L'aura del Campo

Cast of the living dead. Seasons.

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          SUMMER: 13 Rahmat (6 July)          

Think cool !

Weather where I am: 76º and pleasant.
Weather in San Francisco, CA: 55º and chilly.
Weather in Reykjavik, Iceland: 54º.

Slept in today ... because I could. No nightmares. Even stayed out on the town later than usual as a friend offered me a ride. Buses stop running at 8 p.m. and if I don't catch the 7:23, I have over an hour's walk. Felt normal to be out after 9!

So, Mike Wales, gave me another way of referring to a particular group of people here: "Cast of the living dead". The "show" opens at 8 every night and, depending on the cast, goes on till daylight. The names change on an irregular basis, but the roles stay the same.

Cast of the Living Dead

The Tweaker: found something goooooood today. May or may not sleeeeeeeep tonight.

Drunk #1: passed out on stage. Never moves.

Drunk #2: passed out but flails her arms everywhere and finally rolls off the stage.

Drunk #3: sober tonight and helping Drunk #4 with Drunk #5.

Drunk #4: pissed and stumbly. Angry and loud. Knocks into everybody.

Drunk #5: happy ... verrrry happppy. (to be your friend or whatever ... whenever ... now?)

Miss Paranoia: sits in her corner. DO NOT TOUCH!

Mister "I'm bored": trying to get something going between Drunk #5 and Miss Paranoia. Sparks fly. And BURN.

Miss Drama-Queen (her or him): every little slight is SO important if it concerns ME, ME, ME.

Mister Drama-King: ditto, except it's all posturing and bluster from him (or her).

"I haven't slept in three days": trying to sleep.

"I haven't eaten in three days": scrounging for food, putting fingers in everything.

Miss Priss: I am going to have a trantrum.

Mister Schizophrenia: you won't see me coming. Is tonight your lucky night?

Miss and Miss: discretely holding hands to not get caught.

Mister and Mister: a discrete kiss, hoping not to get caught.

Mr. and Mrs.: put in separate rooms, separated by a half wall.

Mister-and-Miss-We-Don't-Give-A-f***: fornicating in the second row of the audience.

Now, I know there are other characters as well. And I'm sure I can make a long list: Mr. I-just-got-out-of-prison-and-I-don't-wanna-go-back; Mr. I've-been-out-of-jail-for-four-days-and-I'm-ready-to-go-back-now; Miss My-knife-is-bigger-than-your-knife; Mr. I-haven't-bathed-in-three-weeks; Mr. Old-Cheese (as in feet); Mr. I've-been-off-my-meds-for-five-days-now; Ms. I-just-found-some-pills-and-popped-them. Mrs. Depressed. And so on and so on.

So ... you think these characters are disgusting enough? Not. They are your brother and your sister. They could just as easily be your long lost uncle or aunt ... Most have good hearts (a few need to find theirs ... been so long). Their terminal diagnosis? Human!

IMAGES

Waiting at Mass and 9th:

Litter of leaf, wood, tobacco; spread of sweet potato through the chain link fence; blue box, green box, red box; pink vinca; cracked brick; 'road closed' barrier of orange and white; green awning, red awning, blue awning; a few people walking (me leaving too).

Picked cucumbers, lettuce, beans and carrots. The melons are growing visibly larger each day. I'm watering as it is supposed to be upper 80s with no rain in sight till Sunday. And then? It's been a dry year - 6 to 7 inches below normal so far. The rain we had earlier in the week was welcomed but not nearly enough.

I hoed too. I don't like hoeing, especially with an ornery hoe. Now we've all known an ornery hoe or two ... Mostly purslane, grass and bindweed.

The following is an example (not the best) of what will be a group of poems called "Seasons". Each part is a season; therefore, 4 stanzas or 5 (when returning to the first). I've done a number of these. They may begin with any season and can be in any form, repeating the form throughout (4 haiku/senryu, 4 cinquains, 4 couplets, 4 sonnets! maybe YOU not ME ).

[swallows dip and dive under the half moon]

Swallows dip and dive under the half-moon
waxing over the county courthouse.

The ducks move south during the night;
by daylight the fullness of moon glints on frost.

Icicles hang from the courthouse gutters;
moon wans hidden by twilight and silence.

The new moon crescent beckons swallows, "come back";
The courthouse rises, enclosed by green beacons.
[163.224]

Similar poems, written last year, may be found in "Seasons" . They are still 'sketches' that need editing. (And there are a bunch more that need to be entered.)

Oh ... and please rate and review yesterday's poem. I had to make it a separate entry: "Zmitri" .