Showing posts from January, 2017

Looking Forward Through a Rear View Mirror

Michael, when you toss a handful of sand  to fall upon the tepid sea foam, do you ever imagine each grain a day? Or when turning pages of a favorite novel you crave to finish but never end, does that unturned prose you cradle remind you your own is more feather than stone?
Every morning you blow away thunderheads to let sunshine bathe your grateful skin.  Before you enter life’s untidy theater, beneath garish spotlights unforgiving, twirling for bills from hands of lechers,  just remember why you groove: You dance because you can.
Remember those faces left behind: addicts of self-abuse, junkies of icepick cones victims of machine-gun attrition self-medicating with flasks of mercury,  bulldozing their lives into empty lots while you plant useless lilies and scrape away the blood-caked soil.
The impostors too, like the one who paid his loans  by asking to be murdered to collect insurance— Oh, I may be dead but I pay my debts—  or the other whose stage exit required  pyrotechnics of the…

A Few More Random Images


Still More Writing Advice



Milk spills Tears splatter, provoked by dead silence I grasp your carousel’s brass ring: fire works.

Traveling Companions

We two voyagers stamp tickets to frolic in the sun
Light dribbles in beads into our outstretched eyes taking flight
Hands clasped as laughing children, we pass into the garden
Its orchestra of scents: roses, violets, lavender
Nectar explodes on tongues beckoning. Carnaval floats glow.
Ears bent to harp strings plucked, we stagger, levitate, and dance
Until arriving cliffside to melt into the Abyss
and spring anew. To clutch atop a bed of pungent grass;
Petals unfolding before a hot-blooded obelisk;
A piston’s thrust, the gripping and grinding; toes quivering.
That urgency? That last hesitating moan we beseech?
We plunge together so entwined, engulfed by a torrent,
succumbing, letting it shape our clay, becoming again
that sparkle and promise of our next lifetime together.

My most liked tweet mentions Donald Trump's wiener. How should I feel about that?



Here, have a shot of Jackson Pollack.


Revolution #9 Lyrics

Bottle of Claret for you if I had realized…
Well, do it next time.
I forgot about it, George, I'm sorry.
Will you forgive me?
Number 9, number 9, number 9, number 9, number 9, number 9, number 9, number 9, number 9, number 9, number 9, number 9, number 9, number 9, number
Then there's this Welsh Rarebit wearing some brown underpants
About the shortage of grain in Hertfordshire
Everyone of them knew that as time went by
They'd get a little bit older and a litter slower but
It's all the same thing, in this case manufactured by someone who's always
Umpteen your father's giving it diddly-i-dee
District was leaving, intended to pay for
Number 9, number 9
Who's to know?
Who was to know?
Number 9, number 9, number 9, number 9, number 9, number 9, number 9, number 9, number 9, number 9, number 9, number 9
I sustained nothing worse than
Also for example
Whatever you're doing
A business deal falls through
I informed him on the third night
When fortune gives


Wazimbo's "Nwahulwana"
Found this on a German site: Warum wanderst du von Bar zu Bar? (“Why do you wander from bar to bar?”)
So, the first time I heard this I thought I recognized some Portuguese, but it’s illusory; the language is actually Ronga. I suppose it was just the echoes of Brazilian music. I found, though, a translation into Portuguese, which I will translate to English, but here’s the thing: this transcription of the words isn’t correct. Also, I’m almost certain I hear “vôce” which means “you” in the lyrics. First, “nwahulwana” itself is a soft expression for prostitute, hence “night bird” is the poetic meaning. I thought it was a love song. My wife thought it was a prayer (probably because of the way Wazimbo lifts his eyes to the sky when he sings “Maria”). So, it is something like this, but there are mistakes, because the lines don’t match up. Also, I wonder if he is singing “Nwahulwana” when the song starts - . It’s hard to know since I don’t speak Ronga. 


The Herald Previews "Trump: The Presidency"


Are We in the Age of Double-Think?


Get Ready for the Total Solar Eclipse on August 21, 2017.