MY OFFERING FOR 'NATIONAL CREATIVITY DAY'
The Dream ...... The Dreamer
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The Last Attempt at Emotional Correspondence........To No Reply....over two decades ago......from a draft of a letter sent to someone, emotionally armored and incapable/unwilling to express, with words or images, either their thoughts or feelings......of innocence, or experience....regarding their 'loss'......and my own.......
i was just watching the "dance" scene from a film adaptation of a 19th C. Jane Austin novel. ....... the conversation, both polite and telling...... direct, yet distant.... another time, in which i would be more comfortable....... and you, i think.... i am such an obsolete device of nature...... and, frustrated, cast aspersions to the deaf and the blind, who, diverted by simpler conceits, beg the answers in the questions....... fallal reason insuring the needed delusions.... i have lost your parents.....soon, they will be quite distant..... must life be such a catered affair, with each guest bringing the old, dead arrangements from ancient parties? sigh! i hope that you and i do not drift apart, as we have not yet established a foundation that would support the types of relationship that either of us would prefer......a tip of the hat is for passerbys on the boulevards of civilized society......i prefer a telling glance, forever renewed by change of course and the redi...
And don't ya be bitchin' bout the fews and two, when they's holes in dem pockets and the snow's done wasted down yo gams.....Git dem glasses on and a pigeon with a can to hold that stuff! This ain't some Universal Moment, you mitt-pounding ass-lick....just old talk what done made yo grandpa a cool dude afore he work on the line 40 years till his Social Security Benefits and TV watching times....
Trilly to truck off to cups after a killer-diller day of muggin' 'n' frisking my whiskers, I'm sure my pink rug cutters be slidin' they jibs to some solid skins to dat square hide-beating dork what's evah nosed in a book, supposin' he's fausting some mellow high yellow queen 'n' maybe done already tossed her fat ass in the clambake with dem gutbucket rappers, posing in big-leg poly pants, like they hard gate hicks just off the cob...Well, for my meter, dis rif ain't playin' cepting some rolls between them lily whites, latched down on dat stinky feather bed....but, copping attitude while too whipped up, I's likely to jus git togged to the bricks for some sweet gravy, like this jivetalk is main kick dime note material....Yeah, sure!...All my Jack friends be salting my tail, ridin' my jib slides......Latch on or break it up ya thumbing hide-beaters, I'm gonna lay some line over that bongo riffing and trip up to the Land O' Da...