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Karen Runk
Firefly

USA
4925 Posts

Posted - 01/29/2006 :  18:33:47  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Send Karen Runk an AOL message  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
quote:
Originally posted by Ailinn

Intermission. I can hear them shouting on the hill. Merciful. Not killing. Human hair and Kitty Litter. Showing up in garbage bags by our blue front door. To foil the gophers. "Cute little things," I mistakenly say. "Never should have let you see them," Stu says. "War is war."




NO NO NO NO......try another flavor of gum.

Karen Runk
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aussiedave
Swinger

Australia
509 Posts

Posted - 01/30/2006 :  01:34:10  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Send aussiedave a Yahoo! Message  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
you're in my blood
like holy wine

you taste so bitter
and so sweet

oh I could drink
a case of you,darlin'
and I would still
be on my
feet

I would still
be on my feet

..Joni Mitchell.


Maybe,the sun won't shine
maybe,the stars won't mind
for every dream
I dream is sure to not
come true

cause baby, I never did love you....

..Mickey Newbury

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Doug L
Firefly

Canada
5446 Posts

Posted - 02/02/2006 :  00:43:27  Show Profile  Visit Doug L's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
I don't like this world a lot as others move to claim it
There's another place I know and take the time to name it
A realm of soul, invisible, evasive, shadow bound
Some say it's in the air we breathe, I say it's in the ground
Like coins that wait for digging, our forgotten histories
Where earthworms shine the silver of our oldest mysteries
Not to see, but feel again, the spirit that prevails
Welcomed back by valkyries with dirty fingernails

DL


visit http://www.betterdaysradio.blogspot.com
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Doug L
Firefly

Canada
5446 Posts

Posted - 02/02/2006 :  21:20:26  Show Profile  Visit Doug L's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
GOOD ROOM

In this best room, only a kitchen,
touch cloth -- in towels -- touch
metal stove, wooden cupboards.
Look down the breadboard: scars
time never needs to overcome.

The easy refrigerator door closes like this:
"Forgive." Inside, a light goes to sleep
comfortably, friend of lettuce, admired
by the eggs; and the meditative motor
suggests winter, then pauses all night.

Room that gives life, alone with independent
spices content just to be in their jars:
while we live may your way be ours.
May we never forget your order, the various
world brought by recipes to anyone's taste --

The work of many made into one home.

--William Stafford
Lake Oswego, Oregon



visit http://www.betterdaysradio.blogspot.com
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Doug L
Firefly

Canada
5446 Posts

Posted - 02/07/2006 :  00:41:43  Show Profile  Visit Doug L's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
I was listening to Krista Detor of Indiana, her new album, Mudshow.
Listening to her voice, two words come to mind: kahlua and cello.
As the last song ends and the echo of her words, "Glory, sister,
glory..." decays to silence, I see a long wood-paneled hallway
alight with candles. There are mirrors, too, and a ricochet of
reflections making it impossible to know how many candles there
are. At the far end of the hallway, a door is open, and through
it I can see the chalk-blue light of the moon in the fields beyond.


visit http://www.betterdaysradio.blogspot.com

Edited by - Doug L on 02/07/2006 00:42:11
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Doug L
Firefly

Canada
5446 Posts

Posted - 02/07/2006 :  22:14:06  Show Profile  Visit Doug L's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
At the farm off McKenzie Highway, the old motorhome sleeps,
windows steamed as though there's still a warm breath inside,
seeds homesteading in the crack in the door jamb dirt.
Tires going flat, it snuggles into the barn's back wall.
Light streams careen above us on the road, people heading home.

visit http://www.betterdaysradio.blogspot.com
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2249 Posts

Posted - 02/09/2006 :  21:09:17  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
"I live on the Rincon," Yolanda says. "Three driveways past the Chairman." "How long you been out there?" Ramon asks. Thinking of Bob Limping Bear. The Tribal Chairman. And Bobby White Sox. His second in command. Three of his ex's not welcome at the Casino. Three sad stories running up tabs around town.
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Doug L
Firefly

Canada
5446 Posts

Posted - 02/10/2006 :  22:21:43  Show Profile  Visit Doug L's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
FOR ANNE

With Annie gone,
Whose eyes to compare
With the morning sun?

Not that I did compare,
But I do compare
Now that she's gone.

* * * * *

AS THE MIST LEAVES NO SCAR

As the mist leaves no scar
On the dark green hill,
So my body leaves no scar
On you, nor ever will.

When wind and hawk encounter,
What remains to keep?
So you and I encounter,
Then turn, then fall to sleep.

As many nights endure
Without a moon or star,
So will we endure
When one is gone and far.

-Leonard Cohen

from The Spice-Box Of Earth (1961)


Edited by - Doug L on 02/10/2006 22:22:27
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booty
Sitter

USA
93 Posts

Posted - 02/11/2006 :  20:38:18  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
"Your head is the ladder, bring it down under your feet.
The mind, this globe of awareness, is a starry universe,
that when you push off you foot,
a thousand new roads become clear.."

"In any gathering, in any chance meeting on the street,
there is a shine, an elegance rising up." (Rumi Odes)
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Doug L
Firefly

Canada
5446 Posts

Posted - 02/12/2006 :  23:30:22  Show Profile  Visit Doug L's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Orpheus In Greenwich Village

What if Orpheus,
confident in the hard-
found mastery,
should go down into Hell?
Out of the clean light down?
And then, surrounded
by the closing beasts
and readying his lyre,
should notice, suddenly,
they had no ears?

Jack Gilbert


visit http://www.betterdaysradio.blogspot.com
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Doug L
Firefly

Canada
5446 Posts

Posted - 02/17/2006 :  00:34:23  Show Profile  Visit Doug L's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Driving home from the radio station after midnight, I see
six girls waiting for the last Dunbar bus, huddled against
minus 20 wind chill in skirts, inward-turned circle, sharing
one cigarette between them. What once was a campfire is now
reduced to an orange spark. Drive down the hill, past the loop,
see the driver reading a book, warm inside the empty bus.

visit http://www.betterdaysradio.blogspot.com
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Jonmark
Windchimer

USA
1791 Posts

Posted - 02/22/2006 :  23:34:56  Show Profile  Visit Jonmark's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Remember where you came from, where you're going, and why you created the mess you got yourself into in the first place.

You're going to die a horrible death, remember.
It's all good training, and you'll enjoy it more if you keep the facts in mind.

Take your dying with some seriousness, however. Laughing on the way to your execution is not generally understood by less advanced life forms, and they'll call you crazy.

~ Richard Bach ~
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Doug L
Firefly

Canada
5446 Posts

Posted - 02/23/2006 :  00:45:00  Show Profile  Visit Doug L's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
I don't consider myself a great poet in terms of writing poetry.
In my prayer life I turn into a poet. I no longer separate my
life from my prayer. I still set aside time for prayer, but
there is a difference between saying prayers and being prayer.

-Macrina Wiederkehr, O.S.B.



Edited by - Doug L on 02/23/2006 06:49:07
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2249 Posts

Posted - 02/24/2006 :  22:24:11  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
In the long-distant past they danced at the cobbled edge of Durrow. A thousand years. A thousand miles of moor or more. Dark sky overhead. Rain mostly. His cold fingers numbing. His heart, a flame set on High. O, the path they must travel. Hell and high-water. No fork-in-the road to trick History here. His voice alive in her ruby-stung ears.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2249 Posts

Posted - 02/26/2006 :  15:19:11  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
It was September '87. It was a Friday night. 'Cause of Santa Ana winds what ended up happening was. The power blows out all over Burbank. The winds start kicking up sin. The car's rockin' and rollin'. Side to side. Me and the AD just sit in the limo and smoke cigarettes all night. Now there's this scene where they're up on the roof. Just as they pan down to street-level a palm tree catches on fire. "I gotta get that," the second unit camera guy says. Okay. I stick my hand out and shake his. The rest is History.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2249 Posts

Posted - 03/03/2006 :  20:54:44  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Light grows by leaps and bounds. From high windows. White flowers. Embroidered on the sky. Hand-hemmed pillow cases. Looking out from that shuttered sea window. Salt on the screen. Chimes in the northwest corner. There's the beveled pane, now. All fractured light and twisted trees. Groves and low orchards behind them. And heavy air. A fragrance they can lean on. "The real deal!" he says, defiantly alive. "Hahaha," she says, "you watch too much Television."
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2249 Posts

Posted - 03/05/2006 :  18:37:19  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Standing in line at the triple A counter. A gratutious Sunday morning. The clerk explains how the title transfers "acrobatically". "I mean, autoMAtically," she laughs, correcting herself. The Cirque de Soliel is performing across the Freeway. Their posters on utility poles all over town. In hot hedges outside the Auto Club, irridescent hummingbirds hover. Sipping from outlandish Birds of Paradise. Suspended in mid-air. Long drinks while their costumed wings shimmer. With the Pink Slip in my pocket I head for the market and home. The kids want to stop for lemon ices. The sun rests it's color at the horizon's razor edge. Wide crimson spreading. Mexico to Malibu.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2249 Posts

Posted - 03/05/2006 :  18:43:23  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
"Ah, Senor," Fernando says, "the guitars are quiet tonight." The filigreed silver cross in the corner. The shuttered window. The studded lemon-lime light. His one hundred reflections in the rear-view mirror in the middle of the night. The last ride out of town.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2249 Posts

Posted - 03/12/2006 :  18:56:42  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
WITH JUAREZ AT THE CAFE LUPE

We've been friends long enough, he says
Patting the tortillas dry
Letting some cigarette ash fall into the cornmeal
I look up from the shredded lettuce and cheese
He gets edgy when I don't meet his eyes
So I look up
But I don't say a word
Hey
No use fishing for trouble
And look at him
Something is about to sneak up on him
And he knows it
Today is a special occasion
We rig a canopy over the well
And put folding chairs out for the women
I set the tables with platters
And large wooden bowls for the salads
At every sixth place is salsa and chips
Pepper sauce and Tabasco
So nobody has to reach far, he says
Placing himself in the center
And measuring the distance with the spread of his arms
He leans in his boots in the doorway
While I finish taping the paper tablecloths down
I know by his look that he likes it
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2249 Posts

Posted - 03/13/2006 :  19:46:28  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Holes in the cloudbank. Stars showing through. Salt and sealight under a glitter-bright sky. His Spirit in the galley bent to remembering. Red right returning. Welcome three bells.
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