Beagle in the City #249

Ethan: Ok boys, I need my taste testers!

Simon: I’m ready!

Garf: I call dibs! Din dins !

Lindz: not if I catch you for hugs!

Simon: Hey dad, dad, do you mind to tell mom, this is guys time. We have to test the food.

Garf: hey man, does warden, ahem, I mean, LADY, boss you around like she does me?

Ethan: hey look! Smothered chicken quesadillas!

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Morning youth

I wake up to the morning sky

Foggy

Overcast

Thick

Of memory

Grey and lit with shadows

Overcast dreams

Nightmares

Of wrong and write

I see the light

And tell myself everything is O.K.

Get up

Come on up

Didn’t they tell you

History is written

Remembered

By those who win?

These fading chords

Bleeding ink

Words on paper

Are just tomorrow’s memory

Did you read between the lines?

The love letters in the margins?

“Will you remember me?”

“Not like I used to…”

Come on up

The cards have been dealt

I pour my tea

I sit and write

Here inside

The morning light….

30 for 30 (slide away)

I woke up

Trying to write again

The streets are silent

The talk is on the inside

It’s all the same lines

And
everyone smiles at the table

Drink in their hand

We’re all real good liars

Does the future look good?

And we saw the signs on the interstate

We saw the signs but we didn’t mark the time

We keep waiting for music to save itself

But we’d have to touch something that makes emotion

And we’re still numb from the great promotion

Someone said

It would take a sound

only your gut could understand

What happened to soul ?

I took a walk

My shoes wear down from the unpaved road,

The humidity is so thick, sometimes I feel like I could cut it with a butter knife

I try to write,

But my word document keeps freezing,

So I break out a note pad, you know the ones, paper, pens,

I transfer it to a typewriter

Now I can mail it to the Paris Review

Turn on the radio –

I don’t recognize anything I hear

I don’t relate

What happened to soul?

They say Blues won’t pay your bills

But Blues is the only thing that knows the way I feel

This is a mill town

But the mills are all gone

Does that make this a ghost town?

I like old things

I don’t know how to change

When was the last time you heard a sound

That took you by surprise ?

When was the last time you read something that opened your eyes?

I dress everyday

I Pour wine and coffee

When I write

I have to take myself seriously

get up

Get up off the floor

No one else is going to make you-

Sometimes it takes the change

But one of these days

You’re going to have to start again

30 for 30 (She’s going to make me lonesome when she goes)

October 1st

She smokes her cigaret

Stares out the dirty windows

Waiting for someone to come in

She feels paranoid

But when they do come in

She sits with them

Pours them a cup of tea

Makes sarcastic remarks

She gives them books to read

A trail of smoke follows her every where she goes

Her red hair is pulled up under a bandana

Her green eyes carry an age to them …

November 15th

Everyone that comes in leaves

With a story

For the last five years

It’s been me

We all want something

We want to be something

We believe we are making a mark

She has so many opinions

And ideas

She plays the piano

And thinks it’s funny

It being in a library

Dec 12th

I believe she is a muse

Not in the way we use it now

But in the, what is it? The original way

Muses were something that came to an artist

And helped them make art

Dec 24th

I don’t think she knows…

Jan 13th

She’s clouded

And heavy

Maybe she has been around for too long

Or for such a long time

She has forgotten

She is unhappy

Smokes more

Drinks more

Sleeps all day

Doesn’t get up

Or come sit with me like she used to

She just lets me use the library

I cannot write like I used to

I’ve asked her to go away with me

I think she is going away

But alone

she doesn’t laugh

She won’t drink tea anymore

The sunlight doesn’t come in the windows anymore

She’s going to make me lonesome when she goes…

Sept 20th

It’s been a long time since I’ve last written.

But I think I’ve carved out a way.

To just sit and work…

October 31st

I thought I saw her today

In a bookstore

It was just a moment

A flash of red

But

She looked happy .

Who knows what a muse is?

But maybe

Just maybe

They help us find our way

And our voice…

Who is to say anything is really gone?

Maybe they are there

In ordinary places

Doing ordinary things.

waiting for us to be unexpected

And

extraordinary.