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salutations, latest and those on time, those narrative, declarative, interrogative, gollywogative and other outdated, belated, simulated musings, perusings, shavings and other close calls, with no disrespect intended, that's why no real names included whenever impossible to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

Friday, June 17, 2011

'Twas a water buffalo

'Twas a water buffalo no horse
that Lao Tzu rode across the plains
Bubalus bubalis 'twas of course
ten thousand silken threads for reins

Tell me said the wanderer to the moon
how it came to pass that Lao Tzu's mother
carried him sixty two years in her womb
till she could go not one step further

How she leaned against a plum tree
and out came the philosopher fully made
whisky-face, long ears and wild goatee
swinging his necklace of single twist jade

The moon leaned down to reply
but out of the east a dragon cloud came
and devoured the earth, the moon, the sky
swallowed the wanderer and his name

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