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salutations, latest and those on time, those narrative, declarative, interrogative, gollywogative and other outdated, belated, simulated musings, perusings, shavings and other close calls, with no disrespect intended, that's why no real names included whenever impossible to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

Wednesday, January 4, 2012

Unkempt Dreams

What other kinds are there
there in the dark cinema
of the restless sleeper
stitching time together
to cover naked truth

once creatures of the night
prone to falling out of tree
now the big house in town
sets all the people in lines
facing the flickering lights

dreams mastered and orderly
with names like Rosalee
Goes Shopping or I Am
or Ace Ventura or Thrive
Give me the cliff hangers
of my own youth

the crumpled heaps of imagery
the clouds of memory between
parked cars out on the ocean
or in shadows of hedgerows
at the old farm places names

the man with a drip
on the end of his nose
the rooster who played
the violin the piano
I fell into till I learned
three chords and vibrated
all the next day

untidy dreams wild
and scattered like birdseed

dreams that burble up
in conversation the heartburn
season without rain
calling out with a start
in the dark give me back
night even now at noon

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