a crooked lane

espuma

caribbeancwby — Sun, 01 Jan 2012 01:09:46 +0000

out on the horizon, sun itches to dissolve. cool sand, year nearly over, i walk. it’s neither high nor low tide. i scoop a handful of shells, sift thru it all. voices, it’s been so long she’s talked with me. i observe a little girl, her dad pulls a terrier, sandcastles left alone. i push on plus nod to him or her. as they pass i think “in my brain”, fuck the sun sparkles!

a lone fisherman piddles in the swells. i sneak a little closer, shutter snaps. not only is the camera ecstatic so am i! the sun in her cloak waves goodbye. for the next 5 min i run into then away…. espuma tells a tale, like the sea.

tennessee

caribbeancwby — Tue, 13 Dec 2011 17:48:14 +0000

flu of chicago. trip to tennessee.

I pulled in, visible endless junk next door.

we walked, a silly little dog comes by. “meet kerosene”,

jeff says. the bare oak, boat n tool shed. I was

happy to see him, so was he! bacon, biscuits n two eggs.

as if our hearts desired a twain tale, remember huck or tom?

we partook in adventure on the sequatchie river.

not one ratty barn missed by our eyes!

to the days of yesteryear.

In heart of the catoosa wild management. this is country.

her oven expels aroma that’d tease us.

starry night so still you hear the drool from a coyote.

oh hi poodle n greet the lad.

the clan from knoxville, a blessing.

a table of chit chat, savory chicken n pasta.

at daybreak, deer sausage n quiche.

the little house in the woods, suits.

deep in the gorge not a ripple on rivers edge. a huge tree

submersed, tranquil. the sun shines barely. I listen, jeff tells

a story bout “saluting” fish.

thanks: jeff, mark, jane, anita, vic, pres, rosie, sailor

autumn pt 3

caribbeancwby — Mon, 07 Nov 2011 14:47:47 +0000

4 riders. 3 spilt off, the other i softly said “slow it.” 2 doves sit, lovers perhaps? a nasty cross wind happily steers my bike.

tires spin over slick roots. 2 white tail deer, “hi mr thorn bush,” i crash into! foliage it fades. i pick up a leaf, blood drips on the venation.

daily a scenic river trail sheds her undergarments. a hawk hones in it’s prey, squirrels splurge. lurking is a naked winter.

autumn pt 2

caribbeancwby — Mon, 17 Oct 2011 13:52:56 +0000

on one side, spitter spat, cold rain greeted us early. an opposite, cozy warm mix to soften the fact it was misery. i had one dilemma, booties or none? this buckaroo slung a leg over, steed eager, we galloped.

windy it was, rinsing courteous of my helmet made visibility somewhat shit! 20 min pass, limestone flies, teeth grit. the last of green vegetation shivers, squirrels scamper.

a northern red oak sat quiet & now leafless. 40 min later a trail. well it is autumn, she exhales!

autumn

caribbeancwby — Fri, 07 Oct 2011 22:14:58 +0000

i sat quietly, autumn is round me sort of..

were the eyes in disbelief that prairie grass was kindling? i shook the thought, a smile whilst the valley erupted in fire! the jacket tucked in a vest securely, bike sat still. my breathe a little more at ease. fuck, it was stressful to arrive here.

a cornflower blue sky, dry cedar was nearly splintered. i could hear no traffic, see yes. one pop, the other clip of rotation, sweet synchronicity.

i rose out of the saddle, dew on all the lawns, glow in my face. a right hand turn, once again a left hand dictates how close cars inch. for the remainder of forty minutes i buried self in the drops.

arrival in, hrs on the bike.. autumn resumes

paula’s

caribbeancwby — Sun, 07 Aug 2011 00:25:09 +0000

its some minute past 6pm, beer cold.

there was snow piled high, cobalt reached forever. i made way thru town, parked in the drive & walked in. “so brad you ready to go back?” i said “no i’d rather stay, calif is me.”

bells on the inside greet us, so does her kindness. this lil chalkboard made both our eyes pop, this-that-maybe. he leaned over, “its all fucking delicious!” i obliged.

a back booth, two souls, one agenda. i like good food, the company even more so. an iced tea, cola for me. my ears listened, life here on the mountain was all ok. he asked, “how’s the grub?” i said, “splendous.”

back at the chalet, music turned on, outside the pines swayed. we stood on the porch with full bellies. an expanse of blue sky n clouds, he said “so?” i came back with, “i love paula’s.”

haze

caribbeancwby — Thu, 21 Jul 2011 12:33:13 +0000

i arrived in, rather well spent too. no cat to greet me, father did. air con nice, all day i was in then out. my right hand lifted the blind, a bike commuter rolled by, smile. work a mess, shit, this beer is real good.

a time lapse of sort, no video just memories.

6am cranks spun south, lil headwind. on the tourist trap, cafe odors & sun sparkles. a feather of clouds sway like sclera encases an iris. 2 bottles refilled, lets go. on the dam geese dance an edge, fishermen stand in the dry riverbed.

7am wheels slice north, tailwind ah. this tree lined Rd causes a ricochet of light, i giggle. a left turn & decent in the park, must seek water. i can feel it get warmer, so i’ll ride faster.

8am i push east, voices swirl in a breeze. i watch this lil fairy appear on the hoods. her brow sweats “brad get your ass home!” i blink eyes, ask “what the fuck?” poof she disappears.. in a summers haze.

flow

caribbeancwby — Fri, 20 May 2011 21:47:17 +0000

in the corner i sat beat, as did the facia painted in tropical blue. a cackle of “yeah the lines look good”, to “we’re going in”, trickled thru ears. one by one this bar began to serve sun stricken sailors. the brief shade oh so sweet, i’d been fore & aft all day. “hi desiree can i get another round?” i bellied up to politely hand mates frigid kalik’s n heineken’s..

i gazed at the sun, in less than 1hr she’d melt off the horizon like a heaping scoop ice cream. her orange sky twisting like sherbet tangled in raspberry. this archipelago of islands were like tiny mint chips, or better yet small cays. at high tide 6 of us laughed, it was time, for the anejo n rum to flow..

reach

caribbeancwby — Wed, 16 Feb 2011 02:36:12 +0000

as feet shuffle in the sand, clouds linger out to sea. the overindulgence of coffee is okay with me. flight through air is a runway to take a drink. it’s buoyancy also wings for they’ll never sink. carvings in the sand leftover from a holiday. I see not mine but other footprints trailing in the bay. the revolving of spokes, so silent. so swift. no gloves as rain falls, barehanded, if you catch my drift? the synchronicity, an object, next to a beach. truthful it’s happiness that I “reach” for.

sycamores

caribbeancwby — Thu, 03 Feb 2011 02:30:22 +0000

the eyes shut it was I could take in for one day. I nodded in & out of sleep, curious if not only dad yet if friends would survive this colossal storm? 6am risen, a war of caffeine consumption plus sneezing began! I sat, sipped, saw all of your pics.

after news of egypt, cyclone, sno I bailed on the bike. some bloke drew up a loop, so I said “lets do it!” a tailwind nudged me east, cool but the sun was nice. the oncoming bike lane sunny, mine shaded by sycamores. I saw this city worker approach, “hi man do you like Sram?”

I sat trying figure out where to go, no bike lane? a ride down this street, turn back up this one, shit erupted. an unusual dirt path was all I had, I yelled “fuck!” if I u-turn the ride back just suicide. funny did I just see a group of cyclists in team kits roll up ahead, possibly?

am I lost no but the world is a mess…