December 24, 2012-January 5, 2013: Dave Waddell and Josefine Petersen

Dave Waddell and Josefine Petersen


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Dave Waddell
jrosewaddell@gmail.com

Bio (auto)

I am an amateur award-winning photographer, poet/writer and retired gentleman. I live about 40 minutes from Owen Sound, Ontario, Canada. Out in the country here we are greatly concerned with metaphors and almost every farmer i’ve met has a tall twisted yarn. Often they go too far but I still like them.

The following work is Copyright © 2012, and owned by Dave Waddell and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.

Strangely…. I Felt Like Andy Rooney

A baby elephant and a baby bloodhound have got a new set of clothes and they are much too large for them
The elephant and the hound both have big ears but refuse to listen to a world full of noise
The elephant disappears against his grey background
The hound disappears on a rug by the fire;
As for myself, I can’t disappear until after I eat supper
Then I go into a newspaper with the TV going and I hold it away from me
It’s a mystical experience to disappear with an elephant, a hound and a newspaper, but I can do it

In Connecticut the forests are magnificent in the fall, are they not? ….then they disappear
Everything that I look at and think of is there one minute and then like a mystery it’s gone?
Next month I’m going to say, ‘you’re 78 years old man and you are stuffed full of ideas and things, and experience is just the food that helps your mind grow
Everything looks good and it smells good and you can hang it all in your head like a coat in a closet;
But then slowly you forget something about them…they fade and return and fade again
Then they are there like the elephant in a grey background and the hound on a rug by the fire and the Connecticut forest; how the hell can a whole Connecticut forest disappear? well, it does, and they do.

The baby bloodhounds are on the scent trail of the baby elephants
The baby bloodhounds step lively with a Ha Ha Ha and the baby elephants step along with their trumpets blowing bubbles, pop, pop, pop, above their big ears, yes, yes, yes, and their sad eyes that are not sad
And what I say is, “Baby, hey baby, let’s bounce baby, bounce
Into the moonbeams, baby, let’s you and I slip away
After our fight is over, it will be a bright new day
We’ll make the world all over and slip away;
The world is only a bubble, you have a big hat pin
There’s champagne by the tubful, let’s you and I step in
Into the moonbeams, baby, Oh, where you been.”


Josefine Petersen
petersenjosefine@hotmail.com

Bio (auto)

I grew up in Stockholm, Sweden. In 2005 I moved to LA, where I currently live. Franklin Village, Hollywood to be more exact. Writing helped me through some tough times, and over the past few years it has become one of my biggest passions.

The following work is Copyright © 2012, and owned by Josefine Petersen and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.

The Storm

You were like a wind
Something that pushed me
I was naked
Didn’t have any clothes
They were torn up
To pieces
My clothes
I didn’t have a choice
You were like a storm
Hungry
Greedy
You ripped my clothes
Like a wind
My clothes
Didn’t matter
My core
Didn’t matter
It wasn’t there
Neither was I
Neither were you
As you tore my clothes
No one was there anymore