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Ailinn
Windchimer
2217 Posts |
 Posted - 10/28/2004 : 19:07:29
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Reverend Buckman~
Was the bass players name Skeeter?
Keep drivin'. |
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buckman
Firefly
USA
2829 Posts |
Posted - 10/28/2004 : 19:09:31
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"And there is a Catskill eagle in some souls that can alike dive down into the blackest gorges, and soar out of them again and become invisible in the sunny spaces. And even if he forever flies within the gorge, that gorge is in the mountains; so that even in his lowest swoop the mountain eagle is still higher than the other birds upon the plain, even though they soar"
Herman Melville |
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buckman
Firefly
USA
2829 Posts |
Posted - 10/28/2004 : 19:14:53
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Ailinn~
Skeeter was his last name...
Mo was his first..
Rev |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2217 Posts |
Posted - 10/28/2004 : 19:23:21
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| When I lived in the Catskills...I couldn't sleep. |
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buckman
Firefly
USA
2829 Posts |
Posted - 10/28/2004 : 19:45:57
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I slept once, in the Catskills for 20 years...
When I awoke a man was standing at my feet...
He said, The answer is Washington,Irving..."
I said, The question is, "Who was the First President, Sam?"
I used to look at Sleepy Hollow from my bedroom window... This is our time of year...
Rip |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2217 Posts |
Posted - 10/28/2004 : 20:42:56
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Doves in the palm trees, mice in the ivy. Ghosts flying out from under the eaves. "Tell the truth," he says seeing everything. His shine and blue heart way. God knows we're trying. Running under hollow Heaven picking fig leaves on our way out of the Garden.
Taking my neighbor to buy curtains tomorrow. He is nearly blind. "Curtains?..." I say. He says, "Don't see more into this than there is." Oh-oh. A Lady waiting in the wings. |
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Ron L.
Swinger
USA
675 Posts |
Posted - 10/29/2004 : 10:24:50
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The Forest Service road is about 500
ft above the river on the south side.
It is very strange in this somewhat wild
area that there are occasional curbs on
the river side covered with green moss.
An occasional pickup stops but for the moment,
he prefers to walk. The sound of a boat drones
from below and some still carry the mail upriver.
This area of Oregon is a fisherman's dream and it's
easy to imagine Zane Grey in the 20's and Clark
Gable in the 40's casting for trout and steelhead.
The road has a broad canopy of unbroken growth. There
are alders with their Dalmation trunks on either side
along with firs that may go back thousands of years.
Ferns are everywhere. You can see and hear hawks with
their cries bouncing off the canyon. The time goes by,
neither fast nor slow. He has willed it that way;
fast enough to race the pain, slow enough to caress
her memory.
He thinks if he ever quits snoking, the thing he would
miss the most would be the actions that go along with it;
tapping the end, flicking the lighter as you cupped
your hands, and that first reflective drag as part
of your mind drifts with the smoke. He leaned against
a tall pine, looked down at the flowing majesty
and thought...it's really harder to cry
when you're smoking. |
Edited by - Ron L. on 10/29/2004 10:26:22 |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2217 Posts |
Posted - 10/30/2004 : 20:21:41
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Words fall from his mouth far away
Eerily wise
Her heart leaves to go with him
Her hands too
A full moon on the rooftop
Broken Mercury
Look to history
The road traveled before
The same moon in the attic
The same salty stars on the stairs
The same stumbling boots on the Boulevard
Hearts breaking in slow motion
Again |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2217 Posts |
Posted - 10/31/2004 : 07:17:16
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~For All Hallows Eve~
The key falls to the ground at the Checkpoint. Guards change into uniforms of burnt paper. Crows with sharp-shooter eyes plot crimes from high wires. Leaves curl and rattle on the trees. The sun slides impaled on a stake, even as it it rising. Black gulls fly out of the black sea. Dip your hands in that cold water. How could this not happen today?
AND FOR YOU...
The Witch Watch, Magician. |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2217 Posts |
Posted - 10/31/2004 : 18:00:09
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~*~
The crows all have glass eyes and the Border Guards are bad shots at any range. White doves appear to be black against a blue sky at sunrise.
The Truth is in the ancient word, Well. We will gather at the Well. For water is...so precious. Here...have a cup of water.
All is well...as it should be. There is nothing to fear.
~Mickey Newbury~
October 31, 2000 |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2217 Posts |
Posted - 11/05/2004 : 21:51:58
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| You have to cross the tracks before you get to the beach. Cross the railroad tracks everyday. Kids feeding KIX to the seagulls. Big surf today. But 63, not 70, when sun flares the windows momentarily blind. Hey! You up there in your piney wood... What dawn falls over the wall tomorrow? The stars plot their courses, sun-shot. Checking into The Lost Hotel. |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2217 Posts |
Posted - 11/06/2004 : 19:25:18
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The night does not close without him
Her breath fogs the lighthouse window
Where she waits for his tall ships' arrival
The broken coast curves
Stars litter the star-strewn sea
Fervently devoted to water
Engraving the waves where they fall
Darkness deepens
And a truth shines on the ocean
His bright soul
Still holding her heart hostage |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2217 Posts |
Posted - 11/07/2004 : 18:41:00
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When I lived in the other country... Oh... Hundreds of years ago. The sea was at my door. A colder sea for sure. The sky was low. Filled with wailing cries. The men of my village made small vessels from hide. Currachs that flew weightless o'er the water. A rescue fleet to save ships from the vengeful, rocky places. Ah... They had another purpose. Sinners they put into these tiny boats. Set them on the brine. No food, no water, no oars. Sun-blind by day. At night, the spinning stars. Delirious with fear and hunger. Chilled by salt-mist air. Prayers flung into the ocean. And then a light from a far-off land. A shallow shine through epic fog was how she found this shore.
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2217 Posts |
Posted - 11/07/2004 : 18:43:16
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| "The Ocean is always looking for a way into your boat." ~ The U. S. Coast Guard, on lifesaving ~ |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2217 Posts |
Posted - 11/08/2004 : 19:23:51
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| They come late to the shop together. The fireman and the guy who fixes the fire extinguishers. They check the tags tied with wire. Take the tanks outside to the truck. Stare at the darkening sky. And the menu that just lit up across the street in the window of Blue Lucy's Cantina. "Monday Special ~ Carne Asada Burrito." They do something I don't see. My new tags are punched NOVEMBER 2005 - DO NOT REMOVE BY ORDER OF THE STATE FIRE MARSHALL. "Have a great night!" they say, and cross the street to Lucy. |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2217 Posts |
Posted - 11/09/2004 : 18:34:19
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| Taking my neighbor shopping tomorrow after work. A birthday present for his lady, Catherine. "What do you think of a cashmere shawl?" he asks me. "I think it says love," I say. "Let's go for it, then," he says. Catherine is 71. Eleven years a widow. Mr. Gardener is a little bit older. 76 or 77, I think. He's not saying. Legally blind now. It happened gradually over the past several years. I took him for his "daylight" driving test 5 years ago. My hand at his elbow. Grim smile when he said, "an' if I don't pass, I jus' go to work on these," and he slapped his legs. He didn't pass. And now he's found himself, "...a real fine lady with wheels!" Oh, love in the tinsel Mall tomorrow! |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2217 Posts |
Posted - 11/09/2004 : 21:55:11
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| We are sleeping on the desert. Halfway between San Lupe and the Valle de San Ynez. It takes a long time to get here by horseback. The trail is trecherous and does not love the traveler. We make the campfire fast. One minute the horizon is in flames. Then the sun sets. The Guards are restless. The worm dreams in the bottle they pass on hand-to-hand. Moonlight does not please them. Paseo Del Norte is closed, they say. He knows another way. |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2217 Posts |
Posted - 11/10/2004 : 19:26:48
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Ranch spilling over
Opposite sides of the road
Sun honey-tonguing
His generous childhood sky
Early winter mornings
Common as Monday's full line
She talks in her sleep
He hears cards being shuffled in his
Watches as they work their way
Expertly out of his hands
Sunsets ripen the rim of the horizon
Years of leaning toward this same view
From a room where dormers vault
To the blue
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2217 Posts |
Posted - 11/11/2004 : 19:14:16
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"Have you ever noticed how we as little boys would leave behind the very...very expensive toy and return to the tried and true stick horsey...or...Momma's dish towel that all at once would become Superman's cape! Off the roof of the house in a moment of madness...or...faith...only to find yourself face down in the mud with all the breath you would need for next week knocked out of you..."
~Mickey Newbury
October 10, 2000~
Love and blessings to the Wizard...and his beautiful Porch.
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Craig
Firefly
Kyrgyzstan
3793 Posts |
Posted - 11/12/2004 : 05:56:36
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Sitting in the corner of the dark room,
Alone with nothing but my thoughts.
The glow of the cigarette illuminates the room
like a firefly at each draw.
there is no satisfaction,
no smoke can be seen.
So I light another,
and another.
craig |
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The Nightly Vigil