six framed items hung on the wall

three were certificatesvirtually the same size he supposed certificates were standard-sized

the one in the middle was handmade and deftlyminutely embellished with paint

right of the three certificates were first a black-and-white photograph of an aeroplane a small private propeller craft  then a coloured cartoon he paid no attention to  its caricatures cleverthough not funny and lastly a militaristic Nationalist poster a brusque helmeted soldier carrying a rifle by its strap over his shoulder faced right  he was exercised and marched before a backdrop of unfurled flagsred and white stripedwhite stars on a blue field static though undulating  featured to either side of the soldier and looking like wings asif he were an angel

                                                                                                   very patriotic  propagrandistic  Colour Me Comrade

what is also patriotic is not taking the bait not enlisting not convinced that actions soldiers are ordered to perform are for the defense of the nation but rather imperialistic armed solicitation 6 November 2001 You’re either with US, or you’re against US . . Bush famously said  anwhile he knew the president and Cheney and Rumsfeld were desperately wrong had cooked the books masturbated vigourously lubed with blood  touted terrorism torture Abu Graib a huge butthurt majority of Americans bought in hook line and sinker 

                                                        an International Intelligence and Interpol matter gutted  its flames fanned furiously for war

                          he never saw the smarts of becoming Government-Issued or following ordersgagged unable to challenge or question the reasons why

                                         to throw himself over and acquiesce

each of the frames hung awkwardly not in a line not spaces asif hung by a drunkard or someone careless just to hang them kinda like lynchings although each right corner was higher than its left they leaned on the wall

                                                                                                           perhaps the first hung was the template that set the illhangings in motion the hanger didnt step awaystep back and see their mistakes

but six in a row inside seven feet of wall the imbalance was unmistakably

the hanger must not have cared

the six frames hanging uncorrected was like having illmannered children who werent cracked on the ass to straighten them out

          so they did as they pleased

so much for discipline

2234,  Saturday, Pi-Day,  14  3. 20

1311,  Sunday,  6  9. 20

6 November 2001  https://edition.cnn.com/2001/US/11/06/gen.attack.on.terror/

                        

he had countless fond memories however when he closed his eyes and listened he heard his Maws humour her laughter

he remembered her happy scoldings tongue-in-cheek admonishing him often how terrible he was which by her accusation meant she was on fully onboard fully cognizant of the scenarios he painted for her

                                                                                                   but what he happily remembered were the nights while he was a teenager when it was bedtime  he and his parents climbed the stairs at the old house to sleep

                        shortly  from behind his parents closed bedroom door he could hear the muffled murmur of their conversations -- which was always a comfort -- then suddenly they were interruptednot unexpectedly by a sharp barkthe sound of his mothers laughter.

when it subsidedbut for a moment hed hear his father murmur something then hed erupt in his own laughter Maw never answered him she laughed in reply and laughing over his father shed go off the deepend long sustained laughter -- he could almost see her wiping tears from her cheeks with her hands -- her laughter would continue unabatednearly breathless as did his fathers

it was a happy happy chorus to listen to Hell hed laugh as he listened to them through the wall

he never did learn what they were laughing about -- it wasnt important -- but what will colour his memoriesalways  is her laughter their laughter

simply  it is music

0809,  Friday,  13  3. 20

1040,  Sunday,  6  9. 20

Say it ain’t so, Joe, please say it ain’t so . . .

                                               he triedhe tried to lie

                                                                       tried to let himself off the hookslip his hurt defy the anguish that unmercifully rend his heart

which he had been enduring

                               

he couldnt lie

hed cut his throat with his fathers straight razor before denying witness

the music caught him unsuspecting as music often can

                                                           out of some quarter playing a jukebox out of the speaker of a passing car from out of a house or apartment window as someone inside sang offkey

Murray Head

               Say it ain’t so, Joe . . .

                                        he was walking the song arrested him his hand fell from the strap of the canvas bag he carried over his shoulder

his strength went out of it he felt his bones wanting to go out come undone so hed slouch like a scarecrow and birds could take pieces of him and make nests make him feel useful like he could do something right again if nothing more than serving as fodder

                        though his legs denied himthey wouldnt fold
they resisted a gravity he exacerbatedweighing him down

Say it aint so, Joe  they sang

he wished he could

he wished terribly that he could

                                  lie

he wished he could

                   wished he could have saved her life

a wish he made

                  that Death would take him rather than his daughter

but she was a prize why would it  Death is greedy

                                                        it wasnt like he was an apple for apple

It laughed cruelly in its throat  a part of its panoply 

                                                       as was there is no enticing it

It had exactly what it came for

It wouldnt let go

he saw that

            terribly she saw that too

she knew better than he

her eyes smiled through her tears

                                    asif to say It’s alright; it’s alright, Dad. to comfort him

comfort wouldnt be his for a long time

a car passed closeby as he stood unflinching at the curb to cross a street his body swayed sullenly in its draft but his spine cinched it tightened his legs threatening it

2343,  Friday,  6  3. 20

1635,  Saturday,  5  9. 20

Murray Head  Say it Ain’t So  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IT5cqphuqoU

Free  Wishing Well  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LLSAGnHNqGc

today was his mothers wake

he wasnt going to make it

she would understand

thats all that mattered

he wrote a piece that his brother was supposed to read on his behalf

his brother wasnt able to complete ithe couldnt contain himself
                                                                  so his wife read it

he would have preferred another sibling had but they didnt think of that
                                                                             so instead a woman whod only known his mother three years spoke for him

he was her eldest child                                 

his siblings had better been grateful he didnt show

he made a commitment months prior

he was a man of his word
                            his mother knew of it she was a woman of her word

his word was ironclad
                        unrelenting

once he set his mind nothingNOTHING  could make him revise it

there is comfort in that
                         it comforted him that he wasnt able to make her wake or funereal

a discomfort too
                 some family relatives friends took his absence to mean something other asif they had their finger on the pulse of his relationship with his parents

                                           his not attending undermining him  asif it said something he never thought or said and somehow also related to the carte blanche others helped themselves to and believedtripping over each other to confide in him  thinking he held them in confidence

he did not
            nor did he betray the confidences summarily dumped in his lap

when guns were swung in his direction accusations were made he abruptly reminded them he made no solicitations they divulged what they had of their own free will

as he upheld commitments he made he also held their confidence

If you prefer  if you doubt   dont talk to me again

ironclad

2257,  Friday,  13  3. 20

1523,  Saturday,  5  9. 20

he could hear the hawk cry but he struggled to determine from where  

after twenty minuteswatching smaller birds avoiding it his best guess was a date palm somewhere up in its crown

he or she was agitated cried once or twice a minute

a date palm not where he was from he enjoyed fig trees and their fruit took walks at lunch pilfered the neighbourhood figs then walked down to the creek that ran through the heart of the town at the Missions feet where aged figs grew and helped himself to them
                         people glared he didnt let glares agitate himtheir agitation he was too busy enjoying picking and eating fresh figs

twentythirty minutes of bawling the hawk fell out of the date like a stonespread it wings and veered onehundredeighty degreesgliding up into sunlitblue sky his or her effortlessness and beauty stunned him always did

he had an innate attachment to hawks  fellow earthlings

anhe  terribly feeble if he were to make a comparison

as the hawk climbed a pair of hummingbirds entered the vacated space the crowns of the palm and cypress that stood guard to either side of it

                          tenants play when the landlord leaves

he wondered if he had recorded the hawks cries and played them if the hummers would know he was fucking around with them

             amusing himself he mimicked its cry               

Nada

       they probably amused themselves Stupid human he didnt think theyd be gauche and muse him an asshole

thats called entertainmenthe called it entertaining and free if one was willing to spend time

he pushed back against the thought of changing the hummingbirds into hawks Abracadabra 

                                                                                                  or Drizzle drazzle drazzle drone  Mr Wizard  Abracadabra was more wistfulmagical and since neither was his tongue he supposed he could pray maybe that would get Gawds attention Who prayed for transformations  Could be an interesting gambit  otherwise where did the unicorn or platypus come from 

he wasnt praying

his parents prayed hed accept God



that didnt work


the hawk a speck disappeared behind a ridge that consumed the view south

1538,  Monday,  9  3. 20

1359.  Saturday,  5  9. 20

Tooter Turtle  Moon Goon (Space Head)  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nCDDg6ctVaM

there were two nonfictions a scifi three National Geographics four commierags and a partridge in a pear tree on his motel room table

his friend called the magazines commierags

                                               he would he was apolitical

he told him Being apolitical is like being asexual

Ouch. he replied humoured You trying to hurt my feelings?

No Im trying to pique or disturb some semblance of insult disgust or outrage given our political climate

You ought to settle on one of the three. A scattergun works on birds, not big game; I’m big game.

Big game Nahnot so much You treat politics as a game asif you arent invested  though you are and noninvolvement hurts your investments

                         Be it politics or sex

Ohno, I’m invested in sex. I buy a couple girlie magazines, maybe three, each and every month.

Dates

Dates?

        For the price of one date I could afford several mags and probably a couple skin flicks that would last me for months.

You forgot Kleenex

Fuck Kleenex, I use a sock.

he was such a spendthrift 

                             women hadnt inspired or excited him in a long time

he felt that was because his friend never sought the right womandidnt seek a woman who would be a complement to him he always sought to compliment them

invariably they lead him around by his nose

far more often than by his cock

2147,  Sunday,  8  3. 20

1318,  Reggae Friday,  4  9. 20

$188K -- killed

the coward-in-chief

                    https://www.msnbc.com/the-reidout/watch/-what-is-wrong-with-you-malcolm-nance-blasts-trump-for-insulting-fallen-service-members-91158597912

“suckers” “losers”

                        theres no money in it

2151,  Reggae Friday,  4  9. 20

https://www.msnbc.com/rachel-maddow/watch/multiple-news-outlets-mirror-report-of-trump-denigrating-veterans-91166789918

Dadu! she yelled from in the kitchen to him in the hall where his granddaughters caught him coming out of the spare bedroom Care for a cup of coffee now, or did you want to wait a bit?

Cawwfee he yelled back Thank you

                                        An you two knuckleheads the way youre acting I might think youve had too much caffeine

Grandpoo! they chorused

Too early in the morning girls Ive told you if youre going to call me that Ill shut you downignore you

Grandpoo!

he parted them a hand to their chest and gently pressed them to the walls

                                                                               Excuse me ignoramuses

they tried to grab his arms to hold him but he slipped them and under a hail of Grandpoo Grandpoo Grandpoo at his back he went up the hall into diningroom where through the pass-through he could see his daughter drying a coffee cup to fill it for him

Good morning love

she smiled widely her dimples deep  her mothers dimples   he could only wish he had dimples

                                                                                                       Good morning, Dad, sleep well, dream?

Yes Yes Yourself  Sleep well and dream

Yes. Yes. I’ll pour your coffee and we can sit and talk, share our dreams.

Good Then Ill take it you had pleasant dreamsbeen a bit

Yes. It has been a bit. A wonderful dream. I dreamt of Mom.

seventeen years later Mom made his throat tightentears work into his eyes he wiped them quickly his daughter didnt see

     How fortunate are you Did you recognise her right off

when he dreamed of his wife she came to him as a different woman rarely herself a different woman who had her hazel eyes which belied her as theyd speak

Yes, right off. I was walking Spirit and she waved to me, hailed me, and crossed the pasture toward me. I walked towards her and we embraced and kissed. I held Spirit’s reins and we walked him hand in hand.

she set his black coffee on the table before where he sat set her cup down pulled out the chair and sat

Spirit and Mom In the country It cant get any better than thatcan it

she smiled huge

                  I’d have to think but I don’t think so . . maybe if you were there too.

In a dream as rare as Mom visits me unlikely

Maybe. Though I appreciate your unlikely to an absolute like never.

Boom A philosophical morning begins

                                         But before I forget he reached over and took her hand I love you 

I love you.

he leaned towards her she met him halfway they kissed once  they kissed a second time

they sat back

Black coffee and kisses Cant think of a better way to start my morning

Me neither.

the cup she filled for himwashed for him was his favourite of her coffee cups it was decorated with a replica of a Joan Miro canvas

              he preferred the Miro to the various Van Goghs she had  it spoke to him

it was very much like his daughter her gentle thoughtful generous nature which she readily extended to him

Thank you for serving me Miros cup

she blinked and smiled

                         it seemed he surprised her that he noticed every time

You’re welcome, Dadu. she loved teasing him with her new moniker she had addressed a letter and either in her haste or distracted by the girls she wrote Dadu rather than Dad and seeing her error she sent it anyway

You certainly are observant, have an eye for detail.

Actually love thats rather an eye for beauty An how graced I am this morning to be able to have coffee with my beautiful daughter

Awshucks, golly geewhiz. Am I blushing? she laughed deeply

MyGawd he thought Ill never get enough of her laugh  he laughed with her

1737,  Sunday,  8  3. 20

1204,  Reggae Friday,  4  9. 20

when he could finally lift his eyes off her beautiful face

                                                          her triumphant smile had slipped her colour draining and grey

over the top of her head he looked into her backyard her roses her wisteria breaking into bloom and fragrance her grapevines flourishing

                        anhe witnessed an abrupt winda sigh shake the plants  anfrom a dandelion a whitetopped woven seed shook free anrose into the air rose into the sky  climbing

he climbed on top of it

he wanted to be high

                       to look down on the world that was suddenly  empty    her lifeforce escaped 

                                                                                                           anhe rose high into the blue sky an found that he wasnt looking down into the neighbourhood where she died

                                                                                                he floated over the green pond that was a block over from the quadruplex they lived in in Minnesota when she was a little girl

                                                                                                         where he defied the posted sign No Swimming anhad her hold onto his trapeze as he breaststroked anchased dragonflies an tadpoles an the occasional big fish that rose near its center far from where people couldnt possibly cast

                                                                                            anhe saw her with a crooked stick in her hand he snapped off a fallen limb an tied a string to an fixed a hook on an baited with a split earthworm they dug up an watched as she cried proudly Daddy! I caught fish! anhe freed the small perch or bluegill an had her hold it an tell it Go get your bigger brother or sister to come for me to catch . . anhe made her kiss it goodbye which she did because he told her They were so kind to play with you, don’t you think they deserve a kiss goodbye? You might not ever see them again. They may swim down down down past the Frog Prince’s castle who on occasion has come to our front door to pursue you to the hole in the bottom of the pond that connects to a winding tunnel that lets them swim free to the other ponds and lakes around us.

up up up down down down  deep inside himself he sought comfort with memories

his baby girl had just died

1439,  Sunday,  23  2. 20

1449,  Thursday,  3  9. 20

she left with more than she could possibly carry comfortably
                                                                but he knew she could withstand discomfort
she withstood pain that sheas he aligned with discomfort Discomfort, Dadu, nothing more. it poignantly reminded them they were alive

One has to choose to suffer, don’t you think? Why would I do that?
                                                                       he nodded preachin to the choir

yet she would patiently suffer the ignorance of others if she believed she could enlighten themmake a difference

anhed have to admit his surprise how often she succeeded

she was a velvet glove 

he was brass knuckles

Girl ya got the patience of a saint

it was upon that gracious extraordinary patience she fell when she enlisted him and her husband and her sister to caretake her through the end of her life
                                          through the excruciating drip drip dripthe loss of her voice loss of her motor skills the drip drip dripdecline that accompanies dying slowly that ALS devised

her death certificate alluded to her ALS as the cause of death
                                                                 but they her caretakers knew she triumphed and lorded over her illness

her huge smile at her death confirmed it

0805,  Day-between-Two-Ts,  4  3. 20

1356,  Thursday,  3  9. 20

Doors  Crawling King Snake  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K5cwmZxW0Jc

https://www.msnbc.com/the-reidout/watch/joy-trump-runs-on-law-and-order-but-he-breaks-the-law-because-he-does-not-care-for-it-91104325544 

                               when a cunt is a cunt is a cunt

tell him I said so

                   Id love to meet his fat ass on a common street alone

1751,  Thursday,  3  9. 20

he stepped in front of a buddy heading into the tavern from out of the alley

                                                                               Man yamight wanna not go in just yet  mebbe give it tenfifteen go around to the front look in through the window see ifa cat in a plaid shirts still sittin at the bar Youll wanna wait him out

Hes cryin in everybodys soup

Nobodys gettin a pass

The manll stalk ya

Hes buyin drinks

Ya drink

Yer doomed

Youll wanna shoot yerself

Whassup with him?

Hes upset

Whas upsettin him?

Letters  Letters he wrote home

Letters home?

Yah His maw died  She had kept all his letter since he moved out of his parents house Forty years of letters see

Forty years. There couldn’t have been ma . . 

. . Many Cat told me he wrote fourfive letters a week home and to other family  Imagine

Forty years?

Yah  He was in there scribblin a letter at the bar when I sat down beside him I asked Whoya writin man

Cat was writin his nephewya ever written your nephew

Nah. I don’t write a soul.

See  Hes in there writin and drinkin whisky an beer Bought me three rounds 

He bought your time.

He did  he nodded

they flinched as a couple of toms tossed some garbage pails getting at each other had to be some punany around or maybe territory

Fuckin cats.

              So what's with this cat, his dead maw?

She kept his letters His old man burned em

They were her letters, not his.

Yah I thought too Turns out his old man couldnt read his handwriting so his old lady read him the letters his son wrote him

He ditched hers and his see

Forty years?

Forty years Anhe said the letters were usually tenfifteen pagesfront an back

Fuck, man, cat had a lot to say.

Yah

      He said he could rationalize why his old man did itthough he thought he might have offered them to him before he burned em

I could see that.

Yah Me too

              Then he said it reminded him of his first girlfriend all the letterslove letters he wrote her When they split her new boyfriend was jealous of em wanted her to toss em

She resisted

One day the boyfriend went into her place when she was out took em all anburned them in the yard with some goofy carnival toys hed also won for her that she picked out

He burned up their memories

What a prick.

Yah Not gonna be a long relationship

She called him antold him all his letters were burned up

He asked why she didnt just give them back if he was threatening em Imagine how fuckin insecure  Threatened by old love letters  Written before he was ever around see

Jesus. So these guys burned up . . his memories.

Pretty fuckin cruel

                    But thats wha we excel athuh

Yeah. Wanna have at drink at Johnny’s up the streetI’ll buy ya onekeep your streak alive anless costly to your psyche

Me anmy psyche thank you  Yah

0850,  Thursday,  3  9. 20

Joe Cocker  The Letter  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LlX5IWwizGg