"It's about words, and words are all I have…"



You couldn’t find a normal girl if you fell

over one   I said     Later in the conversation

he repeated this sentence verbatim   We were

on the same page   He wasn’t hurt   more bemused

Knowing too  that as his oldest friend my words have

traction   gravitas    fidelity


I am sitting by a fountain watching a couple of ducks

one with an emerald neck & orange feet   the other quite

ordinary   They kind of flop into the fountain   It’s not a

dive   & it’s not a jump   It’s almost unintentional    One

moment looking at the water   the next  in the water


So are we puppets of some other force that is driving us?

Or do we drive ourselves?   My friend would say: You make

plans  & the Puppet Master  laughs    He  who always ends up

with fire-eating  Go Go dancers   slim androgynes     This makes

him pretty interesting   But to this he responds: If I am so interesting    

what am I doing here?


This is understandable    His Bedouin parents circumnavigated

the Gobi until he was 9   then made a bee-line  for civilization

He knows better than most  that normal festers   & that the

Puppet Master is in fact one : Robert Zimmerman


A freak gust just tossed my statistics on pedophile priests into

the fountain where they will float amidst the detritus of winter

for all eternity



Oh hear this Robert Zimmerman
I wrote a song for you
About a strange young man 
called Dylan
With a voice like sand and glue
His words of truthful vengeance
They could pin us to the floor
Brought a few more people on
And put the fear in a whole lot more

(David Bowie    Song For Bob Dylan)



bob dylan




SPRING   2014  




Single Post Navigation

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: