PRESIDENTS

(Originally posted on the website Heron Flight)

PRESIDENTS

Kneeling roses disappearing into
Moses’ dry mouth
Breaking into Fort Knox stealing
Our intentions
Hangers sitting dripped in oil
Crying freedom
Handed to obsoletion
Still you feed us lies from the tablecloth

Everybody’s going to the party
Have a real good time
Dancing in the desert, blowing up the sunshine
Everybody’s going to the party
Have a real good time
Dancing in the desert, blowing up the sunshine

Blast off!
It’s party time
And we don’t live in a fascist nation
Blast off!
It’s party time
And where the fuck are you?
Where the fuck are you?
Where the fuck are you?
Why don’t presidents fight the war?
Why do they always send the poor?

From “B.Y.O.B.” by System of a Down

Watching Things Grow

(Originally posted on the website Heron Flight)

20050529arissassunflowers

Arissa wins.

Her sunflowers were the first seedlings to sprout.

My zinnias and love-lies-bleeding came in for a close second and third.

One of the simple, basic joys of human existence is watching things grow.

THE RED ROSE OF JERSEY DAILY PHOTO

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(Originally posted on the website Heron Flight)

I’ve started a new daily photo project. This one is called “The Red Rose of Jersey.”

We recently moved, hence the reason for not having time to write much of anything for a while, and now have a nice front porch and sidewalk area that we do not have to share with obnoxious neighbors as the case was formerly. So we started a “bucket garden” with tomatoes, peppers, cilantro, sunflowers, marigolds, zinnias, bells of Ireland, love-lies-bleeding (Oooooooo!), and more.

I picked out a rose plant, American Beauty variety. As it is not much more than several stalks sticking out of the soil and a few bunches of leaves, it should show many changes as it grows. A perfect photographic subject!

This time I am using Arissa’s camera at a large pixel setting mounted to a tripod. This will give the photos a more consistent look and quality. I will post a small version of each photo on the site along with a link to the larger version for anyone who wants to see more detail.

My last daily photo project, A YEAR IN ONE PLACE, lasted for, uh, well… a year. I’m not sure how long this photo project will last. Maybe just for the season until the last leaf falls from the plant in autumn? Maybe through the winter and into the summer of next year? Until there is no longer enough server space on the internet to hold all the pictures? We’ll see…

So… with that little introduction, here begins the Red Rose of Jersey project.

Click here to go to the photo gallery.

MICROSTORIES

(Originally posted on the website Heron Flight)

May 18, 2005 “MICROSTORIES”

I had an opportunity to meet with several local writers last month. An exercise in preparation for our meeting was to write a microstory consisting of 150 words maximum. Here are two which I wrote.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

THROUGH THE GAPING MOUNTAINS

“Come on, men! Keep going!” he shouted to us over his shoulder.

Through the gaping mountains we trod on, most of us knowing we would never make it, though we dare not give voice to our fears. With the loss of his own son just days ago, how could we be so heartless to the Commander? True, he has never shown much heart toward us. Yet, what he denied us in kindness was compensated by loyalty. We may doubt that we could survive these mountains. We could not doubt his determination to lead us on.

“There! To our left! The cave! Jacobson! Bring my gear inside. Prepare a fire then stand watch outside.”

“Yes, sir!”

“Brownstone! Bring the maps here. With any luck, the sky will clear and we will determine our bearings. Have the men tend to their arms. When all is set for defense, let the food be prepared.”

* * * * * * * * * * * *

I ONLY WANT TO DANCE WITH YOU

She swirled. She twirled. She smiled.

Oh, God, how he enjoyed her! Her every movement thrilled him. He wished that time would wait while they danced on and on.

“You are my world, Colleen… the air I breathe, the beating of my heart.”

She smiled and kissed him lightly.

Had she sensed the note of sorrow in his voice? He did his best to hide it. He did not want to see her sad. He knew that he must tell her. Not here. Not tonight.

Let this be the last carefree evening, he thought.

His doctor’s report was grim that morning. He feared it would be. For weeks he had hidden his pain from Colleen. She loved him and depended on him. How could he fail her now?

“I love you too, Robert,” she whispered as the music faded. “I only ever want to dance with you.”