From the grass bed, cotton fluffs of white swirling past shadowy ebbs and crests of green hills. Dots of trees fringe the edges of reverie in the wind. I’m wide awake asleep daydream embracing splashes of red soft velvety blossom full under the warm sun. Free spirit flowing with the world shifting [...]
Posts Tagged ‘past’
Clouds and Poppies
Posted in Art Scene, Literature, Memoirs, Nature, Poetry, Religion, Science, Society, Travel, tagged asleep, awake, axis, bed, blossom, closer, clouds, cotton, crest, daydream, dot, ebb, edge, embrace, flow, fluff, free, fringe, full, grass, green, heaven, hills, made, past, poem, poetry, poppy, red, reverie, self, shadow, shift, soft, spirit, splash, sun, swirl, trees, under, velvet, white, wide, wind, world on February 8, 2012 | 12 Comments »
Montage From A Stow-away
Posted in Art Scene, Books, Current Affairs, Film, Literature, Memoirs, Music, Nature, Philosophy, Poetry, Politics, Relationships, Religion, Society, Travel, tagged across, autumn, away, blow, blur, breeze, bury, cadence, can, card, cell, change, crest, cursives, dead, deck, diner, distance, drown, ear, ebb, fade, fall, feel, free, gentle, heart, hum, jack, king, know, land, leaves, letter, lost, mad, man, mask, melancholy, migration, montage, moon, new, old, paint, past, pocketbook, poem, poet, poetry, prairie, print, remembrance, rhythm, rough, salmon, sand, scribbles, search, season, sense, september, settle, shamble, shuffle, soul, sound, spade, speak, stars, stow-away, sun, swim, table, think, time, tin, trade, trap, tune, tyke, undisturbed, uneasy, unfamiliar, vagabond, wind, world on July 4, 2011 | 18 Comments »
I can feel it now across this table in the old diner of this no man’s land, The sound of shuffling deck of cards. Or is it the leaves in autumn falling in September- that he will remember? Do you know what it feels like to be buried in cans and tins of paint, [...]
Decoupage
Posted in Art Scene, Current Affairs, Film, Haiku, Literature, Memoirs, Poetry, Relationships, Society, tagged air, alone, ancient, back street, bread, bronze, cafe, ceiling, certain, chair, city, cold, conversation, corner, crowd, crumb, cup, cushion, decoupage, distant, dust, empty, exchange, fade, failure, forget, free, glass, glimpse, grasp, hours, jaded, leather, life, memory, midnight, morning, nakedness, new, old, One, outside, paint, past, peel, period, pigeon, poem, poetry, porcelain, quarter, quiet, share, shed, sheen, silver, single, skin, something, soul, stale, story, strange, stretch, sunrise, table, tatter, teacup, teaspoon, things, tinge, two, vintage, voice, wallpaper, walls, warmth, windows, worn-out, young on December 18, 2010 | 12 Comments »
In the old quarter of the city, in the nakedness of the cold walls of this back street. I sit alone, outside. Here. In the almost empty corner of the café. Looking beyond many mornings distant, from the crowd. There is something. In the stale morning air that reminds me of one strange midnight. [...]
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His Past Smells
Posted in Books, Current Affairs, Literature, Memoirs, Philosophy, Poetry, Politics, Relationships, Social Commentary, Society, tagged above, across, air, all, angel, armpit, ashame, bad, belong, broken, buses, buy, care, cars, childhood, churn, clothesline, complain, cough, cover, cranny, crowd, cruel, detergent, ditch, dreams, dry, dump, earth, else, emanate, empty, every bone, exhale, fart, feeling, fish, flag, flap, fly, fortune, garbage, gift, grease, grime, he, heaven, hill, hope, hopping, hours, images, innocence, life, line, linger, little, locomotion, long, memory, money, mound, mud, neighborhood, nook, nor, occasional, odor, One, past, pavement, perfume, pierce, poem, poetry, poison, poverty, promise, putrid, rag, rice, rise, sanitize, sauce, scavenged, scent, sewer, skin, slow, smear, smell, smog, sniff, someone, sour, squeeze, stale, steam, sting, stink, stomach, street, suds, sun inhale, survival, swarm, tatter, throb, today, trash, turn, urchin, walk, wet, whiff, yesterday on March 11, 2012 | 4 Comments »
His past smells of a ditch drying up its putrid stink as stale as the street air. It belongs to a smoggy neighborhood. In the memory of tattered rags flapping like flags on the clothesline. As if dreams can be scavenged out of the hilly mounds of garbage, dumping its gifts of someone else’s trash [...]
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