I am amazed at the generous nature of most tribe members that I've encountered thus far. They're willing to share their experiences in life and their knowledge freely with me. If my two cents can feed this family of friends half as well in return, yet another cool thing will have occurred in my life.
I try hard and am truly interested, though not the brightest bulb under the shade.
To bring a dead music to life is the among the most erotic feelings I know of.
Loving the kitchen and feeding my loved ones go hand in hand with my pleasure.
Being honest to myself at all times has always been, and will remain the best policy.
You are not connected to Stevewant to grow your network?
October 10, 2005My favorite kitchen guru and true blue tribe friend! I look forward to every thoughtful letter I get in my mailbox. He brightens my days and makes me smile without fail. I'm so lucky to have him!
June 12, 2005WE HAAAAAVE A WINNER! hehe*
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Unable to lie in matters of the heart
and tired of looking down at my shoes,
I noticed the Rhino staring down too,
so hung a wreath of daisies on its horn.
An elderly manTue, July 3, 2012 - 6:35 AM permalink - 0 comments
with his ancient dog
pass down a well-worn path.
Heads hang down heavy,
filled with the lost sticks and balls
their weary feet and paws
moving ever onward;
His hands stopped working one day, their joints becoming hardened with age. After asking his Doctor, the man went home, put his lutes in their cases, started drinking, and thought, “Why not?”Mon, January 9, 2012 - 6:12 PM permalink - 3 comments
Somehow, those around him mattered, yet didn't. The flavorless food and graying skies implored him to snap. Asked him to snap. Break. Much like the now sagging brittle strings in their cases, entombed and broken.
Darkening skies, darkening brow, shit on the sidewalk, on his shoes, and life; w... read more
I felt bad for the child.Wed, December 14, 2011 - 3:57 PM permalink - 0 comments
Next door, under construction, there was a very loud bang! ...and from outside I heard muted screams. She cowered down, hiding from shots and not wanting this, wept. Yelling as loud as I could from the window, "Hey, it's the construction, not guns!" I thought she heard me, but again went and opened the door and yelled, loud as I could, "Not guns! Construction! Construction! You OK?" Looking around and still in tears, she cried walking off.
Shit man, shit, th... read more
It 's about eating of the dead, at heart. I mean really, every one it seems is writing about zombies and vampires, and the hairy wolf men (I like 'em bears or skin nekkids), but heck, why not someone tired of the assembly, all ready to blow up his ass for a cause?
Opener_ The note reads: "You should be careful of touching me when I'm dead, for I am the contagion." Eyes change in escaping, the sky darkens up quick, hard, purple, and you are a victim of her life untold, hesitating to bit... read more
It used to be the words were easier, something like leaves crackling down a dirty pavements, stinking of want and asking, “How did we happen?” _ they used to be gentile too, then, sipping up their nontoxic furiosity, as a sort of swung thing roped.
Somehow we are putty in a writers hands, strangled, lost, and yet selves of an easier subject than those as we are, and are found of other words forgotten.
And what is next?Fri, September 30, 2011 - 4:20 PM permalink - 1 comment
The thing became bad very quick, that thing we need not talk about. It’s was at the door just then, knocking, asking us to live a way. It said, “Come, come and walk with me, show off the awww shit that is life and tell me, tell me dear, are you happy?" To which came an honest reply, and it is in that honesty, that we found ourselves in exit, as a cold extended.
Tonight I asked of God, “What is all this?” And his man told me, “Trappings.”Thu, August 18, 2011 - 7:11 PM permalink - 2 comments
It is not with idyll thoughts that I turn to these words of supplication; but what are these trappings of life, and what is it to us the living? An old goat eats the grass, till one day he nibbles on his rope, and finding itself astray, soon meets a wolf. He says nervously_
“Do you know?”
“What do you mean, what? You were talking about the goats and how one had eaten through its rope... read more
Broken string, awaiting Elephantile replacement. Cut the nails down to size, as sounds from the 6c Renaissance lute are current the rage, as the cycles of nails and instrument goes. I love them all and much of the music, and suppose that's the problem. How to do each justice to it all? I refuse to surface dust this stuff because it is a passion. I feel as fickle as it gets, and always love the one I'm with. Somehow against it all though, is my constant improvement, with personal goals consis... read moreThu, August 11, 2011 - 12:45 PM permalink - 2 comments
There she sits without eyes to see, possibly without thoughts or any understandings that we would know; she sits waiting, looking past with empty orbs and then finds you with her nose. We are heat to her heart. Who you are is of no consequence. Sleeping, eating, drinking and passing remains, she otherwise sits hunched all but motionless in a shaded corner of her room. It does not matter who brings her food, changes water, or cleans the filtration system.
She of course can hear what ... read more
They are made of man, un-molded and left to dry inconsistently in the wind and sun. They sit blank, till along she comes and brushes. Maybe a smile or frown, should the mood swing. Today though, she has chosen a rather bristly brush, not quite cleaned from her last dirty encounter. Looking at it, the stiff substitute is plunged in to hot suds, and rinsed, and plunged, and rinsed_ this, done so many times that bristles fail, and eventually sit holding paint whiskers askew when looking at my... read moreWed, May 11, 2011 - 4:05 AM permalink - 3 comments
The cawing up of crows makes me look at my gun and smile. We did good.
I somehow feel man's relationship with nature has been wrought more out of lust than love. We eat, consume, and arbitrate the relationships amongst ourselves in a relatively benign manner, even owing to war, but when it comes to nature and its consumption, we are insatiable and no more than cod swimming with mouths open.Thu, April 28, 2011 - 12:38 AM permalink - 3 comments
In all fairness to the codfish, to which we've eaten out of house and home, our mouths could have remained shut, but did not.
* as the struggle for life continues
“Yes, technically I was going twice the intergalactic allowed, damn man, but with wife in the back seat pushing_ so what does the squid looking cop do, but start writing the ticket.? Please understand that in most lights, you are flashed on, up, and out of a courtroom in less than a tickle_butt in this backwoods neck of galaxy, shit, you’d better hide your ass. Don’t smoke or swig on their Sundays...Sat, April 23, 2011 - 10:08 AM permalink - 3 comments
In telling the tale he looks up, to the admiring smile of his beloved. “Jack, a... read more
He knew when I joined the Navy what my preoccupations were. He knew it damned well, and yet signed the document. That, which given in place, was bound, and I until manhood could be done with as wished, “in guardianship.” ‘A foot in the coffin then,’ I thought, turning on to 2nd. St., then with dropping jaw, stood in front ships taller than imagined and a life equally filled with water and sail.Sat, April 23, 2011 - 8:31 AM permalink - 2 comments
Gay in my Crackerjacks:
A man I picked up pushes against both of us and undulating, awake... read more
He looks on her over the fence, beating furiously at his midsection.Thu, April 7, 2011 - 7:21 AM permalink - 2 comments
"I am so cold in this cell, yet tomorrow, ‘bout the rise of the sun I am told, I shall be colder yet. Earth 'waits me, mine own the fodder."
Danny Boy, merely underlay, sulks less than a foot aside, prostrate in the cell next_ walled, he too is condemned thus, yet knows little of this dumbfounded madness, confused perhaps, so it goes on and on, in this his conversation. Gay against greedy bricks he spit them out.
... read more
It was the scent on his handsTue, March 22, 2011 - 3:31 PM permalink - 0 comments
that was Julie's last thought,
though she hadn't the time to explain it
as they tightened about the nose and mouth
ceasing her life.
What clouded thoughts at the bottom of the grave were her’s, as she asked me yet again, “ C’mon, ya gotta level, is he seeing her? He is, like always, I mean, like before? What’s she want? She want another bottle or just him, not me? “ Sitting in the corner, Johnathan shot me a look, that look. His look.Wed, February 9, 2011 - 7:03 PM permalink - 0 comments
What was she thinking he’d do with the ax anyway, man handle it? I remember a simpler time, in a much less toxic environment, with the two of them in bed with me, and Candy asking, “... read more
Beginning then with clouds
_ this hunger in my soul
it is restless
in the bowels
Are you to blame God?
Are you to blame that else for this madness
when I, who is asked to bare this cross,
find myself alone mid-air?
Go then, and ask of your Son forgiveness,
for no less a lamb
Here, dancing upon the restless,
relentless, clouds of forgiveness,
ask hard of your lamb
when finding yourself
under that blade of supervision.
Ask... read more
Once there was a caterpillar, until it was no longer. - S
Into warm spring day
her hands sought out hunting that_
yet I am wet clay.
Cold still museum,
his gal, with hard marbled tits,
reclines needing me.
that need placed June’s classified:
“Urgent man wanted.”
In greening fields see_Thu, September 16, 2010 - 4:20 PM permalink - 2 comments
arising worms wriggled 'bout
forgetful dreamed things.
Is robin’s egg blueTue, July 6, 2010 - 9:16 AM permalink - 2 comments
sits now on her carpet green
asking in that look.
For that moment I
held on to a fair-the-well,
watching you lay brick.
Sometimes in falling
against his pebbled road sits
a toad needing kissed.
Eating when she wantsSat, February 27, 2010 - 6:19 PM permalink - 0 comments
occasionally dying back,
bloated her belly, full_
The shellfish sickens her;
the room swims toward an explosive pink.
After rising with the sun,
and feigning sobriety,
she vomits her guts
She is the Venus, collapsed,
Hot, awakened abruptly,
she hears him humming in the kitchen
singing something about someone named E-lye-zah.
On board was ham and eggs,
but oh, those eggs he made
were looking back just then,... read more
Another baby blew bubbles at me today. This one had bright hazel eyes, curly brown hair, and through those cherubic lips drooled magical moments. Red, green, blue, and flax reflected from a tree behind me within that gaze, holding a promise of colors more radiant still. I laughed and she smiled. Her stocking is hung to the chimney with care, with a peppermint cane and brown fuzzy bear. Now, imagine her surprise when I flew back up that chimney, then, imagine her surprise when she wakes.
Leaves of amber, orange, gold, brown/ blackenedFri, December 11, 2009 - 11:26 PM permalink - 1 comment
fawn, doe, yellowed, antiqued avocado, char_
Bargaining beneath dulling aged moss,
you seem like narrative rustling 'round
when I care to listen in.
I purchased the old locket while shopping one day. On the inside it reads in scrawled calligraphy, “To Alice”, and also there is a bit of hair under a glass: brown, thick, bright.
Now it is true, that I do not know whom Alice was, is, or with what relationship she had to this hair, but it is very nice hair.
A pleasant waitress named Alice waited on me a few weeks ago and maybe that’s it? Somehow I keep thinking of the hair and that inscription, and I know there is more to the story. A... read more
We were birds just North-East on the fence-line,
against the Dakota blue
there with the off-coal
and white clouds.
Ask me and I'd say,
they were a bit too blue up there like that
reminding me of you_
fresh from a shower
with field of flowers laughing.
We were high there,
about the gold heads
of tall rustling grass dancing
Giggling at me you smiled
questioning "Tell me, do I fly too?"
_Well of course silly,
you know you do...
Today, 4:32 AMMon, October 19, 2009 - 8:36 AM permalink - 1 comment
Insomnia starts the day. Glancing at the clock for the umpteenth time, and three, well maybe five cups of old coffee later, my eyelids open to find ants invading the bathroom. Poison for them, another cup for me, and listening to my honey in bed snoring away, I begin to think about his dreams and wonder if I'm even in them?
It would be so easy now, putting on shoes to take the trash out, to envision being tossed aside in that snooze filled slumber-land. A blond, tanned Ad... read more