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more 'Acquiescence'

'Acquiescence' Bring me vellum and charcoal bold Then lay awhile in tepid light Humming and winking Fresh and naked as ...

Sunday, June 23, 2013

Moon Song




  Visualize light containing sound
   Such that the shimmering ripples on the midnight pond
Chuckles to the nighthawk and gossips with the owl
About our evenings on the shore

Imagine that fire flies are glorified beacons
Consummate mating rituals of iridescent flight 
Sung to the tune of 'Come on baby, Light my fire'
For our psychic eyes and prescient ears

Suppose that in the darkest night
Our love song can light up the nocturnal sky like an aurora
So thus, while the Moon rises
We hear a jubilant chorus of scintillating blue tones

Listen, on the darkest night to the smallest stars
Harmonizing with our Moon Song chorus
Bouncing back at the speed of love
To all the Universe, the vibrant song of our love light

Saturday, June 15, 2013

Screaming Helpless

We were mystified. There was no explanation for what we saw on that secluded road in the desert. The air had changed, we could feel it. There was no more going back. People were after us and they were stopping at nothing.

Now as the new life of spring began to shoot out in every direction, mine was coming to an end. Soon they would pull onto that long drive and stop at the walk. Two would get out and the third would sit in the back and wait. Wait for it all to be over. The two would come inside, one from the front and the other from the back door.

I see it now as clearly as I have both times. Just like you had seen the thing at the diner, with your wife., the other day while leaving the bus out on the highway. Each time they took one of three of us off in the gray car and they would get you next.

How could we explain that each could see what was coming? Now I see it again. Ever since that trip yesterday. The sound at the ravine, and ... WHAT? Why couldn't we remember what it was we all had seen? It had to be important. Now we were paying for it, one by one. Finding ourselves back in the car, it just seemed impossible. But the three of us all knew preciously the same things. Yet there was nothing of any importance. And now we each had to wait to be taken. No resistance. Just wait to go with the two tall guys in the frosted glasses.It was all too impossible to explain, and none had believed. They weren't buying it. Not the cops, not her folks, not even the bus driver. He was nice enough. After walking to the rest stop, he had made an exception, and though your card wouldn't work, we had not enough cash. He made up the rest and said: "send it to me when you can." But he never did anything, just ignored the whole story, patronizing. 

There had to be an explanation for it all. Why the car radio didn't work. Why the phone had fried like a potato. Under the hood, all the wires were black and charred. Now at the house I called her folks, but could not explain any of it. They must have sent the cop, but even he wasn't doing anything. Just starred like he was not able to comprehend a word. I never had been so unable to describe anything, especially the taking of Anna. He didn't believe that for one second. The look on his face, the questions he asked. "He'd look into it." Come on, I know, I'm the one he's looking into. And all those questions about Shelia. "Hadn't she called them just yesterday?" Going through her stuff like that."It appears she didn't even take her purse." No kidding, that's abduction for ya. He probably intends to come back with a cadaver dog and start digging up the back yard.

Now it's happening again! The gray car is coming down the drive. It stops in front. The two tall guys get out and go to the front and back doors. The one with the silver hair stands quietly inside the front door, his hands outstretched. The other stops behind you. Slowly you turn and walk out with them, unresisting, toward the gray car. I get in. The car pulls around slowly and they drive off I am sitting calmly in the back seat. But inside I am screaming helpless, like a madman.

Sunday, June 9, 2013

The Apparent Stain (a 3MF entry, round 11)



Constable Harish sighed deeply and stared forlornly at the portrait propped on his office chair. Slowly his gaze drifted from the intent eyes of it's subject to where the oily outline of a sandwich dominated the dark background. Surely his superiors would have plenty to say about this gaff. He did not doubt he would be passed over for promotion out of this remote Punjab village. Such indiscretions were most reprehensible regarding such an expensive item. The frame alone might be equal to his entire month’s salary. Now he mourned the dreary prospects of finding a proper bride, once demoted.

Effortlessly he had deduced the likely thief, solving the crime with only one visit to the hut of Tuka the handyman. Inside, he wallowed about in a drunken stupor, his entire haul strewn about the shanty, his eyes deliriously fixated on this painting. Curiously he denied nothing but sublimely trudged the long path from his riverbank hovel. In route to his inevitable cell he offered no resistance, but now whined in low weeping since locked away from her, Josefi the girl in the painting.

“I beg of you, silence! Punishment shall arrive sooner when I myself begin slapping you for quiet, just so!”

Harish settled down to examining the manifest, checking where each item had, in his own hand, been marked “inspected; condition good.” Save for the half empty gallon of wine, the likely origin of the crime. The new missionary had arrived less than a week ago. The association of the handyman revolved around some unpacking and had now turned criminal.

Harish again studied the painting. His thoughts drifted about the face, young, vibrant, delicate. Her intent eyes were captivating, dark, full of a curiosity. But most assuredly, he felt they gazed serenely at him, seeing right into his soul. Tuka was odious in his behavior though he had felt mesmerized for a spell, discovering thirty minutes later the unholy event. The result was the apparent stain.

He felt ill, but quickly regained his composure, noticing the Missionary cautiously mounting the stairs to his office. He rose and surreptitiously placed the painting behind the waste can, and calling for the elderly man to “please, come right up.” Formalities were briefly exchanged and just as quickly he realized the man was blind. Harish offered him tea, guiding him to the chair. He only inquired as to the recovery of the painting.  

“Tuka has proven to be an intolerable scalawag.” Harish’s voice carried throughout the cell. “However, I am pleased to announce the recovery of all save half your Communion wine.”

“I do not despise his theft of the Polynesian girl, I too have known such an offense.” he confessed, “I witnessed similar events in her young life, during my island services. We consider this 'Lolita Complex' to be a kind of passion weakness. Her image haunts my  penitent sinfulness. From within my dreams I yearn to be free.”

“Are you not blind?” 

“Aye, truthfully, one might first need to know how my blindness came about.” Pausing, his silence filled the room. “Pluck out that which offends…” he answered resolutely, softly he chuckled and rose to leave. “Your attentions are appreciated” he added.

The painting in hand, his smile trembling slightly, he asked, “Did you not see who the artist was? The same signature I have placed on your property manifest.”

Escorting the old man out, he felt his heart rebound knowing he had not to fear having stained a blind man's painting. He considered the long row of steps to the street and decided to have Josefi, always.