Confession Tuesday

Dear Reader;

I confess that the DNC tonight was powerful stuff. Each of the speakers made this election relevent and personal.

I confess that I'm tired and going to bed.

Journal Bits from the three day weekend...

• Oh my God it's September! So hard to believe that this year has actually come to this. This month will be the stretch for the Giants run to post season.
• Lazy Saturday under the potion of stationary rain pushed here by Issac with a September chill piggybacking the storm. 
• The shadow cast dirt upon the stairs-/each time I've walked them today I've been barefoot and lax in my resolve.
• The neighbor's flag waves-/it's the most friendly gesture I've seen.
• No one much minds us-/I like it that way. The quiet/turned inside out.

The Mag 133: The Women of Summer Night

Summer Night - 1913 by Albert Bloch

They gather in secret

in the garden of delight

they leave behind 

much shame

and every other form

of constraint-  real or imagined

in the twilight of tenderness

they speak of no evil

they harbor no disdain

they are hear for each other

they are hear for themselves

they are here and this is why they come

The Mag 133

Michael A. Wells

I confess...

For the past hour I've been making a list of phrases and questions that comprise subject matter for free writes that will hopefully lead into some new poems.  When you are brainstorming in a relaxed manner that allows your mind the freedom to explore such ideas without pressure it's amazing what you can come up with.

This has been a lazy approach. The cap on my fountain pen comes off, I write a line or two, re-post the cap, few sips of a drink and something hits me again and I jot another one down. There was no certain number I was looking for or specific amount of time. I fixed something to eat during the process but at some point I thought, this has been a good start - and after some rest tonight, the second phase of some free writes will start tomorrow. 


On another note, I love it when I go back to my old journals and read through them only to find a poem draft that surprisingly I says to myself, did I write this?

Thinking about Client Eastwood the other night...

Immersed in the unexpected satirical dialogue with an empty chair, I thought why do we have elections anyway? The line between serious and funny morphed into the sad and pathetic. Poor Client, a man of major significance, with Dr. Emmett Brown hair managed in two hands full of minutes reduce himself to cognitive deficiency before millions of people, mock a sitting president at the same time he demonstrated significant disregard for facts.

The extent to which any of this was funny lies not in the lines themselves, but the fact the the convention handlers allowed this miscarriage of both fact and humor to eat up one sixth of the national TV coverage
prime hour on the mos significant night of the convention. Who was responsible and what might they have been smoking?


 

Once - Twice in August 2012

Once in a Blue Moon came twice this month!  This picture is for those like myself  under the influence  rainy skies brought to us by Isaac.

Moons have often been the subject of songs, poetry and props for movies. Sometimes I think God hung the moon in the sky for writers. A guiding light at night to write.

Nonsense~

I like nonsense, it wakes up the brain cells. Fantasy is a necessary ingredient in living, it's a way of looking at life through the wrong end of a telescope. Which is what I do, and that enables you to laugh at life's realities. - Dr. Seuss