HORNER, JACK

      I don’t know how long they’ve been here, drifting through the room touching people. As far as I can remember the ghosts have always been here; they make us normal again. It’s always so quiet after they have come and gone. When they touch me, oh they are so beautiful, I can begin to remember things again. I know when they have touched me because my throat feels cool and my mouth is wet. As soon as I stop shaking I go to my window.
     I love my window because it is so bright, just like the ghosts. I know that I am normal when I look out the window because I see people walking in all that brightness. They must be normal, so I’m sure that I am too because otherwise how could I see them?
     My window is so pretty. For so long it shows me a green world; then it changes its mind, turns a bunch of colors, and then turns white. That’s when it’s the brightest. I can never remember to count how many times it’s turned white for me, but my window likes me because it’s done it a lot. Even though it changes colors all the time, I know it’s my window, my name is on the bed under it. In little letters it says “HORNER, JACK”.
     But now my hands start to shake again and I don’t like to sit by my window. The Outside people can see me here. They stop walking by and start watching me. I think they see my hands shake. The ghosts say that Outside peoples hands don’t shake ’cause they’re normal. So if they see me shaking they will know I live with the ghosts. When the ghosts make my mouth wet and cold my hands stop shaking. But now my hands are shaking so I can’t be normal. I wish my window would help me stay normal.
     I have to get up now. Maybe I can find a ghost to touch me again, but all I see is the other people. All of them are Inside people. They wear stripes like me. They are so noisy. Whenever my hands begin to shake the Inside people get too loud and hurt my ears. I always have to cover my head with my arms and run to the quiet places. But I’m looking for the ghosts and I don’t see any.
     My favorite quiet place is over in the corner under the shelf. It is a very tall shelf, but it does not scare me. I know nothing is living up there. I sit in my corner because I am smart. I know that because the ghosts stay away from us Inside people when we are loud, so I must be smart when I hide from the loud people. I know that if I can be like the ghosts, then I am good and they will have to say I’m normal.
     The ghosts have come back to stop my hands from shaking. I stand and walk over to them. I try to float like they do. I practice. One ghost smiles at me, touches me, but my mouth is still dry. I hope I’ve not been bad. They make it dark when I’m bad. The ghost says today we are special because one of the Outside people has given us their food to eat.
     But if I eat Outside people food, then wont I get smart and become normal? On the table is the Outside food. It’s a pie. It must have brains in it or something. The kind that will keep my hands from shaking.
     So I grab the pie for myself, right in front of the ghost, and run to my corner. The ghost gets all loud and noisy like Inside people do. This pie must have the ghosts brain in it. It wants the brains for itself. It only wanted to give us a little. But I know now. I’ll get a brain and I’ll be normal. When I get to my corner I sit down with the Outside pie. I don’t want to break all the brains by mushing them up with my whole hand. The ghost is so noisy now. I don’t want the ghost to think I’m bad and make it dark so I stick only my thumb in the pie. When I pull it out there is a brain stuck to it, it looks sort of like a plum. I show the ghost my new brain, so it knows that I’m smart and normal now. I say “I’m a good boy” but the ghost says I’m not smart.
     Then the ghost makes everything go dark…

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The Kitchen

An antique is
Old
UselessAnd showy
Serving no purpose
That is my aunt’s kitchen

Cooking here is minimal
But style is at a maximum
Old oak floors
And a tin ceiling hung with fans

Antique glass on each cupboard
Displays urns of hand dried
Noodles and herbs
Like a mausoleum

All of which clashes with the
Stainless steel
Digital
LED display
Of the most modern
Double oven

Framed in worm bored antique wood paneling

We are visiting, my wife and I
I am talking with my aunt
My wife goes to the kitchen
Looking for something to drink

She finds the fridge in a recessed corner
It is an old fridge
My aunt thinks it’s ugly
She hides it

My wife opens it
She does not see drinks
She does not see food
Only condiments
Ketchup can make anything taste good

What once was food is now
A governmental experiment
Wrapped in cellophane
Green, red, & brown
Frigid, toxic rainbow

Ten minutes later
My wife hands me my coat
Her stern eyes glare into mine
She says
“It’s time to go”

 

MISS HARLEY QUINN’S
Take on Her Kitchen
________________________

An Antique is
Old
Lovely
And full of memories
This is my kitchen

Cooking here is a constant
Style a vain hope
New sticky tab tile flooring
And an old ceiling with flourescent lighting.

A 23rd coat of paint on each cupboard
Keeping safe hand picked herbs
Like a magician’s hat

All of which comes together with
witch dolls on high
cats on counters
candles that flicker

If you were to visit, your wife and you
You’d have no room to gather or stand

If your wife went to the ever so small kitchen
Looking for something to drink

She coudn’t help but find the fridge
I think it serves its purpose
And it can’t hide

If your wife opened it
She would see drinks
She would see food
And condiments
Feta and truffle oil make everything grand

The food thats there,
made with love and care
Is kept in lead free containers just waiting to be enjoyed

Yummy, savory, a culinary rainbow.

10 minutes later
Your wife hands you her coat and says,
“Please hang this up…we’re staying to sup.”

This is my kitchen. 🙂

5 Things for me

I have been tagged by Miss Harley Quinn over at Wild Hare to produce a list of “5 gifts I would buy for myself this Christmas if I had “Unlimited” income”. If it has to be for me than here it is:

1). I would buy every ounce of chocolate, all the cocoa plantations, & every business that makes chocolate. Thereby guaranteeing my complete control over all of the women on Earth. BWHA-HA-HAAAA!! I’ll do it just as soon as I finish a couple of chores my wife gave me. She also wants me to run some errands for her too. Of course, she said by the time I get back she’ll have some more for me. BUT as soon as that’s all done I’ll be in control!….providing the wife gives me permission first. I’ll probably have to clean the cat box or something…aw-man. I hate that.

2). I will pay Bill Watterson any price he names to start writing “Calvin & Hobbs” again. Did you hear that Bill. ANY PRICE!! Your panels can be any size you want. You want more vacation? You got it! You want to set your own deadlines? You got it! I will personally see that you get 365 different editors that all report to you. That way you can fire 1 a day for a whole year! Alright Bill,…Just Name Your Price! You’ll Get It!

3). I would buy every castle on Earth. Renovate, restore, & rebuild all of them. I’d make many of them free public museums and the others as bed & breakfasts. I, of course, would take turns living in many of them especially Harlech Castle in Wales.

4). The best equipment for my wood shop and classes at Arrowmont school of Arts & Crafts.

5). House Mountain in Rockbridge county, VA. Here I would grow old in a Cedar-sided house.

Well there’s my list. Thank you Harley for the fun. I now bestow the the fun upon Chantal over at Ain’t Life Strange? if she can ever find the time.

Dobre Den.

And a round for everybody!

Hawk at Hawk’s Place has presented me with two Blogging badges.

 

 

1). Be The Blog. This was created by Mark at MeAndMyDrum. Mark made this is for “Bloggers that make their blog their own, stay with it, are interactive with their readers, and just plain have fun.”.

 

 

2). Best Blogging Buddies for Global Communities. This was created by Colin over at Life who said, “Having received many awards I have decided that it was time I created one for ALL my Blogging Buddies. You are ALL awesome and contribute to the wonderful global communities that we have all created.”.

Thanks to Hawk and to everybody who visits here. I look forward to meeting more of you.

Dobre Den

Standing on a Block

Standing
Standing still
Still in the forest
In the forest looking down
Down at my feet
At my feet feathers
Feathers from a hawk
Primaries, tail, many
Many feathers beside a Beech tree
A Beech tree with a hole
A hole filled with the remains
Remains of a Red-Shouldered Hawk
Kneeling
Kneeling near a different tree
A different tree with another hole
A hole in the base
The base filled with leaves
Leaves covered in blood
Blood dripping
Dripping from higher inside the tree
The Owls tree

Giving Thanks to you.

Out at the Stone
The candles are lit
A man is meditating
Out at the Stone
Many thanks are given
For so many gifts received
Out at the Stone
Counted amongst the blessings
Are new Brothers & Sisters
Out at the Stone
Those stronger than distance
Always touching in words
Out at the Stone
The man stands to his feet
Walks into the woods
Out behind the Stone
The bonfire is lit
And the day begins

Coal Burning Fire

The 200 watt bulb illuminates
A rusting Pot Belly Stove
Snow turns to steam
Rising from the furnace
As a damp December snow
Attempts to mask it’s presence
Low ceiling clouds lie obscured
By the nights indifference
Christmas trees placed around the stove
Form a shelter against the wind
Huddling within the alcove a man
Stealing the warmth for himself
Feeding the diminishing flame
He takes a stone from the pile
Woolen fingers open the grate
Tossing a lump of coal
Into the low banked
Crimson fire
He leaves the grate open
To watch the stone ignite
Thin wisps of black flame
creep along the edges
Of burning stones
That once covered the world
As continental swamps
Teeming with Life
In the silent quintessence
Of the snowy eve
A man is pulled
Into embers
Older than his race

Something Good!

Today was a righteously fine day. To start with my sister & clan showed up on Saturday on a stop over from their family vacation. I have not seen her and hers’ for some time so the visit was readily welcomed and enjoyed. The Wife and I and my sister and brother-in-law talked well into the evening while all the kids ran around the house ’till they turned into butter. Classic evening. Then we all woke up early to a repeat performance until late morning when they needed to hit the road. Good-bye’s, hugs, and my two kids chased along side of their car as they departed. Alright, great morning.

So the wife and I needed to run one quick errand. We left Kid 1 and Kid 2 at home to play Monopoly and we hit the road. Did I mention that today was a divine autumn day? While driving I asked the wife if there’s anything particular she wanted to do today. All she said was “Go canoing”. I mentioned that I could build some picture frames in the garage when we got back home. She then stuck out her bottom lip and hit me with that “I thought you loved me” pout. So we went canoing. On a mountain lake. On a sunny autumn day. With the kids and the dog. Off the lake before sundown with lots of awesome pictures. Then in the truck and home. Heading home every one was calm, quiet, and relaxed. Nearing the house I noticed a column black smoke coming from the direction of the house. This makes me think about the roast in the crock-pot. Begin slight uneasy feeling. Then the wife sees the column and says “Don’t we live over there?”. Begin moderate uneasy feeling. A few moments later Kid 2 piped up in the back with “Mommy, Daddy’s going fast again”. Ahem… Anyway a couple of hundred feet before I am to turn onto my road we see some neighbors burning a brush pile in their yard. And there we have the origin of the column of smoke. AAHHhhhh… That’s a lot better than what I was thinking. I eased off the accelerator. Coasted the rest of the way. Good air in, bad air out. Repeat. “Oh look kids there’s our house!”. “Doesn’t it look great!” So everybody got out. Grab this grab that. Up the steps. Turned the key. Opened the door…

SMOKE!

Billowing out from the door.

Parents race in,

To the kitchen

Kid 1 grabs Kid 2,

Races out to lawn.

Parents to crock-pot,

Crock-pot to deck.

Kids from lawn

Now at door,

Calling out.

Impromptu sit-rep on front porch

Unanimous decision

Chinese!

SooOO, the wife takes the kids into town to grab some take-out. While I stay home to vent the house. (Oh, not enough water in the damn pot) We eventually eat dinner, vent the house, wash the kids, vent the house, and put them to bed, while venting the house. Well it’s time for me and the wife to kick back and smell the house, no, relax (not that we haven’t been relaxing all day anyway. But, hey, why not?). I get ready to write my post for tonight. She puts on a movie she rented. Tells me it’s a chick flick and viewing is not mandatory for me. So I sit back and begin to center my thoughts. I want very much to write something tonight that will be up-lifting and positive. She turns on the movie and POW!

…”What is this?!”

“It’s a movie I rented. It’s supposed to be very good.”

…”These clips are real. How is this a movie?!”

“Just watch then.”

…”What’s it called?”

“God Grew Tired of Us.”

…”What’s it about?”

“Some Sudanese refugees that come to America from a refugee camp.”

Complete attention! This is one of the better movies I’ve ever seen. I will be showing this to Kid 1 directly. It is a documentary about these Sudanese guys coming to America to restart their lives after war and starvation as children. None of them have seen their families for years and wonder whether they ever will. They push themselves because to them failure is not an option. You get to watch as these guys spend 3 years in America struggling to embrace their culture while succeeding in another. As much as I wanted to write something that was uplifting, I could not hold a candle to this. Not even a flaming pot-roast. So the point of my post is to recommend the movie “God Grew Tired of Us“. You will not be wasting your time. You will be better off for indulging into this delight. If you’re emotional it will get you, but worry not. They film 3 guys all of which do well. Great endings. Great movie.

Dobre Den.

The Dump

In the Backyard
Digging holes
Into each an item dropped
Something to be buried
Like the occasional dagger
Thrown upon the lawn
Carelessly from a passer by
Intentionally from a passer by
Maliciously from a passer by
Cluttering up the yard
My yard
With sticks & stones
Yet I do not throw them back
Back at my detractors
I never liked throwing daggers
So I never learned how
My penance then
To pick them up
And to bury each one
Where it won’t be seen
Like it was never thrown
Into my yard
Into my face
So no one can see them
And if I don’t look
Neither will I

Hidden Paintings in the Night

∞

Anointed by droplets
Just after rainfall
While passing through a woods
Blackened by the early morning
Too recently roused from slumber
I am onto the habitual errand
Approaching the river
To cross the trestle bridge
Illuminated by its lone
Sodium arc lamp

Drip
AWAKE

Drop
AWARE

Time Stops
I am halted
By a gift on the trail
And still the trees
Anoint me with water
As I look toward the bridge
I see the light
Shining back at me
Through the trees
Just after rainfall
A million black silhouetted leaves
Laced in a billion diamond drops
Scintillating in gold from the lone
Sodium arc lamp
All I hear is the passing river
And leaf drops kissing the ground
Drops that channel down my brow
As I stand beholden to grace
While breathing the morning air
God so recently exhaled
When making on this ground
A Shrine to the Night

∞

So Hawk and I were having this discussion, see..

Hawk, of Hawk’s Place, has tagged me with something called “7 things you don’t know, but I do“. My reaction was caught by a passing Courtroom artist.

GALLUMPPHILING – Trying to express to someone, who is well read, worldly, and with expectations, that you got NOTHIN’!!!

.

7 THINGS YOU DON’T KNOW (ABOUT ME), BUT I DO.
1). IT’S NOT ABOUT ME.
I have known for some time now that I was not put here by the Creator to “Rule the world”. My name will not be found in a list of Who’s Who. Nor shall I receive honorary degrees for merit or medals of valor. That is not my purpose. I am here to teach my two children how to find good solid ground near bedrock, clear the ground of brush & debris, then pour footers. After that I will present each of them with a pair of stiles. I will hold each set in place on the footers while my progeny begin to affix their rungs. If I do this correctly by the time they have climbed above me the cement will be cured. I will then let go, stand back and watch as they ascend.

2). WHAT THE COURT OF THE WHITE BEAR IS.
Ever since I was very small I have had Night Terrors. They say your not supposed to remember anything, but occasionally I did. Of all the dreams that stuck with me the Bear dreams were the worst. Usually the bears would TELL me (did you get that, TELL!…) they were Evil and I was dinner then eat me alive. All except for one. Somehow I found myself in a giant natural stone amphitheater, much like an old era stone quarry. It was way up in the Rockies just below the Treeline. Every type of bear I knew of had assembled around me filling the tiers. In the middle was a big Polar bear who stood erect. Purist of white. All the bears were focused on me for it was my trial. I stood accused of being dishonest and apart from the Earth. The White bear, judge, jury, & executioner, then proclaimed to the others and to the World that I was guilty and condemned me. It then ended as they all did. I’m not sure that I’ll ever find redemption for this, but I keep looking.

3). LIGHTNING DOES NOT HURT.
It’s true what they say, You do not hear the bolt that hits you. You do see the light though. You also feel no pain when it does. Oh don’t misunderstand me, it can hurt plenty afterwards. And the rush of the sensation is completely overwhelming. For anyone who has received the common household shock it’s not like that either. I say its got to be exactly like getting hit with a train. Just slower.

4). THE QUIETEST PLACE ON EARTH.
Its on the backside of Little Cranberry Island, Maine. The town of Islesford resides on the other side. 80 or so people living right by the Pier. Calm protected water. If you absolutely must hear something there’s a buoy with that perfect warning bell sound tolling synchronistically with the waves over by the lighthouse.

5). I CAN NOT READ BLACK & WHITE SCRIPT.
On paper or on a monitor. All the letters endlessly jump and dance around (lightly shake your head sideways while reading this). To do so I must play with the lighting or use super big font or change the color fields. You should see my color scheme on my computer. When the IT people work on my business machine they bitch about going blind. I just laugh.

6). CONVERSATION IS FOREIGN TO ME.
No I’m not a shut-in. I just need to flip a switch inside of me to talk to people. It is not a natural condition for me to talk conversationally. Now when that switch is on I can talk to anybody about anything. It bothers me, however, that I must change faces first. Oh I don’t do that with the family. But everyone else, yes. So I have come here to blog. You’ll notice that I do more stating than talking, but I’m working on it. I’m to old to still have this issue.

7). I BELIEVE IN ANIMISM.
This is the belief that all things have a sentient spirit. I accept this statement fully. Trees, stones, rivers, mountains, oceans, etc,etc. Including some man-made items such as ships, cars, guns, buildings, etc,etc. I believe that life surrounds us and is in all things.

Pity the Gods

What is a God without believers?

Perhaps alone

Maybe insane

Definitely mortal

–

Forgotten Gods

No one to take them seriously

But themselves

The mumbling and pathetic lunatic

Stumbling down the street

Living in a reality

That rots his soul

The world he created to rule

Turned out to be just another hell

If only he could admit to himself

His mistake

Life on the Crease

-The vulture masthead

On the utility pole

Along the road

Waiting for lunch

To try and cross

-So bold in a world

That consists of

Road signs that read

 

BEER

AMMO

 

Shall we scare it away

Or run away ourselves

Struck

By the time I saw the light

Someone’s heart had stopped beating

Then the explosion beneath my feet

With the power of a four engine train

The force shot upwards through my body

Bounced off the top of my head

Then went back down into the ground

Where I was now lying

It was September

After three O’clock

Details are fuzzy

The feeling though

Is quite clear

Waking

Breathing to the fullest

I draw in the morning air

Each exhale a sigh

Purging the sleep from within

Tea

Amniotic fluid for the soul

Like Arthur from the Grail

I drink

Scanning the room

Remembering who I am

As the morning fills with light

So does my body fill with life

Each moment of the awakening

Spent in a silent ceremony of respect

For the day is new

And I have been reborn

Leaves

Alone atop my Tree

The Moonlight and I

The arms that hold me

Monolith to the Sky

-Worship-

My color stripped

All friends gone

My swan song

Fall

-Farewell-

Heart Wood

Alone on the Path

Isolated under the expanse of the forest

Freed from the Past

Left only with Today

Trudging through the trees

The trees that count the years in rings

That today’s leaves breath life into

-Living AS Time-

Callus to anything under a decade

Yet, capturing each moment in the fiber of its being

Deep in the heartwood lies the seedling still

Avatar of youth now long dead

Birth its only contribution

To that which now stands

Where neither storm nor hand has touched

Embracing its youth

With mature resolve

To never release its sound wood

Which gives to the tree strength

 

Yet I scurry by

-Consuming Time-

Walking where only today’s Sun shines

Releasing the Past as a matter of survival

Living the Future a day at a time

Absorbing from the Now what I can

Expelling the rest into the Past

Write Now

Ode to a moment

Put to the pen.

History forged

In the present.

More than a memory.

It’s a tale of perspective.

Evidence of emotion

Or thought.

The conclusion of

A moment.