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| Was a man once: burned out, grimaced in white knuckles and perfect nails, an emptied jubilee, a failed suicide, a pock marked soul in ash blue ensemble. All for a speck on a x-ray missed by the passing eye like a haystack from twenty nine thousand feet. A tiny black hole that slowly burned its way through his bones; ratcheting him downward one vertebrae at a time and pulling you down as well... read the rest |
My sister was seven when she first had the idea that she could walk on water. She practiced on mud puddles in tinker bell shoes - pulling her skirt up, stretching her neck out and angling her head down to get a better view. "Hmm, I can't tell. What do you think? "I can't tell either, maybe we need a deeper puddle." "What do you mean we, I don't see you doing anything." Then she pushed me down and walked away in search of some other... read the rest |
I'm squatting down down down and crapping in ditch water ankle deep while Sunday morning grandmas, making for early church meetings, peek out their passing window seat and see me half way done in the gray dawn early light. "Oh my goodness gracious." In Midwest sweet, looking again in disbelief, "oh my goodness gracious" now imprinted on the brain with such design it's shoved from the mind with forced thoughts of blue birds and rhubarb pie... read the rest |
My Beautiful Blue Plastic Hammer
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| read a brand new "My Beautiful Blue Plastic Hammer" @ picassobriefcase.com click here |
"My
Beautiful Blue Plastic Hammer"
a column written by m for CAKE Magazine back in 95/96 - acid
reflux meets garlic man. Clicking the magazine cover above will lead
you to the corresponding column. It's your life.
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copyright 1995
- 2009 by michael mcdaeth