foto by smith
dropped my pocket poetry notebook into the toilet. reached down into my urine water and plucked it back out. all my words ran purple. so now i’ve finally reached the plateau of purple prose. seems to be metaphoric – folk always tell me my words are full of piss and vinegar anyway. now i’m truth in advertising.
gorgeous sun crisp autumn afternoon blue sky white cloud fluff leaves green and yellow and red falling to ground to crunch underfoot. i don’t fit here, but it is nice to be back. where else but among friends can one have such a perfect opening as lady’s last night. lady has a poem about how friends always see you with old pre-programmed eyes, whereas new people let you be new yous:
“You All have the record of what / I’ve done against which I am compared. But a / new Person is Free to affect speech and ideas. / We expect something New but we have to come back / to the Same Room.”
well, we’re leaving this same room, gonna go find new rooms, new light, new adventures, new faces, new thoughts, same love. we’ve 40 days and nights left here before heading south of the border down mexico way.
we read from our blogs last night at jeff chiplis’s art closing. 40 minutes worth. went very well. good audience. first time we’ve dipped into the blogs. folk seemed to especially enjoy when lady blogs our conversations, which we read back and forth just like we first said them. a lot of good words flowed our way, and after we went to a party where some people knew me in the old days’ daze – one guy said i was their idol back then, that everyone tried to get as high as i, said i was famous. how come i didn’t know?
the neon fotos are from chiplis’s art closing – he finds old neon signs, takes them apart, and reconstructs them into art works. a chiplis show is a pleasure to see, a joyous explosion of shapes and colors buzzing happily at you.
foto by smith