having wandered off from the festivities without so much as a by-your-leave, for hers was an elegant melancholy that found such revelry abrasive, she made her way to the sun room revealing night sky.
she had returned to the solstice tree with its decorations as sparse as the hillside in the coming season, and, while the party raged on high spirits, celebrated with a solitary jubilation.
he was like
Cary Grant
in a tuxedo that fit just right
even while dashing
toward some Monte Carlo casino
toward the object of his desire within
except this isn’t Monte Carlo
and he wasn’t wearing a tux
but other than that
it was
just like that
there you are
scampering about the open field
with thunderstorm overhead
with bottle in hand
trying to catch lightning
again
that first one caught way
way back when
now tucked away in the closet
next to a box of books
this time
the thunderstorm only threatens
no bolts to gather
just promises
nothing pierces the air
this time
testing testing
rich and poor
young and old
the pious and the wicked
living on a new stage
testing one…
waiting to see
two…
who drew the short straw
three
Well, I completed the 50,000 word goal for National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo), so I will be around again. It was an interesting and worthwhile excursion, regardless of whether I someday actually wrestle a finished work from those 50,000. One of the tidbits I encountered during the process was the following quote from the jazz pianist Bill Evans regarding the difficulties faced in his development as an artist and the rewards of those difficulties that I kept in mind as I slogged through the writing exercise:
* * *
when memes were posters
you bought at the record store
using a diverse array of thumb tacks
to pin it to your wall
Maybe I should stop there, but I can’t. we have lost one of the great poet musicians of any time: Leonard Cohen. As the beginning of the video shows, he knew at least he was loved. And he would say as we all should be loved. And “Anthem” so pertinent now and unfortunately in the future. But isn’t what the great poets show us: what might be…what is possible…what we fear…what we need to conjure up from within ourselves to face the present now…
there is a crack in everything
that’s how the light gets in
they’ve summoned up a thundercloud
and they’re going to hear from me
Photo Prompt by Dmitri Popov
Informed of morale plummeting, with its corresponding decrease in productivity and increase in theft of office supplies, the Director of the Agency convened an ad hoc task force to address how best to combat this trend.
During that first meeting, after the lethargic participants spent an hour spinning their wheels, the new hire spoke up for the first time.
We could paint this place..you know, cheerful puts-a-smile-on-your-face colors.
Specks and Fragments 