those wonderful few years in Bucharest

Fireside Chats & Mountainside Musings

Recalling the day the door to the cage
was flung wide and a sky offered escape,
rising to physical feet optional

as well as meeting people on the streets.
Should a sour mood happen to invade,
a tale could still be built from a sparrow

whose history need not read factual.
Or maybe Whimsy was feeling spunky
enough to suggest we blast into space,

look for a friendly Neptunian moon;
keeping eyes peeled for their red light district,
the more immorality the better.

Jet back to the pad, help lines tell of it,
with assistance from a bottle of wine.
Surprise surprise, prudish pricks don’t approve.

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death of the net

Fireside Chats & Mountainside Musings

walks with or without purpose or order
would be included in the running dream
which overarching theme is looseness
or laxity, and we who place high value
on looseness or laxity (in all things, be they

temporal, spiritual, ethereal)
have of late been given little in the way
of alternatives to frontal and sometimes
brutal representations of organs,
organisms, organizations,

driven with maniacal-level
missionary zeal,
in curtailing the ability for
whosoever feels the urge, to live
loosely or laxly, and are in fact

in favor of stamping out all
such appearances, intending to do
so as soon as they are certain their hands
have completely possessed all armories.
Walking may actually get marked as the greater
iniquity, since a person may undertake

a stroll with no fixed destination in mind
– and it is not too far-fetched to presume
that the mind in question may already exist
in an infectious…

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yesterday’s reminder lesson

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arrangement really makes a difference
and liberty knows a flow like a stream
which course objects haven’t weight to impede,
meaning little is easier to say
than this about arrangement importance.

Randomly choosing an unfinished tale,
when along sauntered a sentence that read
well enough: she violated the rule about blouse
buttons. Informative enough, yes. Then came this:
She violated the blouse button rule.

self pep talk

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You have your ballpoint ink
and you have your fountain pen ink.
You have good old graphite sticks
and don’t forget the good old charcoal sticks.
How about them verbs
and the nouns that do things with those verbs.
How about all kinds of lines,
short and sharp, long and shapely lines.

So your snags are synthetic now.
Sure eating is a joy
but think about pixels
just waiting for a stylus
to play with them – stroke them.
Think about shifting gears, mister,
mosey to the depot,
hop on the late train.
Ride, ride, ride, pick a dot,
exit, enter, meander absent of cares.

hard knocks to new teeth, day 6, continued

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the peanut butter cups dealt a surprise
in the form of dark chocolate armor.
Over the years easy penetration
was taken for granted. Oh but the taste
really does appear to resuscitate
a spirit time could not intimidate.
This is how fusion works with lines alive:
dilemma forbids the ostrich option;
begin to see the gift is a toolkit,
and for the chocolate, try a hammer.

from hard knocks to new teeth, day 6

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It seems some points of pain have subsided
unless it is that imagination
has come out to play with white cheddar puffs
and memory insists on influence
getting inspiration off its caboose:
was a fantasy ever so fancy
as to predict a bag of cheese flavored snacks
occupying half of an afternoon?
Another as this will not come again;
revel in every salted stumble.

baah!

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Apparently some souls come to this earth
with a deep love of goats and farming life
in general. Somehow I have become
a part of this mix and I want out now.
The issue is not rural or urban
but about vibes that kill tranquility.
Coffee on a rickety country porch
or a sidewalk umbrella espresso,
either way or in between works for me
as long as there’s no fucking goats to feed.

side note

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Wouldn’t it be funny if those crows this morning
really were discussing where they should grab a bite?
A pair did hang around in the summer; ate corn;
bet they’re part of a clan, and maybe made a deal
with feathered forms elsewhere; or maybe they’ve a route
fashioned for daily need; days, eves, framing airways.