Week of August 30-September 5, 1999
I’m an old guy, poor health has run me out to pasture I’m tired of retirement I have a truly lovely wife, three children and one grandson Have I told you I’m retired? I guess I did Have I told you the old memory chips are slow RAM? Just think what you have to look forward to I live up in Canada, in Ontario, in Bruce County, not in town, in the country The nearest big city is Kitchener Waterloo Have I told you I’m retired? I’ve been published in some local papers, circulation about 40,000 Have I told you I’m retired?
The following work is Copyright © 1999, and owned by Dave Waddell and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsover without written permission from the author.
Deeply, I Feel
I have spent twenty years overcoming my fear of high places
Now I routinely tie my shoe laces with the flourish of long practice
Most of the time I check my skin like a potato
Half the time I find my eyes have not grown
The rest of the time, I spend dreaming
Most of the time, I spend at summer resorts
I can not tolerate some things while others I may, it depends.
If I draw a picture of a horse, like a child would with a flatness on a page and some hills on a page, would the horses glide over the hills like a page sliding off a table?
Daphne wrote a story about a bird
Oh, he wondered, am I in a poem?
It’s Hard to Describe Summer
The ice cream smelled like a flower and the children looked like butterflies.
What’s on Channel 4
On their way up they are hungry and on their way down they are desperate
When they first start they are trying to carve out a place for themselves
They are good and bad, they will do what they need to
The love to be creative and successful and everybody knows it and knows them
Then they hit a block, Arnold Palmer loses his swing or Babe Ruth his or Rembrandt loses his
stroke and they have to face twenty or thirty years of trying and they know how great and
good it was and they want it back and it refuses and they talk to it but they can?t touch it ever again, like a divorced couple from a failed marriage that once worked and then doesn’t and they can’t
walk away and leave it;
Listen, you think these guys have fun and they had such great freedom but it was only there at the start and then the gears get at them, put to them, they come out hamburger
So they try to live fast, live hard, get it up, use it up before it’s gone You want to see what happens when Arnold Palmer loses his swing or Mickey Mantle loses his
swing or Mohammed Ali forgets something or Bob Dylan remembers over and over on stage
When you go on TV and say, “Hi, I’m Arnold Palmer ” I want to say, “I understand and I love you “
But living life uses it up, then makes the cut The only thing it seems I can say is, “Here is a paint brush and here is a can of paint, paint yourself out of a corner if you can; we love you but we also have our disappointments “
“Hey, what’s on Channel 4?”
The Postman Rings
I went to the store and purchased a new hard boiled egg, then I cancelled my insurance, then wrote a note to the postman asking her to forgive me for all the yogurt I rubbed on her body the last time
we had dinner
I knew that you like ice cream and balloons but I thought we could lick stamps together In future I shall never fish from your balcony, it is too easy to drop a line like this;
I cannot resist you, I shall send you a postcard, airmail from home;
I know a girl who broke two toes because one was not enough.
Is It The Season?
So the guns go off when it is just light enough to see
Imagine you are a lovely creature invented in the heart and mind of God
And set upon the earth to get your life, to produce and reproduce
And one day just when everything is before you and behind you
And everything has an easy understandable shape
And when your connection to everything outside of yourself is nearly perfect
Three shots punch out dimly in the early dawn and it is all over
Now imagine it is real
Now you don’t have to imagine it because it is real.
For What It’s Worth
You can’t catch a fish with a frying pan
Who said that?
I think it was Brautigan.
Alana Mae Alcott
Alana is not very published, or known (in general, and is having a hard time trying to write things about her self, which makes her scared) She is interested in everything, and tends to carry a (35 mm) camera along with her to steal memories and such She enjoys lounging around with her pet tortoise, reading and smiling, as well as the Pacific Ocean She wants to make art for a living.
The following work is Copyright © 1999, and owned by Alana Mae Alcott and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsover without written permission from the author.
For the boy on Garnet in P.B
there is something
in your eyes that
shakes me to the
bone when you
ask me for change
you have deep dark cheek bones
starving arms long sad blue
eyes, and a desperately addicted body
i offer you my apple it’s delicious, so good
i am almost begging you
to take it
it scares me
seeing you like this
for the first time willing to ask me a complete
stranger to aide you
in your journey
“Take this,” i say Holding out my hand
i refuse to believe
that you have no hope
even after you deny
and walk on.
I want to tie you up
i could analyze this
to be tied up restricted owned and controlled.
“I’d Say “
I’d say we could
dance in the moonlight
right on this very pier
And you could stop
the dancing just to
look at me.
Today Is Mothers Birthday
i talked to her 2 years ago
on her birthday, that was the
last time i heard her voice she sounded so beautiful
and worn, tired and southern
her accent is comforting
sometimes people say i sound
southern i don’t know why
she sings like an angel she’s old though, tough
from her addiction i hope
she’s missing teeth,
brain cells and her 3 children
she smokes Camels and drinks
iced tea without sugar
she lives in a house
with no running water,
she is brave she is a survivor
She is losing her eye sight
in her left eye she would paint
unicorns on envelopes
and hibiscus on watercolor paper
but she stopped.
she gave me a tattoo
with a needle + india ink
on my right hip on the floor
in her bedroom that is
how much a trusted her
trusted her enough to
lose all my inspriation
for the sake of her happiness
she never lied to me
and i didn’t hear a word
about it she never lied to me
she just didn’t tell me
there was distance and miscarages
loss of the one inside
[to painful to say why]
says the D and then
when confronted figures she would lie to me
eventually distance is
perpetual even if it’s only
we sit cross-legged
mine seemingly moving
spelling words and comple
confident in their