jpaulgorman

a slow burner white linen shirt soaked pounding on the stage each foot just keeping the beat one, boom boom one, boom boom waltzes and 4/4 time brown felt hat, sharp rim yells from the cooks to the cooks! shoulda turned the radio to 91.7 that nashville sound sucks a suburban ghetto catering vans lined the back rows breaking news and day counters on a 96 magnavox the music rises at 6 no breaks til after 8 welcome the friday night meat eaters make the kiddos dance tell stories of west texas girls and late night lake drives hoboken jail songs and harps another year for lorrine might as well keep on writin' merle and willie pancho and lefty visions of johanna paid in the stomach tips to spend lights to cut a final nod

later in the afternoon between lulls and second winds a toast was made to the mason jar company the toils and sweats the constant orderings regrets and sorrows offered acknowledged forever

in an instant out of the bounds. over the ridge under the kept grass. through a stain glass around the other side. after the rain comes before the final howl. in between, we suffer but suffering, if endured, produces perseverance. then the character, then the hope. the constant hope as we speed through space, sleeping and in worry, our significance hangs, teetering on a balance beam. awkward and unsure, it hangs. harlot's eyes, wanting another day in her life.

alterations pending, the something from nothing began in another universe decided to create experiements are critical souls were given and enhanced an initial burst of love then the fighting arguing as profession even the church reformation complainers the souls must be fed from the earth mothers mostly always a woman during the last steps perseverance will produce constant hope hope for glimpses of peace like it will be like some days you take for yourself because you have to edit, seperate thoughts to wander or release you wonder these things depending on the lighting give your nose a shot head in your hands slumped over and pleading smell of mexican winds just lit morning some peace, some peace refine, celebrate the steps

been a drought on for weeks and weeks grass is brown, lakes are dwindling suddenly, a steady rainstorm the rain dances worked! dust on the wipers made mud on the front glass in the parking lot they ran for cover like each raindrop was a stray bullet people scared of gettin' wet

a gathering of fools been beaten, they been used the joker wears a rip torn frown the king flips and flops junior blows his top and the smoke keeps coming around the queen snubs her nose goes on afternoon strolls in her slippers and silky red gown the battle lines drawn all the warriors sing songs and the smoke keeps coming around

free hats for the kids, if that traffic jam would clear up. always late out the door, even for her first rodeo. one road in. ticket window was jammed, the cashier explaining the policy on corral seating. free hats indeed, larger sizes for the bigger kids. right then and there we asked a man about our tickets. he pointed all the way down to the far end of the arena and told us where we could sit. we found a good spot eventually and settled in. me and my chicks. the atmosphere was electrified and chicken fried. smell of a rodeo.  red, soft, dirt covered the arena, seats and fences framing the dusty stage. cowboys came and did their rodeoing. bucking, roping, tieing, chasing, lassoing, limping, and hurting. cowgirls too. riding fast. 15.42 seconds took first place. that girl from oklahoma was ticked. the little bulls bucked the girl riders quick. they even got interviews and introductions. must be something--and rare--to see a cowgirl on a bull. the men got the big bulls. bones, ...

walked right up to the property line peered into the woods, over the fence line not supposed to walk on the other side went through and crossed over felt heavy, like the world was watching dead leaves breaking beneath my feet steps were taken slowly and arms cleared the brush shaded from the seering heat of the day, but no wind head cloth soaked with sweat, cotten shirt drenched looked up and saw a pond of water surrounded by mesquite trees and hoof prints muddy water tasted like liars on a dirt road

freedom, holiday weekends freedom, pantry full freedom, late sleepin' freedom, plush carpet freedom, back 5 acres freedom, hula dancers freedom, farmer's market freedom, matching dresses freedom, greased up cutters freedom, polished belt buckles freedom, hand made gift bags freedom, homemade ice cream freedom, slow mondays freedom, poetry readings freedom, telecaster slide freedom, free verse freedom, hand on your heart freedom, hopeless lover freedom, house maid glances freedom, silent family

thinking of rain boots in the snow thirsty dogs around, licking up the puddles on the inside was told the slide was off, but it sounded good to me. brought the piano up on the final draft that nashville song really turned into something the hands smashed in the crash. cutting up that bird at five a.m. had to be written down boyish crushes and the scraps in the yard sing this one for the cooks...to the cooks! already praying for help, the blues again jefferson would likely answer with a question civil war stories, when being a winner was tough. been everywhere in the world with a gun or a machete pure revenge and eye for eye, the tooth takes it's flesh a horn, like a tuba or a trombone, is missing. nonfiction is dominate, but not absolute slide player plays mandolin too, an old mandolin the tag on the end, from the leprechaun's mind. guy clark talking songs, preacherman by the end serving strategies down the middle, painting the line view from the moon,...