Monday, December 26, 2016
Stalking Rest
I chose an aerial view of a flanking
neighborhood, mostly because of
the Suicide’s Cottage in its little cove.
Hallmark card with a twist. Anyway,
a local legend.
Fine, except she continuously walked
into the water, white flowing nightgown,
billows.
Through my programs at times.
To purge this ghost, I changed to snow and
solid New England spires.
There, she stepped through drifts white as
her nightgown. Absurd.
No use, then, regardless of wallpaper.
Finally, though, still tried sombre abstraction.
Yet, In front of pillows of rusts and browns
she wades in and whitely breasts the first
black wave consisting of felt bolsters.
Turn off computer, go for a walk…to get there.
The cutting wind sweeps away the last remnants
of storm-smell.
Stride into the woods to discover ample brush .
To fashion a wreath.
Place it on the rise and fall of black-gray Lampey’s Cove.
Say nothing, just watch, and can’t feel my fingers.
Much noise re-entering house, since the computer has turned itself on to Western brilliance.
Dashing rivers, red rocks, and cottonwoods.
Some fluff actually blows round the den.
Square dance calls and whoops! I tap the
speaker icon to mute the horrible distortion.
Labels: computer, computer ghosts, ghost, suicide, wallpaper
Saturday, September 17, 2016
Conversation, not ordinary
-Then you're a...ghost, then?
-Yes.
-Haunt?
-Nothing like. I stayed because I
like it here.
-What's my role in connection to...?
-Not a thing. Oh would be nice if on
your walk you said “Look at that!
Isn't it pretty?”
-As to, like, sunset?
-Right! I've seen millions and they're
still pretty.
-Are...others around. Other Ghosts?
-Scores! But you see only me.
-Forever?
-One day you won't.
-Why is that?
-You'll die.
-Join your ranks?
-If wished. Only then.
-Some want nothing? Less?
-You’re making your mind up
about that every day.
-Too heavy for me. Let’s stick
with sunsets.
-Up to you.
Labels: conversation with ghost, ghost, hereafter, sunset, values
Friday, May 01, 2015
Dialog By Northern Water
-You were giving me the history of the cannery.
-Not much left up there. When everything got
so fished out, Mom and Dad sold the prefab
buildings to the Japanese.
-So, just that warehouse thing remains.
-Yes, and in good shape. Last year the Norwegians
bought the machinery. That's my retirement, and
when Social Security kicks in, off to Florida...
well, one thing holds me here.
-Which is?
-Back up a bit to right after the Norwegians
loaded their trucks. I walked through the
hulk once a week, checking to see if any
critters broke in etc. All fine, except six
months ago?
-Momma and Papa Bear?
-A man.
-Squatter? Off with him!
-We looked at each other, and formed an
understanding. He'd watch out for things.
-Never spoke?
-Never. A rule.
-Well, how did he live? There's no electricity
or anything. How did he keep warm, cook?
-It gets good sun, and while not exactly cozy...
And he...carried in furniture from somewhere.
Maybe he’s a raw foodie, because he doesn't cook.
Hey! Now that we're the Oldy-Fishy-Villagey
with attendant crappy souvenirs, no shortage of
restaurants. He enjoys life. Seems to. Something...
familiar about him.
-There's still a...danger in...
-He's quite the neat one! I have a sense of security.
-You should talk to him, even charge a nominal
rent or something. Did you consult your lawyer?
-Stop it! Why monkey with simplicity? Besides,
WE have often talked, the two of us here present,
about charity: how we give to quake victims in
Indonesia or somewhere, but neglect wretches
close by? Well, I'm not neglecting this one.
-Charity begins in your warehouse?
-Why not? It’s pretty easy.
-One thought–-if you excuse the expression? With all your
cameras and darkroom here--and you're really a throwback...?
-I don't have a picture of him.
-I'd get one.
-But...I do of her.
-Her? WHO her?
-A couple of weeks ago, he became...
-You're pulling my leg now!
-Very attractive female clothes, and the little
place even more spruced up: curtains and
doilies.
-Maybe it's someone else.
-No, you can tell--even though I didn't get the best look.
It's the same person, but female.
-Is this the LAST bizarre twist in the story, or must
you sustain the Victorian crap even longer?
-Dr Jekyll and Mrs Hyde? That's rich! Anyway, I felt even
more secure with her up there. Women better at detail.
-I think it's sick, you think it's healthy!
-But, as you suggest, I do finally get a picture. Which...is here!
-So domestic! Frilly even!
-And...compare it to THIS old one.
-Oh no! Oh no! I don't need a ghost story too!
That’s where you’re going. I know you!
-My mother when she led the Women's Club.
-Identical! Jesus H. Christ on a bicycle!
-Yup. Mom "lives" up there now, having forced
out the other woman. She was always a strong
person, that's for sure.
-Have you...spoken...?
-Wouldn't dare! She was ever the intensely
private one in this house. She’ll pick the time.
-I'm shattered! Anything to drink, or have you
drained it all into your fevered imagination?
-No time! I can see Mom approaching through my
un-curtained window. You were always a favorite of
hers as a very little boy.
-If she comes in, I faint.
She did, and he did.
If this were Hitchcock, she’d prove an actress
from Central Casting, and he’d pay her off.
but Mother didn’t linger, given the situation.
She enters and sort of instantly leaves.
More or less departs permanently.
He eventually sells out to a toy distributor, and moves
to Cocoa Beach, on the border with Cape Canaveral.
Enjoys hearing the rockets go up.
Labels: Cape Canaveral, Cocoa Beach, fish, ghost, Mother, rocket, sex, sex change, squatter, touristy
Sunday, April 26, 2015
Requirements After Dark
The Enormous Funk lasted seven weeks, and then one fine day
I plucked the bills folder from the shelf.
Owed everybody, so I wrote the late checks, ripping up the
reminders.
Mailed them, some with penalties to teach me a lesson!
I never learned, I suppose. Darkness has its way of cloaking
lessons.
I did decide to walk to the drug store and pay in person there.
Holkie was a snap person on such matters, so I prepared for his
"You finally paying me? I gotta pay people too you know!"
He up in his lighted enclosure and Stelly at the register, her smile...
her wonderful smile.
But, no Stelly, and Holkie took the check silently.
“Where's...?”
“Lost her. Some...kinda stroke. Collapses at the register and gone
that night.”
“I’ll miss her terribly!” The first sincere thing I said after the
cessation of the blackness. I had been faking it to make it and was,
therefore, most unsteady.
“Me too.” Both crying.
Her smile stayed with me as I walked home, all the jostling cars
like double their bright colors. Somebody berated a "Tijuana" in
the taxi garage.
Just before I reached my block, Stelly spoke.
"No chance to say goodbye, Rolf."
"I'm so so sorry. I...don't know how I came out of this last one!"
"Ask me not to leave."
I did.
Labels: death, depression, funk, ghost, recovery, stroke
Sunday, July 07, 2013
Bump in the Night
Domestic Mystery
-Something fell during the night.
-Well, old house, shifting and groaning.
-But no evidence when I wake up.
-Put back.
-By?
-Restoration Spirits.
-You made that up.
-But it sounds right.
-I should do something, I suppose. But not worthy
of TV. I couldn't stand all the fuss.
-Put something on the very edge of a shelf,
precarious. If it falls and then gets put
back, it'll be in a safer position.
-Gods teaching me a safety lesson.
-Something like that.
-I think I'll avoid it all and move.
-The new suburb with the new house and its
square corners!
-Yeah. Who wants to bother anymore?
-But what if something falls there?
-They've chased me?
-Then the scaredy new neighbors’ll want you to move once again.
-Stop the scenario! I wanna get off! Ghosts not
gonna make me a man without a country.
-Just a simple expiation might do it for now.
Ponder your sins and confess to...
-Multitudinous!
-Go for a blanket one.
-I think I'll just stay in the old dump and stop listening.
Especially to you!
Labels: expiation, ghost, old house, TV
Tuesday, May 29, 2012
The War
In a forgotten corner
of Vienna, zigzags
of rubble under grass
and wildflowers. Once
Karl's Restaurant.
At twilight he decants
pale wine. A drop
hangs in the air,
an iridescence.
Labels: ghost, restaurant, war
