FALLING TO PIECES TOGETHER

The CLOUD CHAMBER

The murmuring flies,

The croaking crows,

The scoffing horses,

Reflect in the rippling daydreams where

I am a dog

Following a cat

Mewing to a mouse

Hidden in the hay

Where sleeps a boy beneath a book,

Ripe with wonder.

My eyes are torn pages

Worn by the wind devouring

Ashes of my mother cast

Unto the meadow, unveiling

A tiny finger bone, it

Once held me as a baby holding

That finger, I held

That finger bone.

I don’t know why I let it go.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

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But, the most ancient scrolls are kept on: THE TABLE OF MALCONTENTS

 

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I LOVE MY WIFE

The CLOUD CHAMBER

I love my wife
Forever will she be
The treasure of my life
Inspiring me
With no Ambition’s knife
With naught for quantity
Beyond the realm
Of her desire
.
.
My heart does whelm
My inner choir
To spare me silently
All the senseless strife
If alone I be
With self Ambition rife
With only vanity
To steer the helm
So pointlessly
.
.
This all above
I would have said of you
If it were me you love

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THE LOVE OF MY LIFE

The CLOUD CHAMBER

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THE LOVE OF MY LIFE

        I am Shelly.  It is December twenty-fifth, Christmas Day, and it is also will be the first night of Hanukkah, something which has only happened three other times in 100 years.

        My daughter Kaitlyn is driving.  I had asked her to roll down all the windows and turn up the floor heater.

        Kaitlyn protests, “Mom, its warm in the sun.”

        I say, “Yes, dear, but the air is chilly.”

        I love to take drives with the windows down and the floor heater on high.  I feel like I’m in a warm Jacuzzi yet the chill air is invigorating.  My purse and my coat are beside me with the thermos of hot cocoa just the way my father likes it, made with milk not water.

        Kaitlyn is driving me to Fullerton Gardens, an Alzheimer’s residential care facility, “Memory Care”…

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The Apples of My Eyes

The CLOUD CHAMBER

The Apples of My Eyes

 

Passion for others alive doesn’t last

Passion for the dead is eternal

Passion for art or craft is passion for myself

Oldest friends corrode like apples

Fallen from the tree in the garden

So, I’m the tree?

Gnarled and fixed and twisted by desire for something above

Newton saw that tree and saw his law of existence as now do I

Bearing seedless fruit

Bite me, Eve

That wasn’t a hiss

I’m just old and flatulent

How do ya like them apples from the inner man as I still praise my maker

I could be a legless orphan scuttling in a Bombay alleyway

Thank aGod

I can’t be whipsawed by praise or dislike

That would be a job

I have a job

I grow old

Do I dare to eat a Pop-Tart?

Mmmmmm

Take another bite

From the apples of my eyes

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THE CARROT AND THE STICKUP

The CLOUD CHAMBER

  carrot and stickup

THE CARROT AND THE STICKUP

        Bugs Bunny is my hero.  I wish I could say he was my role-model but he is not; he is my exact opposite.  That is why I love him.

        Bugs Bunny is “self-assured, nonchalant, imperturbable, contemplative, plays it cool, but can get hot under the collar.  And above all he’s a very ‘aware’ character.  Well aware that he is appearing in an animated cartoon”.

        Last night after work I was tired.  I was sitting on the couch hunched over my netbook that was set upon my plastic storage bin “coffee table”.  I was working on my first play, entitled The Fourth Wall.  I hit a wall in the plot and I leaned back, lighted up a quick-smoke cigar, clutched the TV remote and found the cable cartoon channel on the big flat screen TV upon the wall.

        A

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THE SILENCE OF SKELLY WEAVER

The CLOUD CHAMBER

SKELLY WEAVER 1 - andrew salgado 4[3] - resized 1

 

THE SILENCE OF SKELLY WEAVER

the bethlem psychiatric hospital is located in southhampton england

a psychiatrist walks with a hesitant woman in a black dress and a scarf and dark glasses

they are both flanked by muscular orderlies

the psychiatrist is soothing the woman with his words saying

we are so grateful that you decided to come back

you are the only one to whom he responds

he is in a most unusual state of dissociation

he resembles an extreme autistic mode

he will not speak nor will he respond to our words

you can see he just sits there and types on the word processor which we gave him

we are recording his objective histories shall we call them

he is aware of his surroundings but in a dissociative third person objective dare I say godlike awareness as evidenced by his furious writing

there is no first person…

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THE STOLEN KISSES OF PEPO PUMM

The CLOUD CHAMBER

pepo 2 - BoyAndGirlKissing--1-5------ CROP 1, SIZE 2

THE STOLEN KISSES OF PEPO PUMM

        This is the sound of two hands clapping off the dust.  I’m done.  I’m done thinking about her.  I have abraded my pride for years now.  I have abraded my pride to the quick.  No more.  I can’t take it anymore.  It ends.

        Grow up!  Grow the fuck up!  Grow up or just blow your brains out.  You are useless this way

        But what can I do?  Drugs?  Alcohol?  What would be the point of anesthesia?

        You might as well end it.  You’re done.

        I’m going to feel this way forever, aren’t I?

        Your kind of love is a heart cancer.

        My heart is the size of a pumpkin!  A Jerk-O-Lantern.  A Jack-Off-O-Lantern!  With a hole carved out of it in the shape of us together.

#

        “Oh, no, no!” pleaded little Pepo Pumm as his…

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