Today it was so Whitmanesque to walk the familiar route to
the Red Apple. The Mexican food trailer sitting on the corner by The Station coffee
shop which was just opening at 7 o’clock. I came across two men who walked their
dogs and a pile of beer cans with discarded food cartons. The Community Center El
Centro de la Raza, formerly a neighborhood elementary school that looms Gothically,
making one think that in this quiet neighborhood, a sleepy underdeveloped enclave
a stone’s throw to downtown Seattle and to
Chinatown, that there may be hidden dragons and crouching tigers or dungeons where
they chain vixens for forcible sex. Whitman never have imagined this when he was
writing in New York that depravity could spread this far. This is Seattle man. Even
here the cops shoot to kill the mentally ill.
Monday, August 12, 2013
poem
A Mirage People make monuments out of clay. In idleness, I study the sky. Dark clouds portend rain. The history of clouds is the history o...
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Sometimes we lose track of who we are,and say, hey, how did I get here? We then recall things and ideas we done and toyed with but they all ...
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Checkmate! Russian Chess for China. China purchase of Russian Missiles
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Chrysanthemum micro-editions will feature micro-fiction, short verse, and short-short prose pieces of any style or subject. It is going t...
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