Help Tiny Tim or Bill

Just call me Tiny, as in reduced memory, not to imply a areas... I have survived relatively unscathed where it counts! (-:

So, I need everyone's email address again. I've lost them somewhere in the new job transition with addresses changing and names and numbers flying. Will anyone oblige me or allow me to swing slowly in the ethereal void?

TB

Back from Alabama

I've been in Alabama taking care of my mother. She had an ovarian cyst removed. It was benign and she has recovered quite well. I stayed until she was able to drive herself around. I really love sitting on her front porch early in the morning. Here are two cutesy poems that came to me there.


BEAUREGARD

Beauregard, the Labrador,
barks at buzzards. Not ground bound
vultures, but the ones circling

in the sky. I remind him
to get them down he should be
less lively. He’d rather bark.

The idea of carrion
he finds offensive. Who knew
dogs can see so far.



SQUIRRELS

All the dogs I know proclaim:
Squirrels! Most evil and devious
creatures in the universe!
Do not let them in your yard!
In my mother’s neighborhood
evil abounds. It searches
for acorns, chases itself
in circles, and flees up trees.
It chatters from a safe height:
All the dogs are fenced or leashed
and no one owns a kitty.

I'm Tired

It's that point in the year...semester's end, flagging spirits, incredible fatigue. Every year the same struggle, my mood lightened only by the return of the nesting hawks, the flycatchers' early whistle, and the appearance of blooms on our native shrubs. I turned in my spring grades last Friday, had a housefull of guests all weekend, then started teaching Maymester on Monday (Latinos in the U.S.). Mrs. Lytle steps in and takes over at this time of year. Eve is teaching a yoga class at the university, which is among the few bright spots in my May and the only time Zoe appears until I get rested.

well

So, where is everybody? I know. Life doesn't allow for every dalliance. I think it's more about time than inclination. I just heard a most remarkable CD by Peter Rowan with guitar viruoso Tony Rice. It's Rowan's latest effort, and he demonstrates that his voice is pregant with lyricism. There is poetry here in presentation, very much in the tradition of poetry readings/slams. The lyrics of virtually every song on this album are like incantation, a form of magic transporting the listener to places that exist eternally in the human heart.

I'll have more on this later. Consider this a call to arms for the RUG. So?

2 Poems

CAUTION

Newly divorced, I wanted
sexy friends and friendly sex.
I found you who knew her heart
was cold; romance, a failed dream.
A perfect match. We wanted
to get laid. Our bodies fit
too well. You advised caution.
But our spirits fit too well.
We tried to stop at respect
and adoration. Our minds
fit too well. We admitted love
and learned the truth of caution.
We whisper the same promise:
I’m as reckless with my heart
as I am careful with yours.



AFTER

After the wisteria
shatters and honeysuckle
becomes a fragrant tangle
at woods edge, it seems the world
has always been this lush green.
The memory of branches
stripped bare brown is powerless
to prevent the moment
from stretching to forever.
And vice versa. The moment,
whether hopeful or helpless,
grows into a destiny.
If it isn’t yours, just seize
the moment after.

Merlefest 2008

Carolina Chocolate Drops Sweeten the Night

The Man Speaks

Saturday at America's largest roots music festival was messy, to put it kindly. The rains came that morning and turned the parking fields and the festival grounds ashen gray. Still, a muddy day at Merlefest is better than any work day... ever.

Doc Rolls Along

There is so much to recall about this year's four day journey through music paradise, and I will get to that in due time. Much to recount. Much to admire. So many fine threads of memory to spin into a fine cloth to keep the spirit warm in the days and months to come. Stay tuned.

Waiting and Cleaning

Outside your house in the red dusk
With the yellow glow of roses
In the window,
waiting for the invitation,
that never comes.

In my kitchen red sauces and
Squash blossoms on the fire simmer
Into the night.
The scorched caramel is washed away
At day's cleaning.