brewers baseball and things

dear wind:
did i tell you how grateful i am that you exist?
to blow this mood of mine away.
can you do that wind?
can you penetrate my pores?
maybe a soft, refreshing breeze on this hot, humid, sunny day,
not to be greedy, but can you dear wave of wind begin when i’m under a tree, in the shade?
or screw it because
i love your un...

if i had the courage spirit i’d compare notes with the angel and the raccoon shadows under his eyes and i’d seek out the reflexologist preaching the messiah is within and i’d learn how to love the saxophone and charlie parker and be with the “in’ crowd who understood that wailing on the sax, that sound like smoke rising…. spraying all over the room like air let out of a ballo...

i never felt moved by a painting like a Rembrandt, maybe Dali because he got me thinking but like a landscape or a portrait….nope. i never feel a damn thing other than that i know i could never do that and i never got into the theater or nature like knowing all the flowers or bugs or animals or moon phases or stars but there is a baseball broadcast that i listen to again as i...

i’m doing one of my walks through newly named martin luther king park….renovated soccer fields with no one playing soccer, old baseball diamonds whose outfields in winter also serve as hockey rinks, a full swimming pool of water and kids, a playground and then i exit the park and i’m on the street and there’s a dark lady still in the park, just across the street and really be...

ok, this is going to require firecrackers and clarinets and bus brakes and bird chirps and bear roars and ducks quaking and political orations and poetry readings and all the sounds in the world at the same time, all merged together and into our ears and the note so soothing it jars open all our memories of all time all the way back to the stories our fathers and mothers told...