Fool Courting Dance - Page 3

Here I sits. Little House on the Prairie, North Boulder style, me, Augusto, Justin & Julie stashed in their rooms watching Jane and Papa Henry Fonda in a movie. Time winds down to the holiday season and sometimes, a lot of things happen when you’re standing still.

In Bend
They don’t extend
that helpin’ hand
tho’ friendly as can be.
“No Boy Scouts we &
owe you nuthin’
oh you nuthin'”
don’t y’ see
ain’t nobody poor
‘cept fools like me
footloose & free
But they don’t give
a time of day
to anyone who lives my way
– “You have no phone?
Scram you can’t
wash dishes here
Why they’re standin’ in line
Bribin’ each other to get lost
they want this $20 a day
job so much.”
So, “You know where your
job fits the best
– put it there –
I don’t wanna take yer test
Think I pack m’ bags &
head north, north & west

Into land of fog & rain
I am the Fish’s nose again

Skeezo
Frenic news

“I’m here to welcome you to wherever you think it is you think you’re at.” – X Swami X

“Poetry’s trash, mere cloud of words, comfort to the hopeless. But this is no cloud, no syllabled phantom that stands shaking its sword at you.” – Unferth to Grendel

“Sounds like you got a Tennessee to be Seattled in Washington for a Weil. Well good for you. With a little luck, we may vectorize at some future date. But vector rays are hopelessly divergent lines. Think about Heisenberg’s Law – “If you can see her, she doesn’t exist.” Ergo ~~~ if she’s far away she’s probably doing O.K.”

I have a room that’s pretty bare:
there’s one low table, still no chair.
Not a dresser for my clothes –
Boxes stacked are holding those.
The closet’s large, with many hooks
and hanger space and shelves and nooks.
There is a lamp, and ceiling light
but neither of them’s very bright.
The wooden floor could use some wax
to cover many cuts & cracks,
but then, the ceiling’s fairly high,
there’s lots of space, it’s warm & dry.
Alaska’s hanging by the door
the bed is adequate & more.
The kitchen’s nice – the stove is gas
(they’re hard to find up here – alas!).
The Iron Squid down on the street
is parked beneath where sparrows meet.
Poor Squid! I’d like to keep him clean
But then, where park the old machine?
Athlete’s foot creeps between toes
– I have those Coastal Climate woes!

Well, guess I’ll send this off to you;
if you get the urge to rhyme back, do!

MoB:
Slip-sliding away, the closer to your destination the more you go {drawing of slope written slip sliding away.

I realize that Boulder ain’t happening for y’all but I thoughts your direction was headed towards the LAND (no mention of Spanish Peaks homestead in correspondence). My prejudice is to get something concrete out of this place before I splits elsewhere. & I have unilateral Arian drive to get computer job security under the belt (or at least to give it the ol’ college try).

Journey to Folk Arts Music. (Sing song to strangers on the street). Present song to local folk artists (& croissants for a good review) Man on phone bluegrass artist, with an air of silence that conquers all. He speaks quietly, “That was an agent for Nashville Studio they want me to go cut a record, $50,000 guaranteed.” (Yesterday he played Molly’s for nickels & dimes). Played my pitch to his pitch –