Michael's Fáilte

Welcome to these writing warmups, blatherings, rantings, meditations, perorations, salutations, latest and those on time, those narrative, declarative, interrogative, gollywogative and other outdated, belated, simulated musings, perusings, shavings and other close calls, with no disrespect intended, that's why no real names included whenever impossible to avoid the guilt that came in the crib for uttering something that would hurt or injure those in authority, being of everlasting servitude to all and sundry, having chosen the road not taken and the frost on the pumpkin long before the kettle turned black or the cat found its own tail fascinating,
Your humble servant, etc.

The island writes in fire and steam each morning on the pages of the sea

The island writes in fire and steam each morning on the pages of the sea
Lava Meets Ocean. Lynx, Starboard Side. Day 2.Early Morning, July 8 2006, Looking for Flashes off Chain of Craters, Big Island

Tuesday, June 28, 2011

Salmon

One follows salmon with single malt scotch and sets aside the small square glass
on a square of Brazilian quartzite all sounding very exotic for effect but it's the world
you know so don't go raising your eyebrows just accept the miracle our large

planetary group represents and get over it, under it, through it, I've said it
all before the prepositional prospecting we need to claim but the point is
smoky boxed up salmon good till 2016 can you believe that but cut into

and opened up for a decent soiree I'm shrugging my shoulders here why
not? one asks and also...with that lovely though slightly shy-making odor
on the fingertips well it's not everyone who understands, not everyone

who accepts you for who you are just fresh as you might be from a soiree
quartered beets dark red so deep you look outside and check to see yes
it's night and cucumbers cool as courtyards in northern Africa their seeds

naked and inviting okay this could go on right through to lychee sorbet
pink with sliced peaches and more zinfandel can you believe it yes
it takes a kind of faith to carry on in such a world where was I

the peat of single malt Scotch from Islay the small island windswept
and stories of Moroccan rendezvous it's crazy how these intersect
but they do it's true and you I'm sorry I just don't know how

we got here 

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