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salutations, latest and those on time, those narrative, declarative, interrogative, gollywogative and other outdated, belated, simulated musings, perusings, shavings and other close calls, with no disrespect intended, that's why no real names included whenever impossible to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

Saturday, August 10, 2013

CHRISTINA'S WORLD


CHRISTINA'S WORLD
after Wyeth’s painting

I know that girl the girl in the field
the field still long the grasses tall
she’s there on the ground do we say that
the ground bound by tall grasses not mown

the girl twisting at the waist a sense of
distance the house on the hill a place
of remorse the crows gathering
at a window of the outbuilding

washing on the line the far side
the wind slight the dog barking
up at the sky she looks back
it’s hard to care about why

the girl the ground the house
why she’s there as if outside the circle
why do I care I suppose it’s a place
I know very well and recognition

draws me to her
to the girl
and her bleak
American landscape

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