4 or 5 Cycles - Maybe 6, If You're Lucky

2007

1990

1973

1956

1939

1922

1905

1888

1871

1854

1837

1820

1803

1786

1769

I'm thrilled that they're back. I love the music they make day and night. They're only above ground for six weeks and have to wait seventeen years underground to get that. And our chances to see them are limited, also. If your first encounter with them was at the age of 5 (and your power of recall is sufficient), then you're only going to have six opportunities - assuming you live to the age of 87. Enjoy their visit. Or to quote a subway graffiti message I saw years ago : "ENJOY YOURSELF. IT'S LATER THAN YOU THINK."

Stick It To The Man (towards the back,firmly into the spine)

The Guerilla Poetics Project is a literary middle finger extended in the direction of mainstream publishing. High-quality broadsides (4.25w 5.50l), printed on an antique letter-press and featuring original poetry, are smuggled into bookstores and placed inside works of great literature to be discovered by the unsuspecting reader.

You can read all about it HERE. And while you are there, look around the rest of the site and be amazed at the power of independent writers and what they really care about : Connecting with readers WITHOUT getting rich or famous. Priorities, people. The key word is priorities.

Enjoy.

THOSE TWO LITTLE WORDS

the wonderful smoke
of her final words

"hopefully soon"...

drifts in circles
this early June afternoon
as I pass the time
collecting copper in
small baskets

the radio breaks in
to announce traffic and weather
as paper is stacked and
counted and stacked again

"hopefully soon"...

swirls about and I
try to remember why I bother
getting out of bed or
tying my shoes

war at center stage
viruses waiting in the wings
and no exits anywhere

but closing my eyes
I can draw those words in belly-deep
the scent of woodfire and
lilac closing around
a lost lake in the hills

"hopefully soon"...

(C)2007DaveDonovan


BAR STAFF

the waitresses
are in sleeves of spring
3/4 length soft and pastel
shades of
rose
yellow
ivory

lighting the room in
tones from an Easter ballet

sherbet swirls of movement
passing over the oak floor
in ribbons of purpose

I settle in at the corner
spying over my paper
and the sun approves.

(C)2007DaveDonovan