four for Saturn's hours

i would rather golf
than paint for you
a clue
like a Haitian street
artist in sole-less
shoes.

i would rather shop
than fight for it
hard
like GSP with a sharp
ax kick to the solar
plexus.

i would rather shift
into the grey twilight
unaware
like a free spirited
nymph in a over dramatic
playonwords.

i would rather hate
a poem of mine
own
as Eeyore on
holiday in
Muscatine.

yet
(here i am and
not inspired.)

"The Colossus' Glass" Diner Scene: Part Two

**NOTE: The main character's name has changed. Because it sucked before. "Shawn" is now "Angus".**

She just pointed at me! She looked over here and pointed at me!” Benjamin quietly panicked. “Dah! She’s coming over here. Act cool, act cool!” Jenny’s footsteps got closer and stopped at their table.

“HELLO,” Benjamin said a little too loudly, startling both Angus and Jenny, and perhaps himself.

“Uh, hi. The gentleman in the corner wanted me to let you two know that, uh, you shooould… ask him something?” Jenny struggled to remember, “and then get on with your day? Something like that. I don’t know, I think he wants to talk to you.”

“Sure,” Angus replied, “Thank you very much.” He heard her walk away and the kitchen door swing open and shut.

Benjamin was breathing heavily.

 “Wow… how could he hear us? We were practically whispering.” They were now faced with the prospect of approaching a potentially powerful old man who knew they’d been talking about him and who may or may not be quite unhappy about it. Angus took a deep breath. “Okay, I guess this is it. Want to lead me over there? I’ll do the talking.”

With another glance back toward the kitchen door, Benjamin stood up, collected his ice water in one hand and placed the other under Angus’s forearm to guide him.

“Why are we walking so slowly?” Angus asked.

“I’m nervous!” Benjamin whispered. “If it really is him, I- well, I’ve never talked to a medicine man before, what if he doesn’t like us disrupting his breakfast? He’s got powers, you know! He can… do stuff!” Their steps were still short and slow, like an old woman shuffling along in her slippers to nowhere in particular. “And if it isn’t him I’m going to look like an idiot in front of that waitress!”

“Not sure you can help that, pal.”

“Shut up or I’ll walk you into a wall.”

They finally reached the corner booth and stopped, but before they could introduce themselves, the old man, without looking up from his paper, said, “I do hope you like omelets.” Benjamin noticed that there were three plates set at the booth, each with a fresh, steaming omelet. There was a long pause as Benjamin waited for Angus to respond. “…Is that a no to the omelets, then?”

Benjamin elbowed Angus. “What?” Angus whispered.

“I thought you were going to do the talking!” Benjamin hissed under his breath.

“I will, just keep walking.” Angus had no idea they were now standing directly in front of the old man’s booth. “Wait, was he talking to us about the omelets just now?” Angus reached his hand forward and unexpectedly banged it on the table. Completely taken off guard, and feeling suddenly put on the spot, he stammered, “Oh! Hi! Hi there. Omelets, yes! Who doesn’t like omelets? Ha! I know I do! I mean, we do. We both do. A lot. Both of us. Uhhh…” He gulped hard. “Why do you ask, sir?”

The old man replied slowly, “Well, I’m certainly not going to eat all three…”

“There are three plates on his table,” Benjamin whispered in Angus’s ear.

“It’s true,” whispered the old man, leaning forward and including himself in their failed private conversation, “And you’re welcome to sit down and eat two of them. Though I think I’ll have the third, if you don’t mind.” He winked at Benjamin under his great brown-rimmed glasses and went back to his newspaper.

Benjamin let out a little nervous laugh as Angus’s hand found its way onto the booth seat. He slid into the booth as far as he could, until he was directly across from the sound of the rustling newspaper. Benjamin followed.

Both waited for the old man to speak first, or at least to look up from the comics section.

Finally Angus broke the silence. Nervous and dry-mouthed, he cleared his throat. “They smell delicious.”

“Just a moment, please.” He continued reading his newspaper. “Almost finished.” Benjamin and Angus sat motionless, now even more nervous to disturb the old stranger, and quite aware of the fact that they had already trespassed into his booth.

The moment felt like ages.

With one last snicker and a sigh of contentedness, the man folded his newspaper, set it on the table beside his plate, and continued, as though there had been no pause at all. “Yes! Yes, they are delicious. And the peppers here are always quite fresh.”

Benjamin looked down at his steaming omelet, which was covered in a thick layer of gooey cheddar cheese and bright green jalapenos. Then he looked across the table at the old man’s plate. Instead of the familiar green pepper, however, his was topped with a strange purplish-grey pepper. The eggs had char marks surrounding each little bit of the unfamiliar produce. As Benjamin stared, one of them suddenly burst into a tiny flame, like a trick birthday candle.

 “They’re very rare, these.” The old man patted out the little flame with the back of his fork. “And rather abrasive to more delicate pallets, I might add. It’s called the Capsicum Flamora, though locally I believe it’s called by The Reaper.”

Benjamin, still so nervous that he couldn’t find words for a reply, simply said, “Oh…. Mmmm.”

“Yes, ’Mmmm’ indeed. Well, dig in while they’re hot.” Angus reached his hand up to the table and felt for a fork next to his warm plate. He was still getting used to eating blindly, and an omelet was no easy task, especially with a nervously shaking hand. He found that the first bite he scooped up was far too big, and half of it fell into his lap. Embarrassed, he quickly grabbed the bits that had fallen and placed them on his napkin.

“My dear boy,” said the old man in a surprisingly warm tone, “you must be new to the world of the sightless. Am I correct?”

“Yes, sir. Quite new.” Angus froze for a moment while he considered what to say, and decided this was as good a time as any to plunge right into the matter. “Sir, my name is Angus Olgram, and this is my brother, Benjamin. We traveled a good long ways to get here, because…” He gulped hard, set his fork back on the table and took a deep breath, “…because we were told we could find a medicine man here, a healer by the name of Crispin. Might that be…you?”

The old man's deep brown eyes darted quickly over to Benjamin, then panned slowly back toward Angus. The man scratched at his beard and leaned back. He pulled out a long dark wooden tobacco pipe without for a moment taking his eyes off of the boys.

The boys hung on the unbearable silence of the moment as though what came next would decided their existential fate.

Finally he raised his large grey eyebrows, shrugged his broad, slender shoulders and said,

“Tadaaa!”

too many things

pile another thing on top of

windows
hearing aids
shoes
direct mail pieces that i know will just be thrown away
websites
coffee mugs

and a number of other things i am sure i am forgetting
just pile it on.

To Be Had

Just another Wednesday night

And my feet have found the parking lot.

Found underneath glowing neon

Wrapped in Winter’s silent breath,

I wandered in from the north, from the south.

Staggering with a wobbly axle,

Carrying a perfect penniless purse

You caught sight, with my approach.

As an evangelist you proclaimed

I reeked of tobacco and pomade.

Unholy duo, reach forth and break.

Unholy duo, the curtain calls,

For another.

With no objection to be found or had,

Instruction brought deluge, creating

The overflowing glass, carrying

The virgin-white head.

In the hallelujah cheers

Chorus accompanied proliferation.

Holy trinity joined hands; in hand.

Holy trinity breaches thought.

Holy trinity tranquilizes the heart.

We all smell of tobacco, pomade, and beer.

Recipe for a Fantasy

First take one giant, and dice finely.  As the pieces become smaller in size you will notice that you have reduced your  giant into thousands of half-lings.  Take one of the half-lings, and throw the rest in a lake.  They can't swim very well, and no party needs more than one half-ling.  He will serve as the party's rogue, and comedic touchstone.  Short people are funny.  Deal with it.

Next take the largest tree in the forest, and pull it up by the roots.  At this point the tree has far too much substance and interest for our purposes, so begin to methodically whittle it down.  Keep whittling.  That's right, just keep whittling.  Once you have whittled it down to a tall, but toothpick thin strand of wood  (as boring and nondescript as possible) lean it up against a stylish looking fern and it will soon start chatting to you about how wonderful it is.  All elves are like this, but your party must have one, and no one takes them seriously.

The party of course needs someone of the magical persuasion, and for this there can be no better ingredient than a gnome.  For our gnomish ingredient start with a pile of phone-books, and grind them into a fine paste.  Gnomes are made up almost entirely of useless and trivial information, which makes phone books a perfect base.  Preferably from a Midwestern town such as Canton, Ohio.  Alma, Wisconsin also works well.  Take 4 cups of the phone book paste, add burnt hair, a broken typewriter, and speak these magical words, "The party needs a magic user.  I guess.  I mean, we do need one right?  We can't just skip it this time?"  In a puff of smoke your magic using gnome will congeal before your eyes.  He will most likely kill you by accident, and will prove much less useful than expected.

For the final member of the recipe you will need a large stockpile of meat.  The kind of meat doesn't matter much, it's the quantity that matters.  Begin by making a rough shield shaped frame out of wooden planks, and then just start piling on the meat.  You want that shield to be so full of meat that the next stranger who wanders by will hardly be able to resist speaking the magic words of creation, "Looks like you've got yourself a meat shield."  Yes.  Yes you do.  It could be an Orc barbarian, or a dwarf paladin.  It doesn't make much difference.  As soon as a stranger (it has to be a stranger) speaks those words the meat will congeal into a large stupid brute who will run headlong into danger and soak up most of the damage.  They won't contribute much to the story, but you've got to have a meat shield.  For shielding you.  From stuff.

Well, there you go.  Add a pinch of story.  2 T of rivalry.  1/4 t of phobia.  1/4 cup of back-story.  1 religious fanatic.  A handful of cultists, and one extraordinarily evil villain.  Grate in  a generous amount of humor, and add salt and pepper to taste.

Bon appetit.

"The Colossus' Glass" Diner Scene: Part One

What does he look like?”

“He’s wearing a tropical shirt, button-up. He looks like a tourist.”

“Do you think it’s him?”

“I don’t know. I mean, it could be, but really anyone could be for all we know.” Benjamin did his best to relay the important details about the physical appearance of the old man in the corner booth, clear across the diner from where they sat. “He’s wearing khaki cargo shorts with big puffy pockets. He’s got a grey beard, kind of wiry, it reaches all the way down to the table. He has a cane leaning against the end of his booth. He’s reading a newspaper. He keeps smirking. I think he’s-” Benjamin strained his eyes to see. “Yep, he’s reading the funnies.”

Over the clinking of forks on plates and the murmur of the dozen-or-so others in the diner, Angus could hear the old man snicker out loud every now and then. As he listened, he tried to piece together a picture of the old man, combining the details from Benjamin’s description with his pre-conceived image of a powerful forest-dwelling medicine man. “What’s he eating?”

“He’s just got a cup of coffee or tea or something, that’s all.” Benjamin looked around the diner, then leaned over the table and said in a lower voice, “I’m not sure it’s him. Someone that powerful would probably have more important things to do than read the funnies and sip coffee, don’t you think? Or at least he’d hang out somewhere a little more… upscale? This place is kind of a dump. Looks like the back room of an antique shop with a lazy manager.”

Benjamin was referring to the décor of the small-town diner. On the walls were old news clippings, photos of forgotten old women smiling under their bonnets at the camera, or of old men proudly holding up fishing line dangling strange looking fish. There were also various mounted animal heads here and there, some of which were new to Benjamin.

“They’ve got something mounted over the table next to us. It’s got the snout and tusks of a boar, but the rest of the face looks more like a lizard. Like a bearded dragon or something.” Benjamin caught the waitress as she passed. “Excuse me, miss? Do you know what kind of—“ He stopped, seeming almost to swallow his next words. Angus wondered what was wrong. “Uh, what kind of…animal… thing that, uhhh, thing is?”

“Up there? That’s a drabbergoard snake head,” she said absently, hurrying off to bring a fresh pot to the corner booth.

“Oh! Ha! Thanks!” Benjamin half shouted after her, sounding a little unhinged.

Angus’s ears, which had grown keener since losing his sight, picked up the exchange as the waitress filled the cup in front of the man in the corner booth. “Oh, thank you Jenny.” The old man had a British accent. “Say, how’s your mum, by the way? I do hope she’s on the mend.”

“Oh, yes sir, I think she’ll be back at work by Wednesday or Thursday.” Jenny said, in a much more familiar and relaxed tone than she’d used with Benjamin.

“Dear lord…” Benjamin said as Angus was straining to listen across the room. “She is beautiful.” Now Benjamin’s awkward fumbling made sense to Angus. “Dark hair, big eyes, glasses-“

“Shush for a second!” Angus was trying to hear their conversation.

“Those eggs should be done by now. I’ll go check. Be right back.” Jenny told the man. Angus heard her footsteps pass by again heading toward the kitchen. He heard the rustling of newspaper and, after a moment, another snicker from the corner booth.

“So which of us is going to ask him?” Angus asked.

“She’s gorgeous.” Benjamin was facing toward the kitchen.

“Come on, man, we’re not here for that.

“Sorry.”

“Okay, I’ll talk to him, but I’ll need you to walk me over there, obviously.” Angus hadn’t thought of this part. How did he approach the subject? Hey, sooo, I’m blind and wondered if you have the power to heal me? No. Definitely not. How about, Someone told us we could find a medicine man here. Is that you? Are you him? Is… him… you?

“What do we have to lose, really?” Benjamin said. “I mean, if it’s not him, we just apologize and come sit down again, order some pancakes.”

Angus heard Jenny pass by again, and could smell that she carried a hot omelet with fresh pungent spices and peppers, which stung his nostrils. “It’s got to be him. They said he came in every Wednesday at 7am, sat in the corner, read the paper, left at 9-” Just then he heard the old man’s voice and cut his own sentence short.

“Thank you, Jenny! Looks delicious, as per usual. Say, Jenny, on your way back to the kitchen, could you tell those two young men nearest the door that they ought to ask me already and get on with their day?”

Angus’s heart stopped.

day of sun

the north flows
west and east
in my arteries
as i lie by
in this waiting

as a nursemaid
puffing on smokes
in the parlor

i am an addict
for affections
wherever they can
be found

the south burns
east then west
in my veins
as i try my-
self to weeping

as a Sunday dress
flowing down a
perfect shape

i am an addict
of affections
whenever they may
be found.