BLUE SKY HOLDS THE PALE MOON HIGH

The CLOUD CHAMBER

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I plucked the poem once growing here

Yesterday, when you were near

In my eye and in my ear

Or was it really years ago?

It feels the same so I don’t know

Blue sky holds the pale moon high

~

When morning stretches overhead

I remember all you said

And all the words of yours I read

I am glad I knew you when

Our souls were young and searching then

Blue sky holds the pale moon high

~

So now I’ll go about my day

Saying things I have to say

With no meaning anyway

Except of you once in a while

To know I lived once in your smile

Blue sky holds the pale moon high

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THAT I AM

That I am
That You are
That Death is
More real than God
To Me

(Oh, no
Not again)

I Whistle
I Sing
I Eat candy
I Smell flowers

I Cry

Not To Be
But To Be
Not enough
No more
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SCRABBLE THE MUDDY COBBLES

The CLOUD CHAMBER

1 ARTHUR BLEWITT
Wind and Cloud and Ice
And Man who is the Fire
Claim the mountain top


Cock’s pride chortles forth
Dawning on humble mice
Cobwebs encompass windows
In gray doors peeling red
Unopened

Morning ragtime worm
Cut cut orchard
Hot thick apples
Leaning trees
Amber apples
Savage love bites
Pollen weary bees

My head clock really buzzed
Wanting that gin whack
Suddenly sucking back
Lonesome blood
I asked love
To end me

Dark shore beckoning
Across brandy dreams
Desire whispers
In craters of anguish
Lanterns flicker
In abandoned white ships

Midnight deeds aroused the cherubs
Burdens churned unspoken sleep
My echoes forgot
Daytime devils dream my soul

Old bones restrain
False needs of love
Lords of vanity beckon
Deeds into stone
Ignorance proud within
Bonds old bones

Speech crashes my throat
Sober acid words
Guide my love up
Out the hot…

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BAFFLEGAB

The CLOUD CHAMBER

mfc_turkey - resize 1

BAFFLEGAB

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        Bafflegab was a young turkey.

        Bafflegab was one of a new breed that was being spoken of in whispers as “The Young Turks”. His dark barred plumage bore an iridescent bronze-green shine. His tail feathers were tipped in a rusty red.

        Bafflegab had three companions: Jabbercocky and Poppycock who were, like him, jakes, young males, and Twaddle who was called a jenny, a young female.

        Bafflegab perched on the fence that surrounded Grimpils Farm and he addressed the assembled rafter of his brethren birds. The Grimpils Farm turkeys were domesticated and timid and captive and predominantly bred to be white (so that any small residue feathers would not offend the Consumer).

        Bafflegab was saying, “Let’s talk turkey. We got our name ‘Turkey’ by mistake. The wild ‘Guinea Fowl’ of Africa was exported from Madagascar through Turkey by Portuguese traders, who gave…

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THE GRIMPILS FARM

The CLOUD CHAMBER

THE GRIMPILS FARM

          A coyote is walking up the road from the city to the country.  On the back of the coyote is a crow.  On the back of the crow is a cockroach.  The three of them are friends from the city.  They are traveling up to the Grimpils farm for Giving Thanks Day.

A few hours pass and the three companions find themselves admiring the countryside.  A turkey meets them in the road.

The turkey says, “I am Snood.”

The coyote says, “I am Moontalker.”

The crow on Moontalker’s back says, “I am Caucus.”

The cockroach on Caucus’s back says, “I am Scurry.”

Snood the turkey says, “I will guide you from here.  Welcome to the Grimpils farm.”

Moontalker the coyote replies with a suave voice, saying, “Happy Giving Thanks Day.”

Caucus the crow replies with a rattling voice, saying, “Yaw, yaw.  Say, Snood, will there be…

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TWYLA BELLEGRAVE

The CLOUD CHAMBER

twyla 3-size 1 - crop2 - COLOR1

 TWYLA BELLEGRAVE

        Once upon a midnight bleary as I sat tap tapping on my computer keys there came a sighing, gently prying from my heart, a sorrow for my unobtainable love, signifying, “Katylyn, I never stop thinking of you.”

        I stopped tapping on my computer keys, stopped my semaphore sadness for the key to her love, untouchable evermore.

        I sighed, again for my eternity’s end, for, “The moon outlasts all love,” as I stared into midnight,  reflecting a pale and immaterial purpose in the window.

        The full moon had arisen in majestic luminance, the stars parting.  I recalled Katylyn’s amused observation from our Paris balcony that the same moon is seen by others beyond our horizon.  I don’t know why I should remember that except that Katylyn had gone beyond my horizon like the memory of sunlight.

        My hope was that the sun also…

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THE DEVOURED HEART

The CLOUD CHAMBER

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THE DEVOURED HEART

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        It was nearly midnight as I hiked up the trail into Coyote Hills.

        It was going to be October 16th, my mother’s birthday had she still been alive.

        During my climb I stepped aside for only one traveler, a whirring night-bicyclist, her bright light beaming as if she were a falling star descending past me.

        A fog had begun to engulf the lower Coyote Hills.

        The fog luminescent in the moonlight, the peaks of the higher hills still visible darkly, the stars sparking above, I arrived at the crest of the trail where the great Weeping Willow tree spread.

        The great Weeping Willow was often a campsite for homeless people but I never saw the same person there twice. Or ever again. This night there was no one; only the debris of previous habitation.

        I stood beneath the great…

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