Cloud Portrait
Month: July 2023
With General John Bradley
John is one of our Nashville friends. He is a great and kind man. To learn more about General Bradley and his nonprofit work in Afghanistan, please visit: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_A._Bradley & https://lamia.org/
Disabled
spondylolisthesis, 4 to 6% of the adult population have it, including me, i want to tell it that i was a once a runner, on trails, on hills, even won a race-in my age category, and don’t forget the hikes, everywhere, usually no less than 10 miles at a time, but it doesn’t care, it likes that i’m 50 and more vulnerable now, i assume that it wants to take over my spine, degenerate me day by day, and there we go, my mindfulness in freefall, pessimism taking over one breath at a time, i thought meditation was preparation for age and lack of movement, but eight hours lying on one’s back on a rug can crush the unenlightened, but to quote frou frou, there’s beauty in the breakdown, going on 13 weeks and yes, more patient, yes, more empathetic, yes, i’m here writing more, so i can’t walk for more than 8 minutes at a time, but i can be a better human being, i’m trying…
Happy 17th Sloane!!
Barbie
proportions have been measured, false construct, loved by all, hated by many, icon of what was and will never be, songs sell her, pop is her culture, warhol and gerwig, paint and project her, money made her, throw her away and she comes back, plastic american boomerang, life after death, like monroe, immortal it seems, a dream and a nightmare.
I Am Your Hammer
you have heard the stories about maxwell, john henry, i have killed, driven steel, been a tool of justice, like peter, paul & mary said, some might refer to me as gavel, calling court to session, nails fear me, when i was hank aaron i made pitchers nervous, i show strength at carnivals, i sometimes miss making thumbs change color, you need me for tents to stay grounded, i help penetrate the earth, thor is nothing without me, throw me, hold me, pound me, love me, i am your hammer.
I Am A Cigarette
marlboro red, the name matters, i look cool on horseback, camping, driving a truck, my synonym is man, as in, i will make you a man, your lips like a sturdy red brick chimney, creating fire, man fire, from mouth, into lungs, nicotine is my dirty word, don’t say it, it’s addictive, but i don’t care, i was born to be burned, disposable, like life, yours is mine, eventually.
Meet the Beatles!
john, george, paul, and ringo, peering out of the darkness, capitol records, 1964, my first glimpse of the british sensation, a window into my mother’s 20-something obsession. as a kid how could anyone not love i want to hold your hand? then, 1986, matthew broderick on a chicago float, twist and shout, later, revolver here, there, and everywhere, first snow in early december maine, young love in the air. and i still listen to do you want to know a secret? but it all goes back to my mom playing that album, dancing like the 1960’s never ended.
Camp Counselors At Night
2am and even the mosquitoes are sleeping, but we are still up, campers slumbering in bunk bed cabins with wet towels hanging from wooden pegs, luna moths circling bathroom lights in the distance, the talk goes on and on, 17 year-olds under summer stars in virginia countryside night, sitting on wooden picnic tables, flirting with time and each other, we’ve hit that moment where words don’t matter anymore, just eyes twinkling in the quiet dark surrounded by trees, warm july breeze, daylight will arrive, but not yet, not yet.
when art influences life
we must constantly look at things in a different way, mr. keating says in an empty movie theater, empty except for me and a friend, two amc rooms showing the movie at the same time, but everyone else went right, and we went left, so when robin williams stands on his desk, we stand, dead poets society, you guessed it, or you knew, to think that was 34 years ago, and who became a teacher and poet?
Daniel W. Polk 