Tag: Whimsy
Days of long shadows
Especially when the sun barely rises above the horizon.
Somewhere in the winter ahead.
In an archaeology of imagination
It was a place meant to be worked by horses.
A covered bridge just down the hill.
Kinisi 30
On into unending depth
Hoping we can swim
On into unending depth
Could genius hide out in an out-of-the-way crossroads?
When biblical translator and subversive revolutionary John Wycliffe (born 1384) meets up with the psychedelic painter Hieronymous Bosch ( born 1450) in a railroad-siding town on the Great Plains, who knows what will erupt. Especially when modern dance genius Isadora Duncan (born 1877) joins the action. Who says great genius doesn’t continue, even in the most out-of-the-way places?
That’s the premise of my novella, With a Passing Freight Train of 119 Cars and Twin Cabooses, which has become part of my new book, The Secret Side of Jaya, now that she’s entered the fray. Jaya has, after all, shown up in town as a do-gooder social activist. How else is she supposed to keep her sanity in relative isolation?
Well, there is the Laundromat plus a subversive operation from an old warehouse owned by Virgil and Homer, as in Latin and Greek classics, erupting in my wildest prose to date. The original work bitterly split one competition jury that awarded publication honors to another author. So be warned, you’ll either hate or love it.
But it’s only part of the resulting new collection.
Kinisi 29
Outfall No. 5
Outfall No. 7
Oh, my! Consider the implications
Banana Republicans
(It’s not an original phrase, but useful.)
Well, let’s see. Banana Republics were company-owned countries managed by puppet dictatorships relying on intimidation and militarized police for the benefit of a few to the detriment of the public.
The new twist sounds like a foreign policy coming home to roost like a ghost from the past.
Anyone else feeling spooked?
Here’s my nomination for the most disgusting organizational name
Immigration Removal Services.
These are real families, not trash or vermin. And it’s not a service but hard-hearted and brutal persecution of a largely racial nature.
Shame, shame, shame.
Kinisi 28
when art was tribal
not commercial
rightly communal
a fish for your thoughts
1 a.m., thinking of the past
I smell a skunk crossing darkness, somewhere outside the dark window.