Seems like a lifetime
since I've felt sunshine
that north wind keeps blowing
I'm frozen. So frozen.
Wind blown snow angels
hard crusty drifting
across a dark carcass
the lonely forgotten
smashed jack-o-lantern
and Christmas tree ashes
spread solemnly calmly
in deafening stillness
surrounded by breath clouds
So frozen. I'm frozen.
The crack of the ice
a warm breeze at night
icicles trickle and drip
is Mother tricking me?
Roll over and dream of
the sweet smell of spring
out there somewhere
a flickering candle
Lord knows I can't handle
much more of this winter.
In memory of Philip Seymour Hoffman. This is a cutout poem for the Imaginary Garden taken from the February 11, 2014 New Yorker article the Master. All the words in this poem are from this article and in the order they appeared.
In my humble opinion Hugh Dillion and the Headstones saved Rock and Roll from Kurt Cobain and the rest of the grunge hippies wannabes in the Nineties. I know that's almost blasphemy this close to Seattle but ...
Now twenty years later they come out with this and it's just and good as their first.
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"When something stands for nothing a detached memory
this ones about everything you don't think about until you sleep"
I never know why sparks fly no place to run no place to hide
I try to slow it down but I'm just too wired
"this one's for nothing and this one's for fun"
You talk too much so I double clutch
stutter step and a sucker punch
I'm a gateway drug but there's not enough
so I sobered up 'cause that's twice as tough.
"and this one's for rock and roll and comic books and bubble gum"
I think I'm too old to be this mad
my mid-life angst feel's a little sad
'Cause when I'm in my creative space
you can't kick the smile off my face
"So this one's for the silence and the questions that it brings
and the smell of time and irreverence and the possibilities."
I never know why sparks fly no place to run no place to hide
I try to slow to down but it's just the way I'm wired
*******
Kerry has us writing about our "creative space" today in the Garden. For me it comes from inside and it comes in waves. I had fun with this one.
In Loving Memory of Jack Hambleton and Robert Edge.
*******
Margaret has a cool prompt today for the Imaginary Garden. Along with the "Orb Art" of Deborah Glessner, she explains it as follows:
"For me, the word orb conjures up ghosts in the form of balls of light - life forms that are believed by some to be the human soul or life force that once inhabited a physical body here on earth. It is said they have stayed behind because they feel bound to their previous life or previous location for whatever reason."
I believe my Grandfathers stayed behind to look out for me - I have had many unexplainable experiences that have proven this to me. They were both powerful men who weren't afraid to tell me they loved me. When they both passed it had a profound effect on me and I felt like I became stronger.
Bits and pieces of a Border Town Judge He blew up real good - better than a lawyer ever could. All that's left is a gold tooth and a bullet proof vest made in Russia with love
back in the days when Cold War was enough.
I won a free trip to Juárez, - think I'll el pass-o on that.
Things can be boring around here we just make babies, drink whiskey and ski. But skiing is safe - except for Sonny Bono. I'll take death by cirrhosis, slow and as close as I can to my memory foam bed.
I won a free trip to Juárez, -
think I'll el pass-o on that.
********
Toads are writing about a place we've never been and would not want to go.
