolate-covered cherries. I still like them. He rests his hands over hers. "I wasn't sad," she says, "I was angry." "I know..." he says and he holds her hands tighter. He has a theory about that. "Nothin' disappears..." he says, "...put away but not gone. A deeper well to draw from..." When the wind picks up he steps in front of her. "C'mon..." he says, still holding her hand.

Edited by - Ailinn on 01/10/2019 17:41:19
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2173 Posts

Posted - 11/04/2018 :  17:38:56  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
"Sooooo..." he says, "...what day is today...?" Marmalade light through the trees. Bright pages. "...let's jus' drive..." he says, "...go where we're gonna go seein' so much." He likes Little Italy where anything can happen. Planes flying out of Michelangelo clouds. Their low wings in the crosswalks. Coffee and curbside café tables. A woman on the corner of India and West Hawthorne reading palms while her furniture is loaded onto a van. A tray of incense cones burning at her beaded bare feet. "The day's flow of color," he says. He likes the ships in the red sunset harbor. Swami's. The steep hills in Cardiff. The glow on the road. The alleyways quick surprises. Streets that end at the beach, "...jus' like that!"
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2820 Posts

Posted - 11/04/2018 :  17:47:36  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
The first time he saw a picture of her
Was the last time he was alive.
Knowing he would never have her at all
Was a thief that robbed all his drive.

She wasn't just cute, she wasn't just pretty
She was all that from here to Mars
The awful truth can taste so bitter
But it makes no difference to the stars.

The best things in life are free they say,
But you could never tell that by him
That night he burned all his candles at once
Now the sea and the sky have grown dim

The pain and the grief, the peace and the joy
Take a lifetime learning to tame
When you first hit the air as you leap from the cliff
Is the moment you know it's no game.

The nights slowly become eternal alone
Like one day to a fly on the wall
The sound of heartbreak and the wind in your ears
Are the melody you hear as you fall.

She wasn't just cute, she wasn't just pretty
She was all that from here to Mars
The awful truth can taste so bitter
But it makes no difference to the stars.




Edited by - buckman on 11/04/2018 17:50:53
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2173 Posts

Posted - 11/10/2018 :  15:05:16  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Somewhere in the Mojave. The blacktop melting like licorice on a griddle. Shimmer mirage in the air. Heat heavy like a thick drug. Fingers stiff. Knees shaking. Sparks when he reaches out and brushes her cheek with the back of his knuckles. "Put your shoes on before you get out of the car," he says.

Edited by - Ailinn on 07/25/2020 18:04:16
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2173 Posts

Posted - 11/10/2018 :  15:12:33  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Windshield stories. History in the rearview mirror. His hands tanned and steady on the wheel. Miles backtracking on the odometer. "...what's just around the corner..." he says. Wet light in the road. Rain-threaded light. Sky flashing that high way over water. A hundred thunder miles. Steep cliffs and split canyons. Riven ground. The deep sea with its drowned volcanos. The earth's elaborate balance and precision. He's intent on finding the erstwhile world. A tapestry map with a legend. Explicit and certain. An X that says you are here.

Edited by - Ailinn on 11/10/2018 15:32:18
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2173 Posts

Posted - 11/10/2018 :  15:19:08  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
"...one more thing I want you to think about now..." he says. Back to Eden. Six wet miles at high tide. A little mania on the horizon. A little dazzle. Ardent Kodachrome skies. "Alright..." he says like an edict when she nods. Like they're getting away with a crime. The Sailor and The Mute Fortune Teller caught in the abalone light of late afternoon. "We don't need a lotta words," he says. Everything we don't say means the same thing."
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2820 Posts

Posted - 11/11/2018 :  08:35:23  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
I hear the whispers everywhere
Some I almost recognize
Her red hair on her shoulders
Her fingers on my thighs.

[Baby don't want to leave me
I'm living enough for two,
The whiskey helps the pills go down
What's a proud man gonna do?]

It's only when they're talking
That my mind seems to work at all,
She brought the glory to October
In the Hudson Valley fall.

[We drove across those amber plains
Nuthin but loving on our minds,
The music helped the pain go down
We followed the white lines.]

She loved to talk to Mickey
They'd cough and wheeze all night
There were nights when we were almost sane
There were days the sun was bright.

[Baby don't want to leave me
I'm living enough for two,
The whiskey helps the pills go down
What's a proud man gonna do?]

Every night about this time
The whispers seem to stop
She left a nightgown on my door
The other shoe won’t drop.

[We drove across those amber plains
Nuthin but loving on our minds,
The music helped the pain go down
We were two times two of a kind.]

I hear the whispers everywhere
Some I almost recognize
Her red hair on her shoulders
Her fingers on my thighs.
Ghosts of memories don't linger
I chant that every night
Waiting for a day when I'm almost sane
And a night when the stars are bright.



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Ailinn
Windchimer

2173 Posts

Posted - 11/17/2018 :  19:34:38  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Late light dissolving in the channel under the trestle bridge. White rooms. White walls with pegs by the door. Santa Fe fireplace in the corner. Enough heat for now. Salt-weathered deck where they watch the Sugar Land dredgers moving sand by the ton. A permanent egret in the lagoon. Cattails. Ship lights on the water. His easels draped and undraped. His impetuous palette. His brushes hanging upside-down. His fingerprints on the cupboards and closet door. "Well, now..." he says. Later they sip old tequila and listen to the little sparrow sing No Regrets. Mail on the hall table unopened for weeks.
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2820 Posts

Posted - 11/18/2018 :  00:28:44  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Murmers turn into whispers
Whispers turn into cries.
A scream heads for forever
In the valley of darkening skies.
Summer's oven blows full blast
The sound is now a shout
Hazy hot and humid
You're heading for a drought.

It's not the age that matters
It's the mileage on your soul
It's making all the pieces fit
That make the damn thing whole.
Did you lose him in a snowstorm?
Did you lose her in the rain?
Did you lose him to the laughter?
Did you lose her to the pain?

Did you share in her last sorrow?
Did you heal another's grief?
Some mornings brings you mercy
Some midnites bring a thief.
They have no clock they keep for you
To tell you when you'll heal
Some mornings find you dancing
Some nights you have to kneel.

It's not the age that matters
It's the mileage on your soul
It's making all the pieces fit
That make the damn thing whole.

Every river you've run so far
Has brought you to this place
The days and nights you've struggled
Full of folly, full of grace.
Redemption has a taste to it
It's like honey on your tongue
The musky smell of romance
When all the bells have rung

Murmers turn into whispers
Whispers turn into cries.
A scream heads for forever
In the valley of darkening skies.




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buckman
Firefly

USA
2820 Posts

Posted - 11/21/2018 :  01:04:23  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
It's a Helluva thing,
Infantile paralysis of the soul.

Hardening of the hearteries.
Fear in the dead of nite
so real it has teeth.

Immunity temporarily misplaced.
Drastic change daily.

Pendulums fight for the last spot on stage.
Terry-cloth cavaliers catch lost generations.
Home on the range on the carnival calliope.
Many rivers crossed but still swimming.

Do ya
do ya
do ya
wanna dance
under the moonlight?



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buckman
Firefly

USA
2820 Posts

Posted - 11/21/2018 :  15:23:44  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
THANKSGIVING DAY WITH RALPH [THE HUDSON RIVER BiPOLAR BEAR]
AND REV BUCKMAN

Ralph [[ the Hudson River BiPolar bear]] was downstairs dancing to Ray Charles singing Eleanor Rigbyand watching dirty movies on cable...

I said, Ralphie, what are you thankful for?

He said, [[ Um, Jameson's, Ray Charles and, uh, dirty movies...]]

Wow, I said, you really have a small window you look out of, don't you?

Rev Buckman was sitting out back just staring at the woods...
I said, Rev, how about you?

He said, between God the Devil and you,
everything I have ever loved has been taken from me.
The baby, the women.... The pills...
Just what I gotta be thankful for?

I said, You are lucky that I don't kill you off,
you can be thankful for that, okay, curmudgeon?

I said, Guys, listen up...
Today is the day when Americans go to the storeroom of their souls and take an inventory and appreciate what they have that many, many others do not...

I said, it's a tradition and it's one of those things that let's us stop for a minute and look back and look ahead and kind of put a pin in the map of the Universe that says, YOU ARE HERE.

Then I thanked the Gods that I sometimes talked to and sometimes even talked to me, for being alive and sober for one more day...

That's it.
They know the rest,
that's why they got the job as Gods...

Besides, everything else is just gravy...



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Ailinn
Windchimer

2173 Posts

Posted - 11/21/2018 :  18:09:13  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
"Listen..." he says. His voice through American wire. She's not even cautious. Knows everything burns and, "...once upon a time takes forever..." Outdoor cafes. Rental cars in airport garages. Jet spooling up on the runway. Direct flight. No layover when you're afraid to fly.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2173 Posts

Posted - 11/21/2018 :  18:20:37  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Her head bowed. Her hair falling. Her fingers playing with the tortoise shell comb he found at Batiquitos Lagoon. "...so hard for you to say...?" he says. Psychiatrist or a good Priest. Shining childhood. Croquet lawns. Cobbled corners and clock towers. High-bannister widow's walks. Like smash cuts in film. Covert damage. Consequence without cause. Later gargoyles. Her own Rosary. A scatter of rice on the floor. Kneel now. Every thought a venial sin or more. Klieg lights. Express elevator in the hotel. Room Service coffee on-call. The Park. The Planetarium. The Knight with the star. Random wolves in the diorama rooms. The man in the moon on the fire escape. The game of don't think now. He wants it all. Not the way she tells it. Flat without inflection. Smiling in the wrong places. He has the stories but he wants what's behind the words. She knows why. A deep breath. Tears on her ivory blouse. His inviolate trust. One and only.

Edited by - Ailinn on 01/10/2019 17:42:45
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2173 Posts

Posted - 11/21/2018 :  18:31:37  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
"...think before you touch the cards..." he says. "Your energy... Where you want it to go." He cuts the deck and taps it with two fingers. So much at stake when he grins. There's fog over the sink. Red blur of the hummingbird feeder. Light dripping off the ice plant. Kokopelli drunk in the yard. "You first..." she says when fate intervenes and the room becomes slightly unmoored. "Two outta three..." he laughs after the first game.

Edited by - Ailinn on 07/13/2019 17:14:35
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2820 Posts

Posted - 11/23/2018 :  17:43:41  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Love went from forever to memories
In the time it took them to blink
Romance is just a wisp of smoke
It disappears when you stop to think.

They fit together, damaged and broken.
Eyes wide open, dreams unspoken
Hearts left alone get tired and weak
Turn hard and cold, no breath left to speak

Forever to memories in the blink of an eye,
Happily ever after falling out of the sky,
Do dreams become wishes and wishes become lies?
Surrender's alright, we see with more than our eyes.

Eyes were recognized, stumbling round in the dark
Unfamiliar explosions, dancing on sparks,
Nights they went crazy, the days they went sane,
Desire fed the river that drowned out the pain

The same spirits haunt them both at night
Whispering shadows, doubts and fears.
Yesterday's hopes are tomorrow's choices
Moments of passion, hours of tears.

Forever to memories in the blink of an eye,
Happily ever after falling out of the sky,
Dreams become wishes and wishes become lies,
Surrender's alright, we see with more than our eyes.



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buckman
Firefly

USA
2820 Posts

Posted - 11/28/2018 :  09:11:44  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
The evening comes
but never soon enough.
As I watch the last sliver of sun
disappear behind the mountain
she opens the door.

The room is filled by the scent of woman
and vanilla.
As she fits her small body onto mine
I said,
Why did you come back?

She said,
I told you you'd never see me again,
But if it's dark... well....

Then her voice got husky and
I stopped thinking about writing a poem...



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Ailinn
Windchimer

2173 Posts

Posted - 12/02/2018 :  18:57:48  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
We took all the children to Anza Borrego to see the meteor shower and Ricardo Breceda's metal mirage. Raptors. Mammoths, scorpions, and dinosaurs. Creatures fifteen feet tall with sickle teeth randomly appearing on the desert floor. A three hundred fifty foot long dragon crossing the road. We walked to some but drove to most. Objects are farther than they appear. After midnight we settled in a wide wash to watch the Phaethon meteor show from the asteroid Palladian. Geminids in the night sky. Like ballroom globes with glittering dust trails. Anza Borrego is a dark sky designation. I think of people who cross the desert at night and don't know the sculptures are there.

Edited by - Ailinn on 12/03/2018 09:24:59
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