The High Mountains
Screaming down the highway in the soaking sun, Clouds streaking, winds snapping, Summer on the run. Trail Ridge Road, Colorado
Posts
On Paying Attention
Don't forget to appreciate the black-eyed susans Crossroads outside Crestone Colorado
Yakity Yak, Yak, Yak
Yes, ladies and gentlemen, this is a Colorado Yak Yak Ranch Between Crestsone and Moffat
One expects the paint to peel, after half a century
Iron rust-worn gates holding in the childhoods Time herding memories into corners Two ruts for a road, packed down and lined with grass Apples, dusty red, almost ripe Air standing up so fresh, bitter pine and cottonwoods Dinner time, shadowless and sweaty with hay dust Light fading away with yesterday.
Chicago, Chicago, It's a Hellova Town!!
Ah What a wonderful feeling to be back online!! Remember: Do not be Missiled! Neither shall ye be Misled! An iPad IS NOT A COMPUTER! Blue Chicago Chicago Local Tour Guide Lara C. Hazy Blue Chicago with Visitor at the Lake Michegan Shore
La Bocca della Verità sotto Brooklyn
As we New Yorkers know too well, many people attempt to leap over turnstyles and crash through alarmed gates (SCREEEECH) to obtain free access to the New York Subway system. Well, Brooklyn has had enough! A posse of Anonymous Toll Collectors has recovered the dreaded Brooklyn Mouth of Truth and installed it near the access to the Brooklyn Museum and Botanic Garden Station. As many of you know, a Mouth of Truth confiscates the hand, foot, or at least the sleeve and cuff of any person attempting to perpetrate a fraud while drawing near to the Dreaded Slot. How, you may ask, does one seduce a subway fare thief to stick anything into such a thing as the Mouth? Well! This Mouth has been equipped with an original Star Trek patented Tractor Beam! Be very careful. La Bocca della Verità (Brooklyn)
Of Furnished Rooms & Clouded Doorways
Harsh lights gritty sidewalks, squeaking grating doorways, Metal glass chrome doors, decals pealing and maybe a bell, Hard to remember where I left those cut-up dreams. I let one go the other day, just a crumple and a toss and a "So what now?" There’s another one around the corner, right? Dim-lit yellow hallways, bathroom down the hall, Shredded carpet, bruised and dirty, Don’t even think about the paint. A single cot, thin mattress, square table made with wood, That single bulb hanging on to a cord. There in the corner, I saw the crumpled might-have-been. Missed the rusted basket; poor shot. I walked out with it, of course I should have left it there along with the rest of the picture. Instead I spread it out on an ironing board, Ink worn through and faded, edges broken and frayed, But maybe it could have been salvaged. I think I see a painted house, light green, and a stoop. There’s a bay window, I remember now, pink reflected in the window pane,
A Twilight Time
The night dies and a day is born, when do we turn on the timing? Is it the lights and the dramas, or the harvests and the noon time bells? Go ahead and take the stars, for I have no more use for them. Take the sun away and let me cope as best I can, pale blacks and white greys will cover the differentiations. Madison Avenue and 106th (dawn/dusk) Your Mission, should you choose to accept it, is to pause midway between, say, this and that; or between, say, here and hereafter, where and why, or whichever and whichnever. Take a pause only long enough to see the commonality of things, and then--back to splitting seconds!
