A Violent Oddity and Jazz

and almost, we were heroes

Mon, 14 Aug 2006 05:04:00 GMT

This is a story about fire escapes and pool.

Walking accross the street. the cars never look to see if a pedestrian is there when making a right on red. thats why they don't do it in Quebec. the first in a short lineup of vehicles if a motercycle, driven by a beautiful face. eyes and nose, all that I ccan see under his helmet. I nod good evening, and he says "hello, have you ever ridden on a motercycle?" why no, I replied, and he handed me a helmet. I climbed on the back and the light changed. great speed and great wind. I screamed "go straight and I'll show you something beautiful and strange." he drove and I guided him to puzzle twenty two, a derelict olf shack with plyboard on the windows and doors. we broke one down and met as god intended for man and wife on the gritty floor of what was once a childrens room.

If it had happened that way, I would have done it.

irksome and drink

Fri, 04 Aug 2006 17:36:16 GMT

I done wrong, and it's allright. The forgotten essay hangs right over my head, and a teacup sized moth got into my house. Indeed these fallacies, inebriated moues, tell us little of ourselves, but nonetheless, serve as adhesives to the seedier side of things.

Great books

Wed, 02 Aug 2006 00:12:13 GMT

To market to market to buy a fat book.
This little piggy reads dante
This little piggy likes chaucer
This little piggy read deccameron
and this little piggy chose the bible
to read before sleeping, and dream of all night.

A reading list, what a reading list. It would make the gods cry, these minds of men. these great books, do we read them? Or do the little grey brains of long dead thinkers still peer through the ether into our little grey brains?

To market to market, to trade soliloquies.

We can breathe again

Tue, 18 Jul 2006 02:19:34 GMT

It's ten pm, and the city is habitable again. The sun goes down and the air is strong enough to lift the smell of patio-flowerbox marigolds into the streets. We're so bullied by the sun. We sleep all day, but at night there is feasting and dancing and wine. In the deep south, in the late 1800's friends would charter riverboats and float nights away under the trees and the stars. We content ourselves with stifling apartments and fire escapes, smoking in the heavy air, dependant on oscillating fans and traffic lights.

We will run the fireworks again.