Combined With Taste

...we don't come up with this...true art us not from us...melody is revealed...in the blank stare humming...in the tapping and the ticking...the whole world moves in 4.4 time for many...for others silence is the preferred noise...moderate indulgences combined with taste...which is from us and easily misapplied...like an instrument...we are to be used...worn out and discarded...but that is for later...now we are being calibrated constantly...inundated with inspiration...tugged at with incredible persistence...made sick for resisting....made alive for allowing...this is for nothing...it is for someone else...but it is not from me...

Be Back Directly

She's gone mad on the live wire.
You are welcome gentlemen.
This one ain't ready.

Only the broken can continue.
The perfect are too frail.
Darts for eyeballs.

Sure enough it worked out.
It always does.
In some way or another.

I'll be back directly.
Gonna drive the south field.
Check on the fence wire.

Need to get the powder out.
Those animals getting eat up.
Damn flies.

Wildcats growling for real.
Devious intentions.
Thirsty and ready.

Big Sun

It's a big sun this morning.
Her heart toubled and burning.
It's alright.  Honey it's alright.
Got dropped in a spot.
World got rocked.
Truth is the only clarity.
Cg
Fc
Gfc

The Wilson Hope

 
    The winds blow wild in Wylie.  Always.  The 4 courts are set on a hill, enclosed by a single fence.  One side has no windscreens and the ones loosely attached along the remaining sides hiss and howl when it gets breezy.  Halfway between Rockwall and McKinney it's proximity was ideal for a Saturday morning Isner Roundrobin.  Joe was already there when Keck and I drove up around 7:45 am.  Bobby arrived a bit later and we got loose.  Because we knew 40 games awaited us, the warm up was brief and we spun racquets quickly.  2 up, 2 down and the pairings were clear.  Keck and I, Joe and Bobby.  The format calls for a 10 game mahut against each player, with #1 and #4 playing #2 and #3 in a 10 game doubles mahut to finish it off.  The first 30 games replicates a morning or afternoon KOtC session.

     Predictably, Keck took first.  Bobby and I battled for #2 and at deuce in the final game of our mahut, our 30th game of the morning,  it was still undecided.  Exhausted, I fought off the swirling winds, kept my toss low, and served it out.  Bulldog Bobby is always tough.  Our 5-5 finish left him #3 after Keck destroyed Joe 9-1.  Despite Joe's 6-4 win over Bobby and a never say die 4-6 loss to me, his final mahut destined him to #4. My Wilson Hope racquet was wobbling at the handle.  It's bent frame was noticeably warping the head.  Factory strings, strung at about 51 it seemed.  I had played great with this racquet and was reluctant to make a change.  Two of my racquets are getting fresh strings for KOtC, but for now, I was playing confident with the white and pink Hope.  They'll cure that cancer one day.  For now, keep on walking across the city.  Keep on being pink.  Joe was blasting forehands, mostly out, Keck was hanging in every point and keeping the pressure on.  His intolerance and disgust of mistakes is a powerful weapon.  Bobby has really gotten to another level.  His results are clear.  My serve was maddening all day but eventually put me at #2.  Double fault mumbling.  The unkind tape.  Bobby and I tied Joe and Keck 5-5 in doubles, with every point contested to the maximum.  Thought about the Lone Survivor movie, the true story of 4 Navy Seals in Afghanistan.  Markey Mark stars in it.  Incredible story of people who always see a way to win. Serving, but down 1-3, 15-40 to Bobby, I thought of them.  We changed over at 2-3.  Only one survived.  Remember them on Veterans Day.  11/11.  God's Will, amen.

Big Moon

.big moon tonight.
.thousands and thousands of human hours.
.idling slowly.
.radio updates on the sound waves.
.tales of fish tails and sirens.
.tracking numbers and lies.

Refinement

.lets hear the whole story.
.skip that boring part.
.perfect detail.
.refinement can destroy.
.and it can enhance.
.a true art it is.
.speak deliberately.
.mainly not to spit.
.walk with a loose and limber gait.
.keep swimming against the waves.
.the crowd should never be followed.
.almost never.
.my patience is lacking.
.my conclusions are wicked.
.my temper gets riled from time to time.
.usually, I contain.
.absence makes the heart more real.
.even an hour or day.
.something supernatural is happening.
.bread and water and body and blood.
.forgiveness can be asked for.
.and is given.
.the truth lies in what's been done.
.it is the truth for a reason.
.it is true.
.we don't have to save ourselves.
.sweet Jesus!!
.thanks God.

Hog Killing Weather

emamem
amd7

Pick out about five fat ones.
The air is getting cold.
Hog killing weather.
Offer them a handful of corn.
22 between the eyes.
Slice the throat, bleed em out.
Shave the hairs, down to the tail.
Toss the guts aside.
Skin the skin, leak the lard.
Hanging in the trees.
Get some hams, keep the ribs.
The rest is sausage.
If you got the right recipe.
Red pepper, sage, and garlic.
Give the head to the help.
Keep the toungue and some brains for mawmaw.
She went through the Great Depression, ya know.
Bacon is just too much trouble.
Cracklings are a real treat.
Cover up that meat in salt, cure it up.
Rent some freezer space in town.
It's cold out today.
Getting to be hog killing weather.