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Rod 4/16/04 Photo by Billy Iz
A Thought for Today
This administration has run out of gas.
It wouldn’t be so bad if it wasn’t costing us $2.50 a gallon for what’s
left of it.
Dear Diary,
Halloween doesn’t arrive until Sunday and the post is already clogged
with Christmas catalogs. My pick for most dubious gift suggestion so far
comes from New York’s Metropolitan Museum of Art catalog. “Kid’s
Accordion; everyone loves the sound of an accordion, one of the world’s
most popular instruments. The perfect size for children, this
high-quality instrument produces an authentic sound in a two-octave
range in the key of C. Only $19.95.”
OK, here’s the deal, if there is someone out there you really dislike
and they have children, why not give each of the little kiddies a
Christmas Accordion? This is really a gift that will be remembered all
year long.
RM 10/27/2004
A
FLIGHT FROM6THE
PAST
6 October 1998
A SUMMER POEM FOR AN AUTUMN DAY
It’s cool and quiet today. The beach days for this year are behind us in
sunny Southern California and no matter how hard we all hope for Indian
summer; the chances of it happening are slipping fast.
Though I’m not sure we really had a summer of '98, July and August came
around the same as always but much less predictable than in the past.
Today I’m passing on a summer poem I ran into while re-reading "Looking
for A Friend." From the looks of it I must had a pretty good friend the
summer it was written.
- 10/4/98, good buddy. First published 10/6/98
BEHAVIOR AT THE BEACH
I try to keep
from pushing up against you
on the street
in public places
here at this hardly public beach,
even coming up behind you
softly, stealthily, when we’re at home.
Admittedly my effort
to put a hold on how I feel
is hardly any effort at all,
love has taken hold
of any sensibilities I had
or given me
so many senses of another kind
that even your embarrassment
at open fondling
that should be saved for privacy
fails to keep my hands
in even well worn pockets.
Just now
the beach is filled
with people making love
and building several hundred
unimportant
conversations.
We say nothing.
There is no necessity for speech
between us
but I roll over every twenty minutes
to rub you down with oil
supposedly against the sun,
‘til finally you’re layered
like a channel swimmer
or a lacquer box in progress.
I doubt the sun will find its way
through so much petroleum.
The day done we’ll go home
and you’ll be paler than an egg.
Did I really once perceive you
as a friend?
Oh you are, but so much more.
I hope my trusted friends
of long standing and seniority
will understand why I’ve become
to them a missing person.
If they came upon me now
I’m sure they’d find me certifiable
for any institution they could name.
Come into the water. Uncross
your fingers, I promise to behave,
besides you’re slippery
as an overflowing lamp. I’ll scrub
your back with cool, wet sand.
You can float head up, face down,
at your pleasure, supported by
my forearm steady underneath
your breasts.
You see, I can be counted on
to be good natured as a friend
and as a lover to behave.
- from "Looking For A Friend," 1980
AND FINALLY
A while back Graham wrote Ken to ask if the album Pastorale was
available in any form. It hasn’t been issued on CD yet but the double LP
can still be found at
StanyanHouse.com
Sleep warm and join me again over the weekend.
RM 10/26/2004 8:05PM PDST
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