tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-148344452024-03-18T19:37:55.336-07:00anachronizmsover two decades in the making.
a timeshifting autobiographical poetry collage w/photography.
a diaristic, nearly "daily writing" (ad)venture.
new pieces are posted most days..
**new and in progress** --
recordings of each poem are being added.
these are read by the author & posted to each poem's page.
--Del Ray Cross (contact delraycross at gmail)Del Ray Crosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17314422327103219760noreply@blogger.comBlogger4238125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834445.post-14696712529114728272024-03-18T11:18:00.000-07:002024-03-18T11:18:25.373-07:00mmmmcclxvi<span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small;"><i><b>Yuma Yowl</b><br /><br /> Childhood living <br /> Is easy to do <br /> The things you wanted <br /> I bought them for you </i><br /> —from “Wild Horses,” by The Rolling Stones <br /><br />“hey, pioneer!” <br />was the hiss & <br />i was pissed. <br />my gun’s a <br />ghost, the <br />sheriff’s <br />toast <br />& wild <br />horses <br />couldn’t <br />drag me away <br />from this hellhole. <br />this badge is just a <br />couple of melted shotgun <br />slugs and we go way back. <br />i traded a revolver for this here <br />holster and a couple of these <br />dinged up posters. i know <br />you’re all shot up, but <br />you look good, man. <br />you’d be roiled with <br />worms and a fathom <br />down into the depths <br />of the quickest <br />swamp and <br />you’d bring <br />back a <br />demon’s <br />heartbeat. <br />and you had <br />to go and lock your <br />hawk’s aim targeting <br />the stuttered hiccoughing <br />rhythm of mine.</span><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUWGZA6MO31Q6yK8kc4M-b3p0LYPWpxoWCzv0yJFw3zU-XW5DjQvD0Up11mmj4OHsV1QYK-crjrbIT-1WvJBtCXivTM4mV0OJlc4udxABs5Q1Ex9ThBk-R_3t9D4l1SazIz1pdyDkQUFSAb2u4Jw7BPVbE-vPxME6FLnQxgIL7zO1stER68AJf/s2048/rep%20ent.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><img alt="rep ent" border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1530" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUWGZA6MO31Q6yK8kc4M-b3p0LYPWpxoWCzv0yJFw3zU-XW5DjQvD0Up11mmj4OHsV1QYK-crjrbIT-1WvJBtCXivTM4mV0OJlc4udxABs5Q1Ex9ThBk-R_3t9D4l1SazIz1pdyDkQUFSAb2u4Jw7BPVbE-vPxME6FLnQxgIL7zO1stER68AJf/w478-h640/rep%20ent.jpg" width="478" /></a></div></div>Del Ray Crosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17314422327103219760noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834445.post-71598526523600285642024-03-17T03:06:00.000-07:002024-03-17T22:58:19.353-07:00mmmmcclxv<span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small;"><b><i>Scoop Swoop <br /></i></b><br />or how an open book <br />gets so paradoxically <br />overlooked. well. you <br />might kindly excuse me <br /><br />for having yet to step up <br />to today, but i rarely find <br />an ounce of intrigue in <br />loudmouths. so if this <br /><br />conversation begins <br />with <i>how many hits <br />do you get?</i> then i am <br />already too old school <br /><br />to participate. what<br />is intrigue after <br />all, but something <br />mysterious, as of yet <br /><br />unknown that one <br />might possibly, and <br />with a curious thirst, <br />uncover. that’s <br /><br />where i stand on <br />this subject. sure,<br />this might be a dated <br />stance, too out of <br /><br />fashion for most of <br />us. but yet I have to <br />ask: <i>who on earth do <br />you think i am, anyway?<br /></i><br /></span><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeNf8lFr8xeN79ZjoKIHvxI7EQbk_vlmK-dWC-rFf5dSzG5ZAn52dYvZjoCU-dG8do9Yk9Mg-RHNQA17DwtlHK6sQTpYgBTDOUn-YWSMDV97TEpL10a0qryQ0rkLFDlqQ7mzh3NnR94umWgPGfwnhHXAJWc4cbP6WU-VrUYL9ZOHQteSIOWyAb/s2708/stance.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="outdated stance" border="0" data-original-height="1506" data-original-width="2708" height="356" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeNf8lFr8xeN79ZjoKIHvxI7EQbk_vlmK-dWC-rFf5dSzG5ZAn52dYvZjoCU-dG8do9Yk9Mg-RHNQA17DwtlHK6sQTpYgBTDOUn-YWSMDV97TEpL10a0qryQ0rkLFDlqQ7mzh3NnR94umWgPGfwnhHXAJWc4cbP6WU-VrUYL9ZOHQteSIOWyAb/w640-h356/stance.JPG" width="640" /></a></div></div>Del Ray Crosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17314422327103219760noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834445.post-79498106683393944392024-03-17T01:16:00.000-07:002024-03-18T10:10:02.709-07:00mmmmcclxiv<span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small;"><b><i>Blueberry Boombox </i></b><br /><br />skimming the screen <br />i scroll slowly over</span><div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small;">an image of the<br />world’s largest <br />blueberry. it’s a <br />world record. and i <br />see it there, plopped <br />upon i can’t remember, <br />something that would <br />show a viewer that, yes, <br />that’s one behemoth <br />of a blueberry; a <br />blueberry behemoth. <br />but who gets the <br />world record, the <br />blueberry or the <br />fruit forager who <br />found it? and is <br />there incentive <br />beyond just being <br />listed in a guinness <br />record list? i look <br />again, quickly, <br />before continuing <br />my scroll toward <br />some juicy and <br />as-yet-unknown <br />treasure, that <br />will what? <br />suspend my <br />scrolling for <br />longer than a <br />merely negligible <br />duration of my day, <br />wondering more <br />than anything <br />where the <i>actual <br />biggest blueberry </i><br />on the planet might<br />currently be hiding <br />out, and what <br />it might take <br />for me to <br />divert my <br />current life <br />path in order <br />to find that <br />monster, <br />so that my <br />name might <br />be, for some <br />shorter or longer <br />period of time, <br />publicly linked <br />to that blue </span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small;">freak of a fruit.</span></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLX7As0yYAu2xgpwG96Tz1G0j_2cIn_AfPNve2ydYeb4D47D47MWCBpua5_TJ0r2LPb-ISSAoS-XJi8rDVDDCZzlDJ0GII80nNEHMSjY37GtZ8f4f_eA8Oxk0NOuCnla8AnUK472hgnZ-bqzUA64nPBavOoO6i5xSKMS19r1M7LBZaW1Mt2Zr0/s2048/big%20blueberry.jpeg" style="clear: left; display: inline; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><img alt="burning blown-up berry" border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLX7As0yYAu2xgpwG96Tz1G0j_2cIn_AfPNve2ydYeb4D47D47MWCBpua5_TJ0r2LPb-ISSAoS-XJi8rDVDDCZzlDJ0GII80nNEHMSjY37GtZ8f4f_eA8Oxk0NOuCnla8AnUK472hgnZ-bqzUA64nPBavOoO6i5xSKMS19r1M7LBZaW1Mt2Zr0/w480-h640/big%20blueberry.jpeg" width="480" /></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="412" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/0VW9BZoa1YU" width="496" youtube-src-id="0VW9BZoa1YU"></iframe></div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLX7As0yYAu2xgpwG96Tz1G0j_2cIn_AfPNve2ydYeb4D47D47MWCBpua5_TJ0r2LPb-ISSAoS-XJi8rDVDDCZzlDJ0GII80nNEHMSjY37GtZ8f4f_eA8Oxk0NOuCnla8AnUK472hgnZ-bqzUA64nPBavOoO6i5xSKMS19r1M7LBZaW1Mt2Zr0/s2048/big%20blueberry.jpeg" style="clear: left; display: inline; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><br /></a></div>Del Ray Crosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17314422327103219760noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834445.post-53524468380242099852024-03-15T03:24:00.000-07:002024-03-15T03:24:36.431-07:00mmmmcclxiii<span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small;"><b><i>Xeroxed X’s </i></b><br /><br />i tried to take <br />a picture of my <br />heart. we have <br />the technology. <br />and i should <br />know.<br /><br /></span><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhil-bp_YcUWHTj7mgAtextkFkyPxYfVfF9VgcZT_tyZ4tWdGxX88ejViE6vbuQ_ng9S__0w1grFEKwzvgHyfjbTjb_rZkfUy5d3EpVuveJj5g13EN-UIPmao9ZtBqCu356_canOzirctZSsEjJuLCz9WBQh2vtJ_O8mD6UeTELZwCthXS4b9J/s1350/Xeroxed%20X.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Xeroxed X" border="0" data-original-height="1350" data-original-width="1080" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhil-bp_YcUWHTj7mgAtextkFkyPxYfVfF9VgcZT_tyZ4tWdGxX88ejViE6vbuQ_ng9S__0w1grFEKwzvgHyfjbTjb_rZkfUy5d3EpVuveJj5g13EN-UIPmao9ZtBqCu356_canOzirctZSsEjJuLCz9WBQh2vtJ_O8mD6UeTELZwCthXS4b9J/w512-h640/Xeroxed%20X.jpg" width="512" /></a></div></div>Del Ray Crosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17314422327103219760noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834445.post-67537113791756215902024-03-14T09:45:00.000-07:002024-03-17T07:09:51.101-07:00mmmmcclxii<span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small;"><b><i>Flea Frow <br /></i></b><br />it wasn’t something <br />he wanted to get <br />away with. the <br />concertgoers <br />en masse were <br />an enormous <br />living breathing <br />etc. two bald guys <br />on their way to</span><div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small;">the restroom <br />bonked into each <br />other, knew one <br />another instantly. <br />after the bonfire <br />all hell broke <br />loose. we all <br />put up our dukes, <br />readying like bank <br />robbers for that <br />big investment. <br />people teamed up <br />based on t-shirt <br />color, hues <br />skewed by <br />the starless <br />night <br />and the <br />fire’s remains.<br />which were but </span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small;">the dull embers left <br />once the angst-ridden <br />dragon had what was <br />left of its blazing wings</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small;">(having just been clipped)</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small;">pinned deeply into the surface </span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small;">of the overburnt earth.<br /><br /></span><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdrS8Pdyzi5LTyPxd0j9_8FPu_KZ6ZxBdQSkFC22YIsBh6mT8VIsyoN8Xwg9p6BW2sZqiRscRN9ARayYUdpQ-Kbf1EJfYuZT5NC2VpPt1sDVEWrellEi4euLIQRF6i-H4GRytkiAl1GyE32GczB9wyXJdVAfuCMnfDEiK3qyiijDaBjWrdT-x9/s720/flea%20frow.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Flea Frow" border="0" data-original-height="475" data-original-width="720" height="422" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdrS8Pdyzi5LTyPxd0j9_8FPu_KZ6ZxBdQSkFC22YIsBh6mT8VIsyoN8Xwg9p6BW2sZqiRscRN9ARayYUdpQ-Kbf1EJfYuZT5NC2VpPt1sDVEWrellEi4euLIQRF6i-H4GRytkiAl1GyE32GczB9wyXJdVAfuCMnfDEiK3qyiijDaBjWrdT-x9/w640-h422/flea%20frow.jpg" width="640" /></a></div></div></div>Del Ray Crosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17314422327103219760noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834445.post-39284750176145434332024-03-13T21:19:00.000-07:002024-03-13T21:19:11.458-07:00mmmmcclxi<span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small;"><b><i>World What </i></b><br /><br />not sure about you, <br />but i happen to live <br />here. are your hobbies <br />boring? if i’ve said it <br />once, i’ve said it a <br />million times, you <br />navigate and i’ll <br />paddle. some <br />times the best <br />way to clean <br />things up is <br />to first get <br />as dirty as <br />you can. <br />but my <br />goal isn’t <br />to be the last <br />person standing. <br />who’d come to the <br />after-party? how <br />dull would <i>that </i><br />parade be? <br />so. anyway. <br />what do <br /><i>you </i>do <br />for fun?<br /><br /></span><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUdGeq8q5wO0_6QdACQmrkLGqLByHGXTV9QEmtnm1PLJo1_xrqzWZ03zk7Zxnw4QhLVySrC2FrC8wlHYhGhclOBupLX_vWp7ImVP9Oa68Uei9dKLRv8JX9sEoamUTq-X5B2B6MhRDdWuipfazlgUJG4zna4Vzg5K8a5nQVUpt7vdqrHdJR8wLh/s4000/home.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="home" border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUdGeq8q5wO0_6QdACQmrkLGqLByHGXTV9QEmtnm1PLJo1_xrqzWZ03zk7Zxnw4QhLVySrC2FrC8wlHYhGhclOBupLX_vWp7ImVP9Oa68Uei9dKLRv8JX9sEoamUTq-X5B2B6MhRDdWuipfazlgUJG4zna4Vzg5K8a5nQVUpt7vdqrHdJR8wLh/w480-h640/home.jpg" width="480" /></a></div></div>Del Ray Crosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17314422327103219760noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834445.post-16490819276939700822024-03-12T07:02:00.000-07:002024-03-18T19:37:23.183-07:00mmmmcclx<div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small;"><b><i>Kenneth’s Kin </i></b><br /><br />kenneth <br />kimbrough’s <br />closest kin, <br />that is, his <br />numerous <br />siblings, <br />included <br />the following <br />lady kimbroughs: <br /><br /><i>persephone </i><br />(goes by <i>pursie</i>) <br /><br /><i>cassandra</i>, who <br />makes a rootin- <br />tootin casserole <br /><br /><i>medea</i>, the doctor, <br />whose surgeries <br />always seem<br />to involve the <br /><i>medulla oblongata </i><br /><br /><i>lizzie</i> (birth name <br /><i>lysistrata</i> cuz <br />dad had had a <br />humdinger of a <br />penchant for <br />aristophanes)<br /><br /><i>renata</i>, who’d <br />grown from the <br />spindliest of the <br />litter to the hottest <br />gal in all of Nebraska <br /><br /><i>melea</i>, who seems<br />like such a shy gal <br />only it is really just </span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small;">an intense and general<br />disinterest that has<br />her often come across <br />in such a way. <br /><br /><i>corrina</i> and <i>cornea </i><br />are the twins. and<br />while their pops knew <br />ancient literature <br />inside and out, he <br />was anatomically<br />clueless, and so <br />one of the twins <br />who also happened <br />to have a pair of eyes <br />that looked consistently <br />in opposite directions <br />was bullied from <br />adolescence to <br />graduation (yet</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small;">thanks to intense<br />twinly competition,<br />cornea fortuitously <br />graduated class <br />valedictorian, much <br />to corrina’s chagrin).<br /><br /></span><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9KuJ88IJGhXYjkUyvoZqWt-XxeSF81BgKKzPNBPKS4rmB42hNE1S8j0TRZ-sd7kLZOkoH3IQS7yDv0GYHlv20-39W2lyLNpLIuXRsOVvzu_zpUUwdtTLFDcdhxe0ksfID2hGqP91x6hyphenhyphenlmi-gwTx86OmF-h32SZVp0y_1i0shh69kPcAGV9S7/s4000/kimbrough%20gal.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="ken's kin" border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9KuJ88IJGhXYjkUyvoZqWt-XxeSF81BgKKzPNBPKS4rmB42hNE1S8j0TRZ-sd7kLZOkoH3IQS7yDv0GYHlv20-39W2lyLNpLIuXRsOVvzu_zpUUwdtTLFDcdhxe0ksfID2hGqP91x6hyphenhyphenlmi-gwTx86OmF-h32SZVp0y_1i0shh69kPcAGV9S7/w480-h640/kimbrough%20gal.jpg" width="480" /></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="416" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/1mKZq4iOjJY" width="501" youtube-src-id="1mKZq4iOjJY"></iframe></div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9KuJ88IJGhXYjkUyvoZqWt-XxeSF81BgKKzPNBPKS4rmB42hNE1S8j0TRZ-sd7kLZOkoH3IQS7yDv0GYHlv20-39W2lyLNpLIuXRsOVvzu_zpUUwdtTLFDcdhxe0ksfID2hGqP91x6hyphenhyphenlmi-gwTx86OmF-h32SZVp0y_1i0shh69kPcAGV9S7/s4000/kimbrough%20gal.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div></div></div>Del Ray Crosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17314422327103219760noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834445.post-58150434637073688762024-03-12T06:37:00.000-07:002024-03-18T12:21:48.015-07:00mmmmcclix<span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small;"><b><i>Jigsaw Jelly </i></b><br /><br />the only hint the<br />quake had hit <br />was how the telly <br />wriggled just a wee<br />from back to forth<br />for a few secs with <br />msnbc on the screen, <br />an interview of quite <br />serious import. it <br />hadn’t seemed like <br />much but the place <br />they called home was <br />replete with pipes <br />corroded with such <br />rust that <i>kerblooey!</i><br />must have went one <br />and then the whole <br />place got very smelly <br />in the least appetizing <br />way you might imagine <br />when the plot goes pop <br />in such a telling way. <br />ruth stood up and set <br />out to deduce the source <br />of the smelly, thinking <br />it had to be thattaway. <br />eve sat still on the cold <br />hard couch and switched <br />the channel on the telly <br />to anderson cooper. enid <br />seemed not to have noticed <br />a thing as she continued her <br />loud and off-key rendition of <br /><i>lily of the valley</i> in the back <br />room with the walls of green <br />(the shade of kelly) adorned <br />in such a way that one might <br />surely call shelly (for ruth, it <br />turns out, had an unruly in <br />fatuation with mollusks and <br />would collect them madly <br />ever since arriving from <br />new delhi; eve would take <br />the shelly heaps and pin <br />each one by one upon <br />the kelly green walls <br />in such a juvenile-y <br />way that one might <br />think she’d spent her <br />early years in cellie). <br />eve had switched <br />the telly to an episode <br />of <i>happy days</i> which <br />almost exclusively <br />featured fonz, the <br />fonzerelli. despite <br />the fact that the <br />original smelly had <br />gotten significantly <br />smellier, ruth was <br />back, but in the <br />kitchen making a<br />sandwich of peanut <br />butter and grape jelly.<br />in no time flat enid and<br />ruth joined eve upon <br />the cold and hard sofa<br />to watch the rest of <br />the sitcom featuring<br />arthur herbert fonzarelli.<br /><br /></span><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijnPWNtLelAoe4rrHXpK-MJOMYoWxC7LOvqIcnURNwBL0-mW9Vfjs9fIbjLHxIEDrqaf6-vubUFYphPQn1As7u0RrDDNwzTc4U5KSWjysXghIn4-S-w0_94qpBovZdmi2g3ZgjzHxGsGe222w6h-HYOARv7668Uyp-wkItFsuPY_40Cx1moh3F/s720/mildred.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="mildred" border="0" data-original-height="538" data-original-width="720" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijnPWNtLelAoe4rrHXpK-MJOMYoWxC7LOvqIcnURNwBL0-mW9Vfjs9fIbjLHxIEDrqaf6-vubUFYphPQn1As7u0RrDDNwzTc4U5KSWjysXghIn4-S-w0_94qpBovZdmi2g3ZgjzHxGsGe222w6h-HYOARv7668Uyp-wkItFsuPY_40Cx1moh3F/w640-h478/mildred.jpg" width="640" /></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="542" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/u6pEOFJ7lYI" width="652" youtube-src-id="u6pEOFJ7lYI"></iframe></div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijnPWNtLelAoe4rrHXpK-MJOMYoWxC7LOvqIcnURNwBL0-mW9Vfjs9fIbjLHxIEDrqaf6-vubUFYphPQn1As7u0RrDDNwzTc4U5KSWjysXghIn4-S-w0_94qpBovZdmi2g3ZgjzHxGsGe222w6h-HYOARv7668Uyp-wkItFsuPY_40Cx1moh3F/s720/mildred.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div></div>Del Ray Crosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17314422327103219760noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834445.post-1899180185701022102024-03-12T06:03:00.000-07:002024-03-17T22:52:18.151-07:00mmmmcclviii<div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small;"><b><i>Railroad (Re)Route </i></b><br /><br />the view was verdant, <br />the template of a <br />picturesque spring <br /><br />at this end of the <br />desert; arboreal, <br />triumphant giant <br /><br />redwoods would <br />occasionally align <br />with the slow-going <br /><br />train. the trip thus <br />far had been sheer <br />perfection. it was <br /><br />only the first day <br />of a nine-day trip. <br />arlo conked out <br /><br />quite quickly in <br />his sleeper car <br />after dusk, just <br /><br />before the loco <br />motive coasted <br />its way into the <br /><br />arid and butted <br />portion of the <br />legendary trek, <br /><br />chug-chugging <br />a white noise <br />that along with <br /><br />the natural <br />gentle swoop <br />and sway of the<br /><br />car of the train<br />nudged him into<br />such a deep sleep<br /><br />in which, remark <br />ably, there would<br />emit from his<br /><br />sleeping body<br />no discernible<br />esophageal <br /><br />abrasions for<br />the entire night. <br />it was a rarity,<br /><br />this rockabye baby <br />for arlo in that snug <br />sleeper. until around <br /><br />six in the morning <br />local when he arose, <br />still with a rare ease <br /><br />of breath. and then <br />came the twist of the <br />neck so as to catch a <br /><br />glimpse of what he<br />assumed would be <br />more gorgeous. only. <br /><br />the desolation. had <br />such a powerfully <br />draining impact on <br /><br />his being that within <br />a minute he was <br />silently weeping. <br /><br />he could not take <br />his eyes off the <br />sun-swept land <br /><br />scape, and in <br />another minute <br />or so he was <br /><br />sobbing violently. <br />rough asynchronous <br />gasps such that the <br /><br />man had never <br />known. and the <br />feeling. the empty. <br /><br />the entirety of his <br />focus remained <br />locked on the <br /><br />vista as it slowly <br />moved from left <br />to right, and he <br /><br />began to feel the <br />heat that he knew <br />would be nothing <br /><br />compared with the<br />scorching that this </span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small;">hellish landscape must <br /><br />surely be experiencing. <br />the depravity would <br />crescendo in such a <br /><br />manner until mid- <br />afternoon. the heat <br />rose until he was <br /><br />sweating so profusely. <br />and not one cart of <br />service would arrive <br /><br />for the duration of <br />the devastating and <br />life-draining day in <br /><br />which he could not <br />budge from the same <br />spot he had awoken, <br /><br />staring out as far as <br />his eyes could make <br />out anything, which <br /><br />seemed by the end <br />of the afternoon to <br />be lakes of molten <br /><br />rock, mesas glowing <br />as if by nuclear rad <br />iation. at some point <br /><br />was reached a limit. <br />by simple virtue of <br />what his eyes had <br /><br />been taking in for <br />those several hours, <br />the feeling of loneliness <br /><br />and impending death <br />or worse got to him.<br />and the heat. so that<br /><br />by dusk of this horrendous <br />leg of the legendary train <br />trek through this most <br /><br />austere and revered <br />country, the land he <br />loved in the country <br /><br />in which he had always <br />lived, knocked him un <br />conscious. he was spent. <br /><br />this had not been what <br />he had expected. he <br />awoke the next day <br /><br />to warily glare out of </span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small;">that same window a river </span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small;">the train ran alongside <br /><br />all morning in which <br />fish were flopping, <br />nature was replete, <br /><br />beavers were damming, <br />frogs were leaping from<br />lily pad to overhung branch </span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small;">and back </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">again, </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">the occa</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">sional snake </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">slithered for a </span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">while </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">with its nose at </span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">the </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">surface. breakfast</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small;">arrived and was <br />delicious. arlo, <br /><br />however, was a <br />million light years <br />from the joy he <br /><br />had experienced <br />on the first day of <br />the trip, when he <br /><br />was but a rookie. <br />how would he <br />deal with this, <br /><br />he kept wondering <br />all day, and the next <br />and the next. it was <br /><br />all that mattered <br />to him. his life had <br />been irrevocably <br /><br />twisted into the gloom<br />of a new purpose, an <br />overwhelming desire, <br /><br />to do what? there <br />could surely be no… <br />remedy...for that into <br /><br />which his very soul <br />had been immersed <br />for that one eternal day.<br /><br /></span><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcdwhbEK9TtvlfMKXugKJ5pfr3nu5-n_xJlMGJ9uKjA9tmrWqDPoQR0T_ouWpPXt-Q98tSClFjkMhXgnBQ4V0QNjmN-kr5NoZB1cn_0VFgz_P4IFu_esO8g1nrGDSKYcnySOpGMXeYXm2d9CDu4SaggptqA6nptjwo3c2Xojr19cDMENQSfz_6/s3444/operation%20desert%20shield.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Operation Desert Shield" border="0" data-original-height="2553" data-original-width="3444" height="474" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcdwhbEK9TtvlfMKXugKJ5pfr3nu5-n_xJlMGJ9uKjA9tmrWqDPoQR0T_ouWpPXt-Q98tSClFjkMhXgnBQ4V0QNjmN-kr5NoZB1cn_0VFgz_P4IFu_esO8g1nrGDSKYcnySOpGMXeYXm2d9CDu4SaggptqA6nptjwo3c2Xojr19cDMENQSfz_6/w640-h474/operation%20desert%20shield.JPG" width="640" /></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="541" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/ELwK_jjlLVQ" width="651" youtube-src-id="ELwK_jjlLVQ"></iframe></div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcdwhbEK9TtvlfMKXugKJ5pfr3nu5-n_xJlMGJ9uKjA9tmrWqDPoQR0T_ouWpPXt-Q98tSClFjkMhXgnBQ4V0QNjmN-kr5NoZB1cn_0VFgz_P4IFu_esO8g1nrGDSKYcnySOpGMXeYXm2d9CDu4SaggptqA6nptjwo3c2Xojr19cDMENQSfz_6/s3444/operation%20desert%20shield.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div></div></div>Del Ray Crosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17314422327103219760noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834445.post-85120916246717270602024-03-12T00:59:00.000-07:002024-03-12T00:59:37.179-07:00mmmmcclvii<span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small;"><b><i>Queen Quickly </i></b><br /><br />girlfriend <br /><br />how<br /><br /></span><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBXbvEPySLEmZ5Us4wtu26SVZhKH58McYjxqhxqhb5DHTvy7Cna8oD2cHTVV5hd6cSyrablwQ5K-GGH3FI-7qMs2As9wb3_sS97b8Bbggr1AV9xy65mhKjObXSVEDbeRbJeFL8w-AV-E9pI4YUj3SNkSzNV8uE0JxQh-yf35NwXMr0uE82lRWC/s4160/queen%20quickly.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3120" data-original-width="4160" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBXbvEPySLEmZ5Us4wtu26SVZhKH58McYjxqhxqhb5DHTvy7Cna8oD2cHTVV5hd6cSyrablwQ5K-GGH3FI-7qMs2As9wb3_sS97b8Bbggr1AV9xy65mhKjObXSVEDbeRbJeFL8w-AV-E9pI4YUj3SNkSzNV8uE0JxQh-yf35NwXMr0uE82lRWC/w640-h480/queen%20quickly.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div>Del Ray Crosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17314422327103219760noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834445.post-7846989145105733132024-03-08T22:49:00.000-08:002024-03-09T05:33:26.215-08:00mmmmcclvi<span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small;"><b><i>Inkblot Interior <br /></i></b><br />is a bit similar to an <br />interior monologue <br />that is more of a <br />psychological test <br />in which the interior <br />of your skull is wall <br />papered with Ror <br />schach inkblots that<br />are decorative and <br />otherwise perfectly <br />impractical. except <br />if you could see how <br />lovely it is in here. <br />as i stare at these <br />beautiful abstract <br />designs draped <br />along the walls <br />of my interior, <br />i find that the <br />splotches, rather <br />than pull the un <br />developed ramb <br />ling ditherings<br />about in my <br />head not to <br />ward a notion<br />of what might <br />really be going <br />on within the <br />depths of my <br />mind, but instead <br />keep things open, <br />distracted from the <br />less abstract goings- <br />on that can diminish <br />or relinquish my focus <br />from where it needs to <br />be in order to get me <br />from where i am in <br />this droll exterior <br />world in which i float <br />about to wherever<br />it is that i am per<br />haps attempting<br />or wanting or <br />needing to be. <br />but then the prob<br />lem becomes rem<br />embering where that <br />is or might be, or <br />even hold a hint <br />about a general <br />direction. currently <br />i’m looking up, <br />at a supposed<br />ceiling, for any bit <br />of light that might <br />emit as if toward<br />me from those<br />heights. the <br />feeling this gives <br />is that of a man <br />trapped in a se <br />wer desperately <br />looking for a man <br />hole cover, anything <br />such from which i <br />might escape these <br />hellish depths. what <br />lovely wallpaper! it <br />keeps me on my toes <br />and has me going <br />places no one, <br />not even i, might <br />possibly know.<br /><br /></span><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm_boE6MqXwgtc-xsiihL68AZMLpJ37jHr7uJ8aBsLBF-f27JJtvDdOxEVi8kL5FHPjTkEUK0XdwsyQKT9OhGdLsOE37VCrYIcaVhI7Fx0Oqq8ZpJRNSAO7csDP8ckj0BSQeQPQOeVbVyroyULfbannEYMUUaYhsTKPfyHaGN4KGBtp-Fzc1zA/s2814/wallpaper%20of%20my%20mind.jpg" style="clear: left; display: inline; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img alt="the decorous walls in my head" border="0" data-original-height="2814" data-original-width="2448" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm_boE6MqXwgtc-xsiihL68AZMLpJ37jHr7uJ8aBsLBF-f27JJtvDdOxEVi8kL5FHPjTkEUK0XdwsyQKT9OhGdLsOE37VCrYIcaVhI7Fx0Oqq8ZpJRNSAO7csDP8ckj0BSQeQPQOeVbVyroyULfbannEYMUUaYhsTKPfyHaGN4KGBtp-Fzc1zA/w556-h640/wallpaper%20of%20my%20mind.jpg" width="556" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="474" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/UX4lC2ODdH0" width="570" youtube-src-id="UX4lC2ODdH0"></iframe></div><br /><div><br /></div>Del Ray Crosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17314422327103219760noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834445.post-81235822660529992832024-03-08T14:32:00.000-08:002024-03-17T08:21:18.716-07:00mmmmcclv<span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small;"><b><i>Vim, Vigor <br /></i></b><br />these are strange times. <br />anything you say or do <br />might turn you into an <br />enemy, put you in dan <br />ger. the state of our <br />union ain’t that great, <br />as far as i can see. <br />but when you’re <br />way over and <br />into the pasture <br />on the idealist side <br />of the fence, it’s a <br />bit of a relief to see <br />that a man nearly <br />twice your age can <br />hold his own in what <br />one might call the <br />traditional court <br />of law. i’ll take <br />even an ounce <br />of that feisty <br />for myself, <br />if you don’t <br />mind. if you <br />find those <br />words to be <br />fighting words, <br />then perhaps you’d <br />best <i>reign </i>yourself <br />and your herd of <br />bullying elephants <br />in just a smidge, <br />else this pacifist <br />might be ready<br />for a knock-down <br />drag-out good old <br />fashioned fight. <br />i hope not. <br />but i still <br />feel it <br />good to <br />say. <br />just <br />in case.<br /><br /></span><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSX3LOVzzlOxXsybGoOxWPz3buj-nr0diVMY_3cPuh7HfeFTIiBZN-McY7CX4HqfxcYdQNegT6ucxLEDpvBAy9fXfdd4smRJbilzbyD1UZo-kZniIoByUqChwsvvDQ00CVDnrt9ooGk-TW_bj478kTW3qVySmH1n2YnIh7R1RkkuEVGXMYxSX6/s2052/capitol.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="dad, sibs, and the u.s. capitol" border="0" data-original-height="2052" data-original-width="1932" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSX3LOVzzlOxXsybGoOxWPz3buj-nr0diVMY_3cPuh7HfeFTIiBZN-McY7CX4HqfxcYdQNegT6ucxLEDpvBAy9fXfdd4smRJbilzbyD1UZo-kZniIoByUqChwsvvDQ00CVDnrt9ooGk-TW_bj478kTW3qVySmH1n2YnIh7R1RkkuEVGXMYxSX6/w602-h640/capitol.jpg" width="602" /></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="512" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/XRIazUMDxi4" width="616" youtube-src-id="XRIazUMDxi4"></iframe></div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSX3LOVzzlOxXsybGoOxWPz3buj-nr0diVMY_3cPuh7HfeFTIiBZN-McY7CX4HqfxcYdQNegT6ucxLEDpvBAy9fXfdd4smRJbilzbyD1UZo-kZniIoByUqChwsvvDQ00CVDnrt9ooGk-TW_bj478kTW3qVySmH1n2YnIh7R1RkkuEVGXMYxSX6/s2052/capitol.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div></div>Del Ray Crosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17314422327103219760noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834445.post-15055160729922563862024-03-08T10:41:00.000-08:002024-03-17T04:28:24.336-07:00mmmmccliv<span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small;"><b><i>Ohio Out <br /></i></b><br />is a mood piece, <br />let’s say. geo <br />metrically it’s <br />a sagging ark <br />ansas. but, <br />hey, i’ve bad <br />mouthed geo <br />metry for dec <br />ades. i got a <br />post-graduate <br />degree in the <br />upper left cor <br />ner. the parch <br />ment was like <br />the frozen cov <br />er of earth the <br />frosty wind sw <br />ept over six <br />months out of <br />each year in <br />that desolation <br />—and there <br />were five. <br />don’t ask me <br />how i made it <br />out alive as i <br />barely remem <br />ber. but boy, <br />i packed that <br />car without a <br />heater full of <br />everything i <br />decided to <br />keep – a <br />bunch of <br />no good <br />stuff i’d <br />finally lose <br />the rest of <br />two coasts <br />and down <br />the road a <br />few years <br />later. my <br />face got <br />brighter, i’d <br />dare say, the <br />further away i <br />got from that <br />unbeveled and <br />bedeviled tun <br />dra. behind <br />a leathern <br />wheel i <br />skated out <br />to colder <br />climes i did. <br />with a hot <br />heart and <br />a harder <br />happiness <br />than i’d ev <br />er seen in <br />that most <br />godforsa <br />ken state.<br /><br /></span><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxDyILs8FsQJAvgkrFIk3EWt4N-yqzGd2v_AKL8UMC1pkjwi0Ui3zSwRu0yf9n5uuX59LDUdf3Zf2YtrwJGaXH9eXPAavIuRpmXcRIMjixs9NsRdwViLrYRx3WZvzm-FwF_18RaZBVnvqAre4nQfmQ5EnIb-CPzABg5MRLVbA7XEQCs-r5MVMv/s720/ohio.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="ohio" border="0" data-original-height="378" data-original-width="720" height="336" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxDyILs8FsQJAvgkrFIk3EWt4N-yqzGd2v_AKL8UMC1pkjwi0Ui3zSwRu0yf9n5uuX59LDUdf3Zf2YtrwJGaXH9eXPAavIuRpmXcRIMjixs9NsRdwViLrYRx3WZvzm-FwF_18RaZBVnvqAre4nQfmQ5EnIb-CPzABg5MRLVbA7XEQCs-r5MVMv/w640-h336/ohio.jpg" width="640" /></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="545" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/W3za_9uPrM8" width="656" youtube-src-id="W3za_9uPrM8"></iframe></div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxDyILs8FsQJAvgkrFIk3EWt4N-yqzGd2v_AKL8UMC1pkjwi0Ui3zSwRu0yf9n5uuX59LDUdf3Zf2YtrwJGaXH9eXPAavIuRpmXcRIMjixs9NsRdwViLrYRx3WZvzm-FwF_18RaZBVnvqAre4nQfmQ5EnIb-CPzABg5MRLVbA7XEQCs-r5MVMv/s720/ohio.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div></div>Del Ray Crosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17314422327103219760noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834445.post-48317915804680540012024-03-07T22:06:00.000-08:002024-03-17T04:19:05.740-07:00mmmmccliii<span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small;"><b><i>Googling Gatekeepers </i></b><br /><br />I was barely warned of these <br />etymological tectonics just <br /><br />yesterday. To our horror, <br />someone had shot a llama <br /><br />from a cannon. Up through <br />the biosphere it went, the <br /><br />warbling llama. What else <br />is there to do when sweaters <br /><br />have a distinct downturn in <br />the trend-o-sphere and <br /><br />spittoons are no longer a <br />dime a dozen? These are <br /><br />the things that will keep us <br />up at night for the rest of the <br /><br />year. Stay tuned next week <br />for a new generation gap.<br /><br /></span><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9zhmhjhNwfav-yY5pDhiJ2N8OvT_FPm9Bbt-mneXbkI5h7q8mGruhk7o3eUeL97sSqBsnVAA24ZRlnPBcHxq4fH32utrzC1oZ4HZVBoInaecjXcYeArUevuAOLOjrf_IwDddnPmLaLwNbRsBvDLww4HOzQxa1w9owHwuwDVIcWAjl8kS4N9cr/s2048/john%20wayne.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="John Wayne (spittoon)" border="0" data-original-height="2040" data-original-width="2048" height="638" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9zhmhjhNwfav-yY5pDhiJ2N8OvT_FPm9Bbt-mneXbkI5h7q8mGruhk7o3eUeL97sSqBsnVAA24ZRlnPBcHxq4fH32utrzC1oZ4HZVBoInaecjXcYeArUevuAOLOjrf_IwDddnPmLaLwNbRsBvDLww4HOzQxa1w9owHwuwDVIcWAjl8kS4N9cr/w640-h638/john%20wayne.jpg" width="640" /></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="539" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/aoX4zIAgp00" width="648" youtube-src-id="aoX4zIAgp00"></iframe></div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9zhmhjhNwfav-yY5pDhiJ2N8OvT_FPm9Bbt-mneXbkI5h7q8mGruhk7o3eUeL97sSqBsnVAA24ZRlnPBcHxq4fH32utrzC1oZ4HZVBoInaecjXcYeArUevuAOLOjrf_IwDddnPmLaLwNbRsBvDLww4HOzQxa1w9owHwuwDVIcWAjl8kS4N9cr/s2048/john%20wayne.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div></div>Del Ray Crosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17314422327103219760noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834445.post-29554349760344161502024-03-07T18:56:00.000-08:002024-03-15T07:40:12.955-07:00mmmmcclii<span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small;"><b><i>Libido Limbo </i></b><br /><br />“I don’t make these things, <br />I just sell them.” “On <br /><br />commission?!” Theodore <br />was already glum enough <br /><br />before Skyler showed. <br />“I have to go,” said Skyler, <br /><br />as if on cue. Theo wasn’t <br />much for goodbyes. The <br /><br />day dimmed as if into the <br />depths of a bleak mythical <br /><br />labyrinth. While Theo’s <br />soul dripped from his <br /><br />very being into the <br />darkest cavern of <br /><br />Purgatory, Skyler, <br />already several blocks <br /><br />from his love’s shoppe, <br />was so overwhelmed <br /><br />with desire that he <br />stopped dead in his <br /><br />tracks, unable to <br />budge for what <br /><br />might have been <br />an eternity.<br /><br /></span><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvwoWB5jXcr2wQMChRP_ioVi0ov6X9CN_EMYkMhWl9PvA4HhCJs4BrZEJB1xSp0RIoDHlF4PbePn4xaibevE-CyfEa8dWbJokLhRXZBrAEWr-0T1n8Z4QTdenfYBRKQCZYZahazuLxjOl2nBHUIKqNYyckegOIGgWrod1cOXnW2CypE7LFKfyw/s503/portland%20japanese%20garden%20entrance.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="obstructed view into Portland's tea garden" border="0" data-original-height="449" data-original-width="503" height="572" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvwoWB5jXcr2wQMChRP_ioVi0ov6X9CN_EMYkMhWl9PvA4HhCJs4BrZEJB1xSp0RIoDHlF4PbePn4xaibevE-CyfEa8dWbJokLhRXZBrAEWr-0T1n8Z4QTdenfYBRKQCZYZahazuLxjOl2nBHUIKqNYyckegOIGgWrod1cOXnW2CypE7LFKfyw/w640-h572/portland%20japanese%20garden%20entrance.jpg" width="640" /></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="544" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/MGiU_BUoDeg" width="654" youtube-src-id="MGiU_BUoDeg"></iframe></div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvwoWB5jXcr2wQMChRP_ioVi0ov6X9CN_EMYkMhWl9PvA4HhCJs4BrZEJB1xSp0RIoDHlF4PbePn4xaibevE-CyfEa8dWbJokLhRXZBrAEWr-0T1n8Z4QTdenfYBRKQCZYZahazuLxjOl2nBHUIKqNYyckegOIGgWrod1cOXnW2CypE7LFKfyw/s503/portland%20japanese%20garden%20entrance.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div></div>Del Ray Crosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17314422327103219760noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834445.post-10474026224715916262024-03-06T01:30:00.000-08:002024-03-09T04:55:47.048-08:00mmmmccli<span style="font-family: verdana;"><b><i>Define Deranged </i></b><br /><br />Rod Serling’s <i>This is the dimension of the <br />imagination</i> has in the <i>reality </i>of today<br /><br />presented a dish of tartare, which can be <br />any number of things depending on when<br /><br />and where you discover it, from where you are</span><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">looking at it, or whether or not you are going </span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana;">to have the opportunity to eat it, whether you <br />even want to, or under what circumstances <br /><br />you will or won’t be shoveling it into your <br />own digestive system, who pays for it, if <br /><br />anyone, the setting, your age, your experi<br />ence with ingesting raw meat, should you <br /><br />have had any up to this point, etc., and whe<br />ther or not you are listening to political<br /><br />commentary at the time, what we might have <br />called news at some point previous, while <br /><br />ruminating over such potentially nausea<br />ting and/or appetizing topics. Are you the <br /><br />master of your domain? Whose domain, if<br />any, do you master? Does multi-tasking <br /><br />make you feel like a special master or a<br />target inundated by rubber-dipped (prac<br /><br />tice) ordnance? Is this a story of war games <br />or good taste or both? Would <i>you </i>have any<br /><br />better topics rolling around in <i>your head </i>if for <br />four out of the five past weekends <i>you’d </i>found <br /><br /><i>your</i>self ambulanced to then lying flat on a <br />bed in a local emergency room for no less <br /><br />than twelve hours each trip? Thanks to <br />severe nausea and diarrhea, which you <br /><br />can now predict in a fairly timely fashion <br />by the preceding set of burps that taste <br /><br />precisely so, and the horrifying weakness <br />that comes in a slow enough crawl during<br /><br />the process. Yes you can predict when it will<br />hit you to within a few seconds, so you now<br /><br />manage to call the ambulance just in time <br />to throw up all over its cargo bay (and team)<br /><br />once you are situated snugly inside its well. <br />Yes, you have known what is coming and<br /><br />you are ready for it. You are at the ready <br />and have learned to have a bag packed <br /><br />for these things that come like clockwork.<br />You go ahead. I’ll be right here. If logic <br /><br />dictates, at least. Until about an hour <br />and forty five minutes from right, <i>ahem</i>, <br /><br />excuse me...from right...<i>ahem</i>...hang on<br />just a second...from <i>right</i>. <i>This</i>. <i>Moment</i>....</span><div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinxcrR6DYVuGzPcuuNz8yirPpx7wNBzLhQTBg1t-K6lgBV3-lypyhUJcm-r383bC7BFy_mBalBwU2F8gGADDCnyLtETuqspH_15X-Pyn6offcr7ChQd8ateSztxrVSgT7xzCEzLx1zTeb3HGgH_9mFUd-KSl-RZbPFhJQB_9nn2isKqbk96TmN/s1680/at%20the%20ready.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><img alt="at the ready" border="0" data-original-height="1255" data-original-width="1680" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinxcrR6DYVuGzPcuuNz8yirPpx7wNBzLhQTBg1t-K6lgBV3-lypyhUJcm-r383bC7BFy_mBalBwU2F8gGADDCnyLtETuqspH_15X-Pyn6offcr7ChQd8ateSztxrVSgT7xzCEzLx1zTeb3HGgH_9mFUd-KSl-RZbPFhJQB_9nn2isKqbk96TmN/w640-h478/at%20the%20ready.jpg" width="640" /></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="543" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/D8EHIXLsKv0" width="653" youtube-src-id="D8EHIXLsKv0"></iframe></div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinxcrR6DYVuGzPcuuNz8yirPpx7wNBzLhQTBg1t-K6lgBV3-lypyhUJcm-r383bC7BFy_mBalBwU2F8gGADDCnyLtETuqspH_15X-Pyn6offcr7ChQd8ateSztxrVSgT7xzCEzLx1zTeb3HGgH_9mFUd-KSl-RZbPFhJQB_9nn2isKqbk96TmN/s1680/at%20the%20ready.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><br /></a></div></div></div></div>Del Ray Crosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17314422327103219760noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834445.post-60593430929741162982024-03-05T15:46:00.000-08:002024-03-15T04:57:30.079-07:00mmmmccl<span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small;"><b><i>Tuna Tartare </i></b><br /><br />“This requires <br />good taste.” <br /><br />(Define <i>good</i>. <br />Define <i>taste</i>.)</span><div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small;">(<i>Divine </i>taste.)<br />“Taste changes,” <br /><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small;">as in over long</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small;">or short periods</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small;">of time. Or some</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small;">times, say, when </span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small;">you bite into some <br />thing disgusting <br /><br />(</span><span style="font-family: verdana;">“</span><span style="font-family: verdana;">Oh, did you</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small;"><i>ever </i>think it <br /><br />was going to <br />be <i>so very <br /><br />tasty?</i></span><span style="font-family: verdana;">”</span><span style="font-family: verdana;">). So</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small;">it might be <br /><br />worth repeat <br />ing that <i>taste<br /><br />changes</i>.<i> Duh!</i><br />(Define <i>ranges</i>.)</span><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD-z5V0KRJoPzmrKrucNfUHaJGrtP6Sqho_HUL54WCsk0OTZnpg7lHKKVs0ecPIH7u8Hsn9VTSmM5tsa6IQuyTcjMIcJX8fNFZ_v9PlpbWq6aLeoUlgq-2gMUIwpJFLAuElLm3KLubRdfOqRbfp2hnjV27hyKv8gZcyH7geSwNbJCyEKDxSosI/s2048/tuna%20tartare%20at%20umami%20in%20pacific%20heights%2011-2012.jpg" style="clear: left; display: inline; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="tuna tartare at umami in pacific heights 11-2012" border="0" data-original-height="1429" data-original-width="2048" height="446" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD-z5V0KRJoPzmrKrucNfUHaJGrtP6Sqho_HUL54WCsk0OTZnpg7lHKKVs0ecPIH7u8Hsn9VTSmM5tsa6IQuyTcjMIcJX8fNFZ_v9PlpbWq6aLeoUlgq-2gMUIwpJFLAuElLm3KLubRdfOqRbfp2hnjV27hyKv8gZcyH7geSwNbJCyEKDxSosI/w640-h446/tuna%20tartare%20at%20umami%20in%20pacific%20heights%2011-2012.jpg" width="640" /></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="542" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/ES9AsOdWldo" width="652" youtube-src-id="ES9AsOdWldo"></iframe></div><br /><div><br /></div>Del Ray Crosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17314422327103219760noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834445.post-73055203725034663072024-03-05T01:23:00.000-08:002024-03-14T08:56:44.545-07:00mmmmccxlix<span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small;"><b><i>Atonal Amtrack <br /></i></b><br />This will put you off of it. <br />Mired for days, like a sugar <br />plum in hell with diarrhea and <br />the croup. A man can dream, <br /><br />can’t he? I say <i>whoa </i>to this <i>no</i>, <br />the fan blades whirring for their <br />1,000th consecutive day. Maybe <br />a memory will help when all is else <br /><br />sheer swill. I pull the wool over my <br />peepers and I’m on a train heading <br />south to NYC. Gliding past a gas <br />station in CT some kid filling an SUV <br /><br />under a mosquito’d halo lit by a halo <br />gen moon sees me wave, waves back. <br /><br /></span><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy0BeouiWDsM4mNe4zpFw34rQ2kiVlLI1j6XRBseXr7BVbr2RLfbkldkxYN-hoUExRN7WCFxnzm1lv3f1AzrF0EuV5NYbY0Owq_AR3HQoL_AkB6S5zfrw293FsQFE7sMjC3eu4EDqFNM6oiJ04qQzxaBL3fkxboiyOn0ijgzxf6plsmDH5UajD/s3231/loco%20moto.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="wacky tracky" border="0" data-original-height="2610" data-original-width="3231" height="516" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy0BeouiWDsM4mNe4zpFw34rQ2kiVlLI1j6XRBseXr7BVbr2RLfbkldkxYN-hoUExRN7WCFxnzm1lv3f1AzrF0EuV5NYbY0Owq_AR3HQoL_AkB6S5zfrw293FsQFE7sMjC3eu4EDqFNM6oiJ04qQzxaBL3fkxboiyOn0ijgzxf6plsmDH5UajD/w640-h516/loco%20moto.jpg" width="640" /></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="541" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/l8qC9eezWiI" width="651" youtube-src-id="l8qC9eezWiI"></iframe></div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy0BeouiWDsM4mNe4zpFw34rQ2kiVlLI1j6XRBseXr7BVbr2RLfbkldkxYN-hoUExRN7WCFxnzm1lv3f1AzrF0EuV5NYbY0Owq_AR3HQoL_AkB6S5zfrw293FsQFE7sMjC3eu4EDqFNM6oiJ04qQzxaBL3fkxboiyOn0ijgzxf6plsmDH5UajD/s3231/loco%20moto.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div></div>Del Ray Crosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17314422327103219760noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834445.post-48244080445660893882024-02-29T21:04:00.000-08:002024-03-13T23:04:46.066-07:00mmmmccxlviii<span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small;"><b><i>The Optimist’s Remorse </i></b><br /><br />Idealism is a cruel thing. To<br />keep a shred of it will grate </span><div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small;">and splinter one’s facade </span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small;">until eaten clean through <br /><br />the skull, so that a so-called <br />optimist eternal, as those <br />walls are hacked at, rot and/<br />or corrode, the bloody soul may </span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small;">in but a blink of a moment find </span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small;">the surfaces of a once resplen <br />dent home infested with a <br />thousand glasses, each half <br /><br />empty with a liquid that would<br />drown but always fail to quench.<br /><br /></span><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitaZcDhSBNfYx8Xmf5-8t-_JFbH_bNTuEqXa0Xu9lY0m0MHuYxRhMOueEOv4PdqArW2TfFi9lX0JEtpyl1_HYRhxEthjfOBvhgdd4jmACQCtzJcIMllkgnMlCsZUvlUmaSDdkEnUnjCueX3PZ5SCn9TrIyEOXzFFX2lYH6HLhBAS6DktEh5_Ih/s2048/champagne.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="champagne" border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1403" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitaZcDhSBNfYx8Xmf5-8t-_JFbH_bNTuEqXa0Xu9lY0m0MHuYxRhMOueEOv4PdqArW2TfFi9lX0JEtpyl1_HYRhxEthjfOBvhgdd4jmACQCtzJcIMllkgnMlCsZUvlUmaSDdkEnUnjCueX3PZ5SCn9TrIyEOXzFFX2lYH6HLhBAS6DktEh5_Ih/w438-h640/champagne.jpg" width="438" /></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="376" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/ak3ZkyQnACA" width="452" youtube-src-id="ak3ZkyQnACA"></iframe></div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitaZcDhSBNfYx8Xmf5-8t-_JFbH_bNTuEqXa0Xu9lY0m0MHuYxRhMOueEOv4PdqArW2TfFi9lX0JEtpyl1_HYRhxEthjfOBvhgdd4jmACQCtzJcIMllkgnMlCsZUvlUmaSDdkEnUnjCueX3PZ5SCn9TrIyEOXzFFX2lYH6HLhBAS6DktEh5_Ih/s2048/champagne.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div></div></div>Del Ray Crosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17314422327103219760noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834445.post-22390786094620788812024-02-29T20:49:00.000-08:002024-03-12T04:11:03.608-07:00mmmmccxlvii<div><div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small;"><b><i>Perhaps Among Other Things </i></b><br /><br />I build this <i>thing </i>of how I feel and who <br />I was and what I do to pin down and <br />get within reach—perhaps among other <br />things—of who I am and what I want. It’s <br /><br />on display (this <i>thing</i>), my clumsy efforts <br />just to see and say and hew through all <br />the ugly and the beauty—and the freedom, <br />tense with insistent constraints—of the now <br /><br />(all of which pass swiftly by). And this I <br />do to try to know (and yet I never do) a <br />bit of how to live among you and remain <br />(<i>and yet so publicly?</i>) as curious and con <br /><br />tent as humanly I might, while ever near <br />ing who I truly am and where I best will be.<br /><br /></span><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwyQTvh1v5T-baglrqQRtBytbtZ4GIQ7EupDzzLnPn2YhY4JWx4cumWbgRUGV3pC5eGHpPPx3NAB91MlnNdM6K0L0YkY4kdPX5Cqpt6wIWaVxU3QUjvZEf2X4xWqM_RG37i4JmI9OYavM1zujIf0Bw-8eQi23QbtByrESs47erNNz5hq5fbrpn/s1080/the%20chains%20that%20bind.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="insistent constraints" border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwyQTvh1v5T-baglrqQRtBytbtZ4GIQ7EupDzzLnPn2YhY4JWx4cumWbgRUGV3pC5eGHpPPx3NAB91MlnNdM6K0L0YkY4kdPX5Cqpt6wIWaVxU3QUjvZEf2X4xWqM_RG37i4JmI9OYavM1zujIf0Bw-8eQi23QbtByrESs47erNNz5hq5fbrpn/w640-h640/the%20chains%20that%20bind.jpg" width="640" /></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="534" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/wQGTOXZRKmk" width="642" youtube-src-id="wQGTOXZRKmk"></iframe></div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwyQTvh1v5T-baglrqQRtBytbtZ4GIQ7EupDzzLnPn2YhY4JWx4cumWbgRUGV3pC5eGHpPPx3NAB91MlnNdM6K0L0YkY4kdPX5Cqpt6wIWaVxU3QUjvZEf2X4xWqM_RG37i4JmI9OYavM1zujIf0Bw-8eQi23QbtByrESs47erNNz5hq5fbrpn/s1080/the%20chains%20that%20bind.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div></div></div></div>Del Ray Crosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17314422327103219760noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834445.post-57980958268370106282024-02-27T11:18:00.000-08:002024-03-04T22:57:03.664-08:00mmmmccxlvi<span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small;"><b><i>And So Today </i></b><br /><br />There is war. Lives are lost and <br />lives go on. Lyn Hejinian passes <br />away and we mourn. This, we find <br />out, the morning after attending a <br /><br />celebration of the work of kari <br />edwards. Are we just one big fun <br />eral? Where does this go, but <br />directly back to me? I can’t fix <br /><br />anything. Except I live. Somehow. <br />For now. I’ve an appointment with <br />my doctor to go over my lab work <br />this afternoon. I self-diagnose. I feel. <br /><br />I say a thing or two. It goes without <br />saying, then, that art is not enough.<br /><br /></span><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuU0Mgjob3zHTIXVjIbF8puxYnZRDiWwACwYa5CrKUP4gCXaDe10yalLVUwf7e_rJXdIkqywjUnXLAhd8nLhmVvbzl_h_ZgwV9nclFAeQhju9V8fKzcZQsLPFn4aeqeXTeQGf67pP5a7mqMK2940-OLN5hnveusr42j0oeYFFQlZFhDn_Y5rep/s3583/kari%20edwards%20a%20reflection.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="kari edwards - a reflection" border="0" data-original-height="3583" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuU0Mgjob3zHTIXVjIbF8puxYnZRDiWwACwYa5CrKUP4gCXaDe10yalLVUwf7e_rJXdIkqywjUnXLAhd8nLhmVvbzl_h_ZgwV9nclFAeQhju9V8fKzcZQsLPFn4aeqeXTeQGf67pP5a7mqMK2940-OLN5hnveusr42j0oeYFFQlZFhDn_Y5rep/w540-h640/kari%20edwards%20a%20reflection.jpg" width="540" /></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="463" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/-kd2d6_MB6I" width="557" youtube-src-id="-kd2d6_MB6I"></iframe></div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuU0Mgjob3zHTIXVjIbF8puxYnZRDiWwACwYa5CrKUP4gCXaDe10yalLVUwf7e_rJXdIkqywjUnXLAhd8nLhmVvbzl_h_ZgwV9nclFAeQhju9V8fKzcZQsLPFn4aeqeXTeQGf67pP5a7mqMK2940-OLN5hnveusr42j0oeYFFQlZFhDn_Y5rep/s3583/kari%20edwards%20a%20reflection.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div></div>Del Ray Crosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17314422327103219760noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834445.post-27395311931439946002024-02-27T01:08:00.000-08:002024-03-05T01:45:18.535-08:00mmmmccxlv<span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small;"><b><i>Direct Contact Information <br /></i></b><br />Scary. Helping? For payment <br />methods. Email or send some <br />thing nostalgic. Call Urology <br />Dept. Check other listings <br /><br />for $65. 746-9720. Pick up <br />Maalox. Scratch that. Pick up <br />money order for rent. Figure <br />out how to lick LinkedIn. Pay <br /><br />AT&T. It’s the same bill every <br />day. Pay Mocha. Pay Ally. Pay <br />CreditOne. Pay Capital One. It <br />goes on forever. How do I call <br /><br />the doctor? Would you like it to <br />be different? Yes, I asked that.<br /><br /></span><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs3wJBfyZ3TQbLXAVQBuoXXaWzgCtY37DT33KtVwkbLdec25vzIW5rGbTB3Q1DZkPzDZRWl2iZcCiws8MVjL60BnpJnqR0B8JWHwrEVh7T4-Ny36l01apGdJV-sMepiKJbyZNNm_1oBm1CRhYZslRga4jD27JbC89EQSkDt9X6drhyXHy3YocD/s1469/thank%20you%20medical%20health%20providers%20and%20hospital%20staff.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Thank You" border="0" data-original-height="1469" data-original-width="848" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs3wJBfyZ3TQbLXAVQBuoXXaWzgCtY37DT33KtVwkbLdec25vzIW5rGbTB3Q1DZkPzDZRWl2iZcCiws8MVjL60BnpJnqR0B8JWHwrEVh7T4-Ny36l01apGdJV-sMepiKJbyZNNm_1oBm1CRhYZslRga4jD27JbC89EQSkDt9X6drhyXHy3YocD/w370-h640/thank%20you%20medical%20health%20providers%20and%20hospital%20staff.JPG" width="370" /></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="316" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/l7F_cG1OM14" width="380" youtube-src-id="l7F_cG1OM14"></iframe></div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs3wJBfyZ3TQbLXAVQBuoXXaWzgCtY37DT33KtVwkbLdec25vzIW5rGbTB3Q1DZkPzDZRWl2iZcCiws8MVjL60BnpJnqR0B8JWHwrEVh7T4-Ny36l01apGdJV-sMepiKJbyZNNm_1oBm1CRhYZslRga4jD27JbC89EQSkDt9X6drhyXHy3YocD/s1469/thank%20you%20medical%20health%20providers%20and%20hospital%20staff.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div></div>Del Ray Crosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17314422327103219760noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834445.post-3085171346273414592024-02-26T07:36:00.000-08:002024-03-07T19:18:35.926-08:00mmmmccxliv<span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small;"><b><i>Giant Question Mark </i></b><br /><br /><i>Bill gets knocked out 2nd</i>, <br />says Customer Service. I <br />take that to mean <i>day after <br />tomorrow</i> and, to my dis <br /><br />advantage, do not investig<br />ate further. So much of this <br />tax information is gay. For <br />example, <i>$250 in the land <br /><br />of legal requirements</i>. More <br />like the land of oxymoronic <br />(<i>illegal residents?</i>). My resi<br />dence is suffocating, but how <br /><br />could I possibly complain? <br />It’s tiny. I’m ill. I suffocate.<br /><br /></span><div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_7Ij05N2h_ZPIaGc_48KjlqakAdW7atQmDwxDFy-wFydIY52rtAPUcrmxDBzOtMGAMjv5mhPL5CDjQse-jPDGhRMjxp3ATLoVhWqlD3n5XpVeu6VfiZA68L-0WcQCPqyk1A8gbyStbGm0WpWXkAlN6IoSCiJ4ucSnPlj6zkOkN4xK0umJNIgk/s3268/resilient.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="resilient" border="0" data-original-height="1558" data-original-width="3268" height="306" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_7Ij05N2h_ZPIaGc_48KjlqakAdW7atQmDwxDFy-wFydIY52rtAPUcrmxDBzOtMGAMjv5mhPL5CDjQse-jPDGhRMjxp3ATLoVhWqlD3n5XpVeu6VfiZA68L-0WcQCPqyk1A8gbyStbGm0WpWXkAlN6IoSCiJ4ucSnPlj6zkOkN4xK0umJNIgk/w640-h306/resilient.jpg" width="640" /><br /></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="540" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/r3R1ZxP6mwg" width="650" youtube-src-id="r3R1ZxP6mwg"></iframe></div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_7Ij05N2h_ZPIaGc_48KjlqakAdW7atQmDwxDFy-wFydIY52rtAPUcrmxDBzOtMGAMjv5mhPL5CDjQse-jPDGhRMjxp3ATLoVhWqlD3n5XpVeu6VfiZA68L-0WcQCPqyk1A8gbyStbGm0WpWXkAlN6IoSCiJ4ucSnPlj6zkOkN4xK0umJNIgk/s3268/resilient.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div></div></div>Del Ray Crosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17314422327103219760noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834445.post-28501688875085030332024-02-24T07:43:00.000-08:002024-03-07T19:23:41.338-08:00mmmmccxliii<span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small;"><i><b>Comedy As Art<br /></b>(Isn’t It Always?)<br /></i><br />In what specific cases should one re<br />state a thing they’ve already stated, <br />perhaps innumerable times (<i>Is this <br />art?</i>), exactly as they’ve said it before;<br /><br />verbatim? Not a question for poetry </span><div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small;">(Obvy). It stung as if by dart [<i>comme <br />par un fléchette!</i>] when he yelped: <br /><i>Grandmaaa!! How embarrassingggg!! <br /><br />Don’t you have some candy you need <br />to crush?!</i> This, the butt of a joke re <br />layed at the end of a bit in which <br />those words would’ve been directed <br /><br />at none other than Grandmama Hill <br />ary Rodham Clinton. [<i>C’est de l’art.</i>] <br /><br /><i>(Where to Begin?) <br /><b>Art As Comedy<br /></b></i><br /></span><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilduBSJMIkYAGMaNroTAxLFv9pkmytqenT4_rlJV_66v2fq7C1_FAvVuToilHz8aMWO5epAHtHkXLnx36snsZNwU6k8dwn5ybTyUIUFHNNhDLJgn2zco6wiK2KrUfTZGPpkRDIcKnqG3ZlUmXSlfIud1qQKA2cdiDeBkazMMJ20-KxKoHyykOP/s4000/nobel%20peace%20prize.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><img alt="nobel peace prize" border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilduBSJMIkYAGMaNroTAxLFv9pkmytqenT4_rlJV_66v2fq7C1_FAvVuToilHz8aMWO5epAHtHkXLnx36snsZNwU6k8dwn5ybTyUIUFHNNhDLJgn2zco6wiK2KrUfTZGPpkRDIcKnqG3ZlUmXSlfIud1qQKA2cdiDeBkazMMJ20-KxKoHyykOP/w480-h640/nobel%20peace%20prize.jpg" width="480" /></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="403" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/Kc0wmPDkubY" width="485" youtube-src-id="Kc0wmPDkubY"></iframe></div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilduBSJMIkYAGMaNroTAxLFv9pkmytqenT4_rlJV_66v2fq7C1_FAvVuToilHz8aMWO5epAHtHkXLnx36snsZNwU6k8dwn5ybTyUIUFHNNhDLJgn2zco6wiK2KrUfTZGPpkRDIcKnqG3ZlUmXSlfIud1qQKA2cdiDeBkazMMJ20-KxKoHyykOP/s4000/nobel%20peace%20prize.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><br /></a></div></div></div>Del Ray Crosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17314422327103219760noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834445.post-54841131418178178592024-02-23T02:52:00.000-08:002024-03-07T22:32:51.139-08:00mmmmccxlii<span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small;"><b><i>Dreamscapes </i></b><br /><br />Flashing on the screen like <br />a PowerPoint presentation <br />of gut-wrenching import: <br />$644, $185, $288, $25. <br /><br />Less important things I <br />(hesitate to say) need: a) <br />new swivel chair for desk <br />(with armrests); b) new <br /><br />desk; c) larger refrigerator; <br />d) an actual filing cabinet; <br />e) 2 dress shirts; f) dressy <br />shoes. Never ask for a dime <br /><br />from anyone ever again. <br />Phone bill is due, $107.34. <br /><br /><b><i>Nightmares</i></b><br /><br /></span><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3gvpEsThxQV1LZNdH9kklr2F464h1BCw6nkEMPwQZs8ZbfIUte2FfzaIq_IxNsVyIioOPolp2vr9wU_d5vysVuU518LR6Gn7uYbOPi4HbuNKyBnBXACbrhqPZc06YtrQ0BUebEnFuiPGUUGHw5H_pHut3bzfTU6E4Xg0n3RwyF05KB9TTOncI/s2048/snakemares.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Snakemare on Pine Street" border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1530" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3gvpEsThxQV1LZNdH9kklr2F464h1BCw6nkEMPwQZs8ZbfIUte2FfzaIq_IxNsVyIioOPolp2vr9wU_d5vysVuU518LR6Gn7uYbOPi4HbuNKyBnBXACbrhqPZc06YtrQ0BUebEnFuiPGUUGHw5H_pHut3bzfTU6E4Xg0n3RwyF05KB9TTOncI/w478-h640/snakemares.jpg" width="478" /></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="411" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/4Gv2Nk3_v6A" width="494" youtube-src-id="4Gv2Nk3_v6A"></iframe></div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3gvpEsThxQV1LZNdH9kklr2F464h1BCw6nkEMPwQZs8ZbfIUte2FfzaIq_IxNsVyIioOPolp2vr9wU_d5vysVuU518LR6Gn7uYbOPi4HbuNKyBnBXACbrhqPZc06YtrQ0BUebEnFuiPGUUGHw5H_pHut3bzfTU6E4Xg0n3RwyF05KB9TTOncI/s2048/snakemares.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div></div>Del Ray Crosshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17314422327103219760noreply@blogger.com