i just wrote this in a few minutes... of course i know it sounds like it too... they all do... don't they...

announcing all the trumpets... a flying horde turns

left and whiles the sun... wheres the heat... stores

a candle back there... under thinking it never flows

that you young thing have wings... a turbid dream...

acting modern and generous in shoes... then

i tempt anyone standing to sit... then i maul a

course of angels and vote... ferociously... musical...

it's the kind of thing i might post over at finish your phrase... and why not... i might post it there yet... hell, i wrote with that in mind... since i've only done one for today so far...

but where did this come from... was it just another random brainsplurt... i walked up the stairs from dinner alone and found that phrase in my head from - let me see - emerson's "the snowstorm"...

and why? it's been a nice bright blue day no snow in sight... i'm not teaching emerson this year... i had a beer with dinner... and it's been a longish day because after school until just before dinner i helped around the salvi arena with decorations for the homecoming dance tomorrow night... so i'm tired and maybe a bit slaphappy - i like that word... slap... happy - so i began to type

announcing all the trumpets...

and of course i know that emerson wrote "announced by"... and those were the words in my head... but i didn't type that... and then i looked at the keyboard because i always look at the keyboard... and the letter f turned into flying... and horde popped out of somewhere (never nowhere)... but i stopped short because horde is such a damn poetical word... and now re-reading i see that anyone would think i meant a flock of birds... but i wasn't thinking that at all... i'll swear if i have to... i was just letting one word turn into the next... which is something good poets never do... don't ever confuse me with one of them... maybe i was thinking of the witch's monkeys in the wizard of oz or maybe i was thinking of the luftwaffe... maybe i wasn't thinking at all...

turns left and whiles the sun...

ah, political allegory... not likely... that would require an idea... and whiles the sun just sounds right... it needs to be there... possibly more than any other phrase in this piece... and i know it's the one you want most to fiddle with... too bad... and wheres is to be taken in the same spirit... there's no missing apostrophe... and as for the rest... i just don't know... more typing and accepting what gets typed.. a little fiddling but not much at all... ever...

the doorbell just rang.... it's the pizza guy... delivering to "the chapel"... but that's very odd because there's no one in the chapel... everyone is over at the game... the homecoming game... he calls back to homebase and is told something about how a retreat is returning and they want pizza... but there's no retreat this week... the girls are out next week... but why would anyone order pizza a week in advance... so very strange... a mystery... no doubt...

and then the phone rang... a decidedly male south asian accent asks for me... and gets me... it's my credit card company... he - or they - starts talking and i stop him because he's reading so quickly... i can't understand... then he goes on more slowly but soon i have to stop him again to clarify... they want to do me a favor, to protect me in case i get hospitalized by some catastrophe... like i fall down and can't reach my checkbook to scribble out my monthly payment... they're going to be good guys and cancel my minimum monthly payment for the duration... or until i can get back up... but then there's this package plan deal and i get thirty free days... to decide... so very nicely i interupt because i don't want this guy to lose his job... he sounds like he needs it... but i tell him that i'll have to take my chances... and then i tell him again that it's not something i want to do - whatever the hell it is - and he says goodbye... and i lose my thought... the one where i was talking about that stupid poem... or whatever it is... no it was about the great pizza mystery...

because when i got back from the pizza fellow... and before the phone rang... i didn't sit right down to continue typing this, but i went into the bedroom to see what the cat was doing...

she was sitting on the floor by the bed... so i snatched her up and walked to the window... what a show out there... cars parked everywhere every which way... taillights... headlights... and a big yellow school bus blocking the bottle neck where the city street (mckinley) turns into the school's driveway... and blocked cars turning around... even the cat was impressed by the scene... but then she wasn't... and the phone rang...

i love friday evenings... really... you never know... you just never know...

He is the best sailor who can steer within fewest points of the wind, and exact a motive power out of the greatest obstacles.

Henry David Thoreau

 

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