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buckman
Firefly

USA
2820 Posts

Posted - 08/13/2019 :  18:57:34  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply


I sit in the dark of this saloon
Trapped here by my
Own unflagging sense of duty.

My work begins at midnight when
The cowboys step into that next level
Of drunkenness and the dance-hall girls
Stop charging and dance
The way they want to.

Not a sheriff or a marshal or
Even a deputy but everybody knows
Who rules the hours in this dusty town
From Midnight 'til dawn.

So go to sleep, my children...
I'll be here.
Watching.
Making sure that the sin and the sinners
Stay here where they belong
And leave you alone.

The whiskey is just to keep me going.
There is no pleasure for me in it
Anymore.
The times are long gone when a bottle
Or a woman could bring me any amount of
Joy...

Now it is just a matter of
Breathing in the sorrow and
Watching and
Listening and
Waiting.

I'm making a list....



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Ailinn
Windchimer

2173 Posts

Posted - 08/13/2019 :  21:18:52  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Fog-damp night in a village of alleyways and filigree gates. A hush beyond the window. In firelight he tells the story. His shirt on the chair back. His mouth of invention. His gaze through a curtain of smoke. There's the cameo town in amber. The bandstand gazebo. The four-sided clock tower. The bench where they rest in the halcyon then. Quilt on the line. Milk delivery on the porch. Overgrown geranium boxes. The high dresser's cracked mirror doors. Blue hobnail vase in the window. "Save everything..." he says. "Save it all..."
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2820 Posts

Posted - 08/17/2019 :  07:46:26  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
There was never a good time to tell her,
I had too little heart left to share.
I'd lost it on the road one night,
Some days I still almost cared.
Though what's been lost and what's been gained
Still screams my name at night,
The morning's not so far away,
Keep dancing toward the light."



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Ailinn
Windchimer

2173 Posts

Posted - 08/17/2019 :  17:41:29  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
It's not commerce they cross for but the ephemeral room over the cantina. They can't recall the night they stumbled upon it. The niche alley. Scent of orange peel burning. Two dark flights of narrow stairs before they enter the cavernous room. Steep windows overlooking the avenue. Neon wash across high ceilings and walls. An altar-like work surface covered with paint-smeared drop cloths. Long plank benches where indistinct figures appear but do not speak. They wait in silence for the scenes to be revealed. Suddenly, stars scattering. A lightning-striped storm. Toys and musical instruments in a whirling tornado. Landscapes breaking apart and haphazardly fusing together. (The room is so loud now they cover their ears.) A bridge of gold water floats overhead. Frayed blue flowers drift down. Blue trees. A silhouette of a man and a woman through an immense black keyhole. Hand in hand. Far away.

Edited by - Ailinn on 11/16/2019 16:49:51
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2173 Posts

Posted - 08/19/2019 :  18:14:17  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
The artist's name was Mateo. Or Miguel. He called his work Armonía. He only appeared after midnight. He painted images in and out of this world. He painted very quickly and then moved on. One of Revolucion's inscrutable nomads.

Edited by - Ailinn on 08/19/2019 22:09:44
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2820 Posts

Posted - 08/20/2019 :  11:55:21  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
She asked me why I ran away.
I said, Because I couldn’t fly...



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Ailinn
Windchimer

2173 Posts

Posted - 08/22/2019 :  17:35:47  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
The paper he touches before she does. Kids on ponies. Men in big hats. Women with legs in skirts. Car salesmen leaning on Chevy hoods. Humid nights on the lot. Wire pens on the outskirts of town. "The storm comin' down for the hit..." his shoulders shrug under his black shirt. "Sun-up in the east. Down in the west. Seas washin' over the bows. You wanna do this...?" he says. No props in his story. Hands folded in her lap.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2173 Posts

Posted - 08/22/2019 :  17:43:59  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
"Not snow, but cold. Off-season," she says. "A lawn that slopes to a seawall. Past life on the dock. Ferry chugging toward Boston. Halo lights of the Tea Party Harbor. Fog horns and buoy bells. History asleep in its wheelchair. Ash Wednesday's almighty message." His silence. His unblinking stare. "Even then the trains ran north and south..." she says, "...a promise."
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2820 Posts

Posted - 08/24/2019 :  14:45:17  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply


Darlin, I can't make excuses
For the kind of man I've been.
I've paid so many pipers
for so many deadly sins.
I'm not here making promises
Or trying to change your mind.
Just an old man chasing memories
Before the whiskey makes me blind.

[The girl shouldnta danced like that
There oughtta be a law.
She sent me to the floor of Hell
And I bounced back up for more.]

I never heard your crying
In the middle of the night.
I was busy burning bridges
And making up new lies.
The preacher says you lose your soul
When you sniff the devil's breath
The night's couldn't come fast enough
Until the day you left.

[She shimmies and she shakes that thing
Turns a good man over to wild
I still see that red dress in my dreams
Sometimes I even smile.]

We never had the money
But, baby, we had a time,
Golden Gate Park was hot that day
You were my first song that rhymed.
Those magical days of nineteen
Turned to forty overnight
Things get lost along the road
You can never make them right.

The girl shouldnta danced like that
There oughtta be a law.
She sent me to the floor of Hell
And I bounced back up for more.]

[She shimmies and she shakes that thing
Turns a good man over to wild
I still see that red dress in my dreams
Sometimes I even smile.]

The girl shouldnta danced like that
There oughtta be a law.
She sent me to the floor of Hell
And I bounced back up for more.]



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Ailinn
Windchimer

2173 Posts

Posted - 08/24/2019 :  17:51:44  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
"...but that's jus' the way of it..." he says, "...go on..." "You know the story," she says. He doesn't say anything.. "Sassy for Coca-Cola," she shrugs. "Wholesome for General Mills. Ted was my favorite photographer. A manic genius who imported State Line Potato Chips. Drank cases of Mateus Rose. Kept a fishbowl full of candy bars and peanut butter crackers. Had a pampered cat named Tiger and a mother in Queens he adored. In between takes I'd sit shivering in underwear and a barber's cape. He'd toss Tiger's blanket in my lap. When he said 'shut your eyes,' I shut them. Let him blow phony snow in my face. 'Cheekbones,kid!' he'd shout. 'Haute couture!'"

He stands and holds his hands over the fire pit. Moonlight shining his shoulders. Kokopelli guarding the yard. "Write me a letter," he says. "Write every day." Dear Sir... she writes. Rainy Wind Font.

Edited by - Ailinn on 09/04/2019 17:23:31
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2820 Posts

Posted - 08/26/2019 :  11:54:35  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
They stopped at the river.
She knew it was where I hid the moon...

The horse skittered, she danced,
Oh, how Carmelita loved when a horse danced.
And
She loved when she found one of my secret places.

So many places still to find,,,,
She has yet to find where I hid the sun...



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buckman
Firefly

USA
2820 Posts

Posted - 08/28/2019 :  11:22:59  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Jesse Matthew Beukema
Jan 24,1974 - Aug 28, 1992
The best of days and the worst of days.

I dream of you so much
it's like you're still here.
Space inside, partly died,
left on the road with you.

Our buddy,
Our music man.

So much left to teach you and
learn from you.
What a man you would have been!

We miss you our angel...



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Ailinn
Windchimer

2173 Posts

Posted - 09/04/2019 :  16:12:31  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
She sleeps in his shirt stiff with paint. Denim-blue for work. Cut sleeves fraying at the elbows. The season grows colder. The holidays come round. Will you help? they finally ask bringing tea. Silver bells. The chandeliers sparkle. The children have grown.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2173 Posts

Posted - 09/04/2019 :  16:30:38  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
The spinning world spins. His fast car rushes westward. Rips across the desert under the mechanics of stars. Dust whirling in dervishes behind them. His hands steady on the wheel when he spins out in the tamarisk grove. Road ricocheting inside his head. His brazen skill and ragged laugh. She's quiet beside him. Her fingertips on his naked wrist. The rapid pulse there. And in the small space between his sideburns and his ear.

Edited by - Ailinn on 12/09/2019 21:23:17
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2173 Posts

Posted - 09/04/2019 :  16:32:59  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Morning fortress of fog. Foam-flocked at the high-tide mark where their names are buried in sand. And now the bluffs are falling. He said they would.
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2820 Posts

Posted - 09/07/2019 :  16:17:41  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply


There is pain out in the world tonight
And some of it's your very own
Lord, I know you gave it all you had
Somehow that last dream has flown.

Have the spirits all deserted you
Left you to sing your lonesome tune?
Lord, we ask so little and yet so much
Why do the answers never come too soon?

Do not be so hard upon yourself
The world will gladly do that part
Keep what matters flowing freely through your soul
So the truths can reach your heart.

Does it sometimes seem so much to bear
All the work that goes unseen?
Is it the weakest or the strongest ones
That end up going to their knees?

Do not be so hard upon yourself
The world will gladly do that part
Keep what matters flowing freely through your soul
So the truths can reach your heart.

We enter naked and without blame
And day by day we gain and lose
We need the hope our elders promised
We need to find the path to choose

Do not be so hard upon yourself
The world will gladly do that part
Keep what matters flowing freely through your soul
So the truths can reach your heart.



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buckman
Firefly

USA
2820 Posts

Posted - 09/13/2019 :  04:08:25  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply

Mom and Dad took me to the
Old Madison Square Garden in 1959
To see the Roy Roger's Rodeo.

The Sons of the Pioneers sat right
In front of us
Tall on their horses and sang
Cool Water and the horses never moved.

When they sang Tumbling Tumbleweeds
The horses danced sideways like they
Really liked this one.




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Ailinn
Windchimer

2173 Posts

Posted - 09/16/2019 :  17:15:15  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Small wings of dust at her ankles. She's intent on keeping her feet on the ground. Not turn around in the bright humming air. Color and sound she hadn't noticed before. A dozen determined steps before she glances his way. He's still there. He hasn't moved. He doesn't wave. A few more steps before she turns back again. Sun at his shoulders. An outline of sails. A thousand and one...a thousand and two... Seconds tick by. He's laughing when he walks away. She knows what will happen now.

Edited by - Ailinn on 12/09/2019 21:26:45
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2173 Posts

Posted - 09/16/2019 :  17:21:38  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Embarcadero. "Whole days in old places," he says. "Other books...other lives..." "The great age of crossers," she says. "They came separately. Two boats. My father on adventure. Cold nights in the hold. My mother on something with champagne flutes and deck chairs. He was in the hotel business. He had a thick brogue. She was an ethereal stranger who floated over croquet lawns under a lace parasol. Her feet never touched the ground. He put me to sleep with extravagant stories. Left in the middle of one."
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2173 Posts

Posted - 09/16/2019 :  17:30:18  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
"...our own language," he says. "That story. Remember...?" "Four beaver pelts down on Amsterdam..." she laughs, "...lashed to the rail for the rooftop shot." "One wish this moment..." he says, and squeezes her hand. "Unchaperoned," she says. "Oh, Lord!" he says, "Oh, Lord..." Urban twilight. Sky half dark with wings. Fingers laced. Wrists humming. "We're gettin' better at this," he says.
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