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INTERVIEW "..I think poetry's about what can't be said. And I think that language emerges out of what could not be said. Out of this desperate desire to utter something, to express something inexpressible. Probably grief. Maybe something else. You know, you see a silent photograph of an Iraqi woman who's husband or son or brother has just been killed by an explosion. And you know that if you could hear, you would be hearing one long vowel of grief. Just senseless, meaningless vowel of grief. And that's the beginning of language right there. Inexpressible sound. And it's antisocial. It's destructive. It's utterly painful beyond expression. And the consonants are the attempts to break it, to control it, to do something with it. And I think that's how language emerged. " The cord that connects me to heaven is not silver, but the exact color of purple cabbage.
I can see it quite clearly (or was it the mushroom soup?). Anyway, when I climb the cord it goes not to heaven but down.
Maybe I don't rate silver because I can't forgive my ex-husband or my ex-business partner (but then, they never asked for forgiveness) or maybe God knows I'll be happier here, down among the tree roots and rabbit warrens. It's cool, but not cold and I can go anywhere I want now that I don't have to haul around a bulky body. It's dark, too, and I see with earth-tuned eyes: the glowing life energy of worms, beetles, larvae. They no longer seem disgusting to me, rather glorious, misunderstood dark angels who break down everything so neatly for us. There are galaxies inside the earth to explore and I like being here.
I realize I can enter a root-- follow it up the stem all the way to the fruit. I become a plum which is picked by a boy and eaten-- a sensuous experience if ever there was one-- I had never thought of it that way before: the earth enjoys giving herself, her circuits of love always flowing up, up, up, from her porous brown body defying gravity. Now I am sliding down the back of the boy's throat; pleasure shared by boy and plum. Now I understand.
But my cat Virginia comes to visit me (as she has often during my illness); she gives me one of her nine lives so I don't die after all. I whoosh back into my body, the purple cord dissolves and the flow of images stops.
Next time I'll know not to be afraid because I'll be going to a better place
than I ever imagined.
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 Giftbearer, Digital painting by Katie Henderson
Mary Sue's Blue Subaru Blues
My good friend Mary Sue Went to CarMax and bought a Subaru. Can you guess what color? It was blue. But then a bad thing happened. Oooh!
The price of gas went through the ceiling, Well, you can guess how bad she's feeling. Now Mary Sue is blue too. Oooh!
And so she parked it in the yard, Where it became a lawn ornament. Just like her trophy from the cooking tournament-- It’s sitting there, just sitting there, it’s sitting there....
But wait! What's this? She's planting roses in the dash! Some pink carnations in the driver's seat! And though you might think it would clash, Bright orange nasturtiums in the trunk-- You never really would have thunk It could be beautiful, so beautiful, so beautiful!
This is the moral of our stories: Fill up your tank with morning glories. And if your car is way too big, Just put some lipstick on that pig: With yellow roses on the hood, Your car has never looked so good, It will be beautiful, so beautiful, so beautiful... and thus… Get out your bike or take the bus!
Cure for Winter Blues
There are many things to do To keep from getting sad and blue in the wintertime, its true This is what you gotta do... Put on your scarf and matching mittens, Go to the shelter and get two kittens; When you see them jump and play It will take your blues away It will make your winter blues Vanish like the evening news. KITTIES ARE THE CURE FOR WINTER BLU-uuueS
Follow my orders to the letter One is good, but two is better, Don't give up-- you're not a quitter Pick up a couple bags of litter... Several cans of organic tuna... You will wish you'd done it sooner. KITTIES ARE THE CURE FOR WINTER BLU-uuueS
Dogs are pretty much depraved But cats are very well-behaved-- They keep your vocal chords in tune As they bounce around the room. Yell as loud as you're able: "Get the hell off my dinner table!" KITTIES ARE THE CURE FOR WINTER BLU-uuueS
When the nights are dark and dreary, They will keep you bright and cheery; Jumping in the bed when you Have much better things to do; But you can get them back one day: Have them fixed so they won't spray. KITTIES ARE THE CURE FOR WINTER BLUES! |
Futuristic Short Stories
New:
Harvest Time In Hoppy[sic]
Valley-
Late-Nighters on Mars- with bonus folk song! Another post-apocalyptic, hope-it-doesn't-turn-out-this-way drama.
Award-winning Short Stories Why I Stole The Bus, By Kit Carlson*
Romantic Short Story
Songs The Vacuum Cleaner Song
POEM Mtch Md N Hvn Mr. Qwrtpsdf said to Miss Aeiou-y, “I thnk w shld gt tgthr. Thgh wr frm dffrnt wrlds, U hv th vwls I nd, N I thnk U nd cnsnnts, rght?” Miss Aeiou-y said to Mr. Qwrtpsdf “When I’m with you, I feel so…complete! Your gracious proposal meets with my approval. I will vow all my vowels, and embrace your fine consonants ‘til death doth our sentence disintegrate.”
Looking in the starry night filled with wonders rare Is it any wonder that we want to travel there? Still I'm stuck here on the ground wishing I could fly Guess I'll have to travel there in my camera's eye.
Astrophotography... Astrophotography... lets me look into infinity.
Magic photon traveling at the speed of light You left home so long ago, rushing through the night Photon, are you seeking rest, or are you just so kind that you traveled all that way just to blow my mind?
Astrophotography... Astrophotography... lets me look into infinity.
When Thuban was the pole star, dragons ruled the earth Swooping thru the summer air for all they were worth. When I trap The Dragon in my trusty CCD I can see a Cat's Eye looking back at me.
Astrophotography... Astrophotography... lets me look into infinity.
Now the still-point of our night is guarded by a Bear His two sisters point the way so you can find it there They guided slaves to freedom; they guide us still today As we ramble freely across the Milky Way.
The Vacuum Cleaner Song
I hate to vacuum with the white hot passion of a hundred thousand exploding super novae. It puts me in a bad mood And makes me act rude; It makes me crazy; It's not that I'm lazy Well, ok, I am but what's it to ya? If I hear the phone ring It's not a good thing: "What the hell do you want? Can't you tell I'm busy!" "Oh hi, Father Murray, No I'm not in a hurry. I'm so glad you called me, I was just praying for peace. I know I'm whining; I should be pining for all these modern time-saving appliances. They're all made in Chiner; what could be finer? Well, I could care less. Give me back my broom. A broom is honest and simple and true A thing of beauty, I'm tellin' you. They're made by blind folks Who like my lame jokes. They paid me to say this: "Go buy a broom." Sometimes the old-fashioned ways are better than the new. Sometime the old friends are the only ones who stick by you. And sometimes God pardons this old-fashioned girl Who has to clean up all the dirt in this dirty old world. Give me back my broom. |
