Saturday, December 3, 2016

Morning Radio: Dirty

Weekend.

Motions all weekend long.

To suppress, to dismiss, to continue.

To compel, to discover, to vacate.

Balance was not part of the bargain.

It's crawling through the mud on each and every file.

With your boots on.

Through the slush.

Each step gets heavier, each step gets slower.

As each step gathers the sludge.

You look down:

Dirty Boots.


Friday, December 2, 2016

Morning Radio: Stormy

Friday.

On point.

Deep breathing.

Concentrating.

Chimes outside singing their own song.

Then wind.

Then rain.

Then another layer of wind.

Sheets of rain now.

They come together in unison.

All forces of nature growling at you outside your window.

Snarling.

Barking.

That's stormy weather.





Thursday, December 1, 2016

Morning Radio: Windy

Thursday.

On point.

The horizon is moving.

Always.

Lighted by different colors.

Different hues.

Effervescent.

Ever present.

There is a light gush.

And then a gale.

And then calm.

The wind stands back momentarily and watches and waits.

Gathering itself for another attack.

Windy with You.


Wednesday, November 30, 2016

Morning Radio: Dusty

Wednesday.

On point.

The crystals on my windshield melt quickly.

Driving with the defroster blasting.

Blocking out the song.

You turn it up.

It's blaring now.

I turn the wheel.

Down our street.

You glance over, turn the music down, and ask:  How's the trial going?

I say: Nothing has been proved.

You smile and turn the music up loud.


Tuesday, November 29, 2016

Morning Radio: Muddy

Tuesday.

On point.

The sharpness of the cold.

Biting.

Dark so soon.

Dark so dark.

I look up in the bleachers.

I think I can see you.

I squint.

That must be you.

But there are faces in front of you.

And all around you.

Moving.  Up and down.  Sideways too.

Their arms extended upward.

Blocking my view.

Their arms waving.

Hands clapping.

That must be you.

That must be you.

Nobody else looks the way you do.

Is that you?

Is that you?


Monday, November 28, 2016

Morning Radio: Sonny

Monday.

On point.

There are rules I follow.

There are laws I hold dear.

This is one.

The one spoken about in this song.

A song about an agreement between two.

In an age of openness, an agreement about privacy.

The way the agreement roars from his mouth.

As a law.

As a rule.

Seeking a sign from his loved one.

Will you please agree with me?

What Jimi Hendrix did to the guitar, well Sonny does to the harmonica.

Brilliant.




Thursday, November 24, 2016

Morning Radio: Americano

Thursday.

Off.

Walking in Amsterdam.

The fragrance was divine.

You shopping for your best friend back home.

Little pastries.

With real espresso.

Single servings in a small cup.

You in a long summer dress.

And a wide brimmed straw hat.

They all thought you were one of them.

They spoke Dutch to you and looked wide-eyed when you told them, "No, Americano."

Why you put an "o" at the end of "American" made us giggle.

Back in our room.

The fragrance was divine.

Me and my music magazines.

You with your heart.

And your hat.

Front row for the Kitchens of Distinction.

Front row for Morrissey.

Front row for Miles Davis.

Front row for this one too.