Bay Of Ache

Early morning sunrise.

Hear that song?
It's coming from
the virgin dirt
road that ends
at the bay of ache

Singing....wait for me.

Served With Rogue Carp.

Oldie But Goodie
[Take 2]


Didn't sleep much, I've been awake most of the night but I don't care because I witnessed the most amazing lightning, a powerful storm. I came downstairs around 1:00 AM- went out into *the famous porch* -sat down on the wicker sofa and the show began. I could feel electricity wrapping round & round the house, lightning bolts hit the bay again and this time I'm sure that I saw carp catapulting sky f'n high. Think that I saw a jet flying over-head at exactly the same time the carp were rocketing to the heavens. The maintenance crew at the airport should be busy this morning; scrape_scrape. Probably what they'll feed the passengers- carp parts and peanuts served with cheap piss tasting beer. I'm a sick woman. The storm? I'm so charged up I can hardly sit still to type this entry.

*Wonder full* night & morning. The best place to exist is right here where I'm sitting; birds are jammin', it's all wet & green out there and isn't life an awesome gift?

Come on over here mojo dance with me, good morning I love you.

Me and my imagination...no limits. We truly love each other.

I love my brain. It's a vast playground equipped with a jungle gym, monkey bars, teeter-totter, a merry-go-round and a disenchanted poet can been seen sitting under a willow tree. My brain thrives on itself and regenerates cells regularly. Oh yeah, it has those sweet little cubby holes where I stash extra thoughts, such as the above. On the shallow side of my brain, rogue carp spawn, splash and blow bubbles which can be seen rising above my skull.

I provide three quarters of the amusement in this house.

Thinking it over, I provide all the amusement in this house.

Any questions?

My Bird Sculptures

1. Avian Madonna
2. Avian Dancers
3. Avian Lovers
4. Abstract Bird
5. Bird Tree
6. Ancient Bird Man

For larger view double click the image.














Bird Tree Sculpture






Ancient Bird Man



Ancient Bird Man: Collaboration created by Carol, Michael and Mem

Meet Jack

Inside his pulpit. Erotic isn't he? I scan just about everything and I'm amazed with how scanned objects look very much like actual photographs.

Sadness Is Generous

Romance In A Beat Up Chevy


I

She wasn’t what you expected when you wrapped your Cajun blanket around her hope, slipped your hand down, touched her breast. Told her your life story; She heard this one before but she listened anyway. "Girl, I've been runnin’ my entire life and I ain’t gonna quit, don’t be 'spectin nothin’ from this man. I got places I got t'be women I want t'see. Hear what I’m sayin’ hm? Baby don’t be cryin’ on me, you women want to take a piece of me string my balls hang 'em on your christmas tree. What’s that you got in your hands, hey you writin’ one of them poems ‘bout me? Let me take a look. "That man thinks he’s a gift, he doesn’t know that sadness is generous, he hates everything that isn’t about him. I want a man who isn’t afraid of feeling." What? I ain’t afraid of nothin’. You ain’t thinkin’ ‘bout leaving me are you baby? Don’t leave me I need you baby, let me give you a ride home. Damn, she gonna' go...

II


She wasn’t what you expected when you wrapped your Cajun blanket around her hope, slipped your hand down, touched her breast. She reached over, turned on the car radio, Leonard Cohen was singing the Stranger Song; She sang along with him, she knew all the words to the song, you were very impressed. She looked into your sad eyes and asked you if you ever saw the ocean. Then she told you that she was headed to California, was going be a real hippie, wear bell bottoms and weave flowers through her hair. She took her shoes off tossed them out the window, her blue eyes were lit up with mischief and joy. You just kept on driving and all the way to the ocean she sang the Stranger Song. You didn't know that this would be the best time of your life...

III

She wasn’t what you expected when you wrapped your Cajun blanket around her hope, slipped your hand down, touched her breast. She told you that she was going off to college, and you felt sad about her leaving you behind. You cuddled in the back seat, kissed and touched each other. She was wearing the sweet necklace that you gave her, the one with the pretty abalone seashell. You asked her if she would make love with you and she told you that she wasn’t ready to have sex. You didn’t hear her, you ripped her clothes off, she pleaded with you, begged you to stop. You raped her, you raped the girl you loved. She cried, you said you were sorry, and told her that you loved her. Sobbing, she asked you to take her home, which you did. When you drove off you felt something sharp sticking into your side and pulling at it you saw that it was the necklace you gave her, the chain broken...

IV

She wasn’t what you expected when you wrapped your Cajun blanket around her hope, slipped your hand down, touched her breast. White as winters' first snow fall and warmer than a day in the month of August. She leaned her head against your chest and listened to the beating of your heart, hummed to its rhythm and you thought you'd weep into her long hair smelling of chamomile; Sadness is generous, a giving of memories and regrets come to remind you. You can find sadness anywhere; When walking on a beach, pick up a seashell and hold it against the sunlight. It nudges your heart to let the tears come, to bring home lost images of times you left behind or reminders of mistakes you've made along the way. Romance in a beat up chevy, a broken chain, the smell of chamomile, a special song. The sound of your own heart beating.. .. .. ..


Carol Brown ©

Liquidity

Water is a voice in my head and I can't get water out. And I really don't want to but time streams on. All I did was feel, that's all I ever did. Water knows of my surging desire but there's nothing water can do. Because all I ever asked for was too much for me to handle, was too much for me to be. But it doesn't matter because water cannot hear me, I cannot see water. So when I speak of the undertow, water won't be able to hear my voice; I'll be talking to myself while the water's drinking me- I won't be able to see water as it's flowing inside of me. I'm drenched, it's been a year or so of tapping for water because I forgot that there was more to life than water. This life is going to kill me.

People seem to think that they know my story, this ocean of thirst. But people around here don't ask me about my watery life. It hurts to feel that water is some sort of liquid addiction and I just can't seem to leave it behind. I would if I could, but the universe won't stop revealing those tiny little trickles that take my breath away. This voice of wetness won't leave and no one seems to understand that water was all I ever wanted. Because you see I've got this voice of water in my head and I can't get water out.


And I really don't want to...

C.G.B.

Kirby Puckett

"And I played it with all my heart, with all my soul, and with all my might."

And you touched us all Kirby.


Thanks for the memories Puck.♥