absolutely unique… like everybody

In the spirit of The Sacred Clone.

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chicken went down

our wonderful household is wonderful in our wonderful house: two cats, a rabbit still living and thriving indoors only. A legion of expired pets are buried or somehow inaccessibly disposed within property lines of our sweet residence. And so, as my blessed wife left for a week’s fun in Florida, her final pleas to me before closing the back door upon leaving were these: take out the garbage because it stinks; please make sure the cats have an extra bowl of water and a heaping bowl of food; please change the paper in the rabbit cage and see that Cici (the rabbit) has plenty of water and food too.

But an hour before she left, my beloved apologized to me and begged that I cut the chicken, I didn’t necessary have to de-bone the thing, but I at least remove the remaining breast meat into separate bags and place them in the freezer. Would I please do it now because I’ll forget about it if I don’t.

I didn’t. And I did. Continue reading

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The Gyre

Notions are hardly worth their whimsy, rising as oblong pockets from

Feathered beds below the glassy sheet of calm.  Nature turned her head

Away while coughing, politely sparing us the lurches and trauma here

As distant to one place as to another. No state or nation or kingdom

Within the sound of our still ocean cradle, resting our feet instead

Along the dark-shored island, floating but not drifting, our deepest fear

On its way to greet us. But that’s only half of it. The others continue

Spreading the dullest sunshine of hope from beach to dotted beach,

Solvents disbursing the beads of lives lived before fines imposed

Language flowering from tongues tasting another tart idea in you,

Sharp and bitter in tone and meaning, piano strings tuned each

Slightly off, every interval’s high note a stretched sonnet composed

Of soft, warm words tempered in kindly tarnished steel, a century’s

Graceful patina attesting to a natural bound, wholly original piece,

One of a series presumed apocryphal until cataclysms, seismic

Even–neverminding human designs–blend homes of earth and tree,

Evicting beasts of brain to free airy grey tissue, soft as cotton fleece,

Firmly but gently woven thoughts afire, inhibiting reuptake, bioelectric

Chemicals lustful and fair, this record an artist balanced on his knee

We suppose, for we must invent with conjecture and informed vision,

Lacking no creative abandon mingled with academic rigor, the story

Goes, a knock on the door and a startled intruder, the volume slides

Like an unseen token into tar, a viscous aperture closing the incision,

Sealed as is, as was, as will be until the tide brings in another worry.

But we digress. So early on and here we understand eternity abides

As merely a moment, and every moment lasts forever, as God stands

Outside the house, allows our rain and time-soaked lives a dry mist

Of calm. Let’s call this an answer to prayer. So many prayers have

We prayed, for so many of ourselves more than others, our demands

Drifting in and out of spiraled arms embraces. Swelling, the benign cyst

The naked eye cannot discern just yet like the Great Wall is a grave

For all slaves who were not masons. Stone on stone, bodies thrown

And stacked, sandbags of commerce piled high on the road toward

Every port, a tip of wing fanning flames. Flotsam and jetsam glisten.

Minor events join hands and dance accumulation of sinew and bone.

 

seamus never disappoints

always in-person when the opportunity allows, you should, you really should try to meet with him whatever the occasion. You just won’t be disappointed. And so, here we are, there he is. Who, exactly who is holding court at this gathering? The jury is out on that for the moment. The conversation moved beyond the point of that mattering probably before it began, sort of a spiritual creation of ideas articulated in the singularly peculiar mix of minds and ways of thinking, the cool balance of yin and yang as settled as cornflakes during shipping, that renders all judgement neutral. No ideas spoken here are new.

James M Hendrix

James M Hendrix

None of them. We’ve merely brought them to our forum, the pub that is not really a pub, to speak and be spoken about, agreed with, acknowledged, ignored at worst. Things get said worthy of any scholarly record, any humorists notebook, clergy’s sermon sketches, pornographer’s napkin. But Seamus, forget what he said about writing up a nice account for the company newsletter. It’ll never happen. Continue reading

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