Birdbrain
Tuesday March 12
I wondered if moving from the TV room to the table here at the kitchen window would be any less of a dead end. I'm gratified to find that the immensity of ever-transforming clouds are as when I watched them in a rain puddle, a (w)hole in the steet you might step into and fall into heaven, as sculpted by God.
The little boy icon in his yellow slicker and rainboots squatting alongside a puddle full of sky, after the storm, I distinctly remember a day on Essex Place, the profundity of blue making ever more appearances between the everchanging billow of white and slate. I said that God and angels lived there, when I was a child.
There's a mo(u)rning dove in the bare bones on an elm about which a flurry of red-breasted finches dart about on the lawn, gleefully chasing each other to each delectable worm risen to the surface in the rain. Except for the far-off roar of a jet it sounds more like a rainforest than a city, so many birds chatter. I bet a bird is never happier than when a storm clears, and it's bright out, and water everywhere.
If there is daylight out my kitchen window then there a birds out my kitchen window. I like that. It has begun to rain again and it's so funny the way one of these almond colored doves and a fat little blackbird perch right alongside each other, peeping a non-chalant conversation about the weather, unmindful of their differences. Two gulls flap far out there, too. Is that a lark darting? Yeah, yeah. The dove's solemn coo flutes ryhtmically.
A rainbow! Could this get any gayer? Nah, but it's almost Saint Pat's. Where's me pot o' gold? Now look at all the Brewer's black birds on the wires. There are easily two dozen. Way the hell out there a helicopter beats over the 110 freeway, relaying jam info to the people who already know all too well.
Oh, man. Now I feel jagged. Tomorrow I have to present my portfloio but the final presentation is not until May.
We've just come from the Red Lobster. I'm stuffed with shrimp and butter, blech.
The GIP got gonorhea. He's lucky it's not worse. I told him he couldn't keep deluding himself about his immunity. That's the mistake Magic and Tommy Morrison made.
The Mighty Ducks beat the league-leading Colorado Avalanche to overtake LA for the final playoff spot.
I wondered if moving from the TV room to the table here at the kitchen window would be any less of a dead end. I'm gratified to find that the immensity of ever-transforming clouds are as when I watched them in a rain puddle, a (w)hole in the steet you might step into and fall into heaven, as sculpted by God.
The little boy icon in his yellow slicker and rainboots squatting alongside a puddle full of sky, after the storm, I distinctly remember a day on Essex Place, the profundity of blue making ever more appearances between the everchanging billow of white and slate. I said that God and angels lived there, when I was a child.
There's a mo(u)rning dove in the bare bones on an elm about which a flurry of red-breasted finches dart about on the lawn, gleefully chasing each other to each delectable worm risen to the surface in the rain. Except for the far-off roar of a jet it sounds more like a rainforest than a city, so many birds chatter. I bet a bird is never happier than when a storm clears, and it's bright out, and water everywhere.
If there is daylight out my kitchen window then there a birds out my kitchen window. I like that. It has begun to rain again and it's so funny the way one of these almond colored doves and a fat little blackbird perch right alongside each other, peeping a non-chalant conversation about the weather, unmindful of their differences. Two gulls flap far out there, too. Is that a lark darting? Yeah, yeah. The dove's solemn coo flutes ryhtmically.
A rainbow! Could this get any gayer? Nah, but it's almost Saint Pat's. Where's me pot o' gold? Now look at all the Brewer's black birds on the wires. There are easily two dozen. Way the hell out there a helicopter beats over the 110 freeway, relaying jam info to the people who already know all too well.
Oh, man. Now I feel jagged. Tomorrow I have to present my portfloio but the final presentation is not until May.
We've just come from the Red Lobster. I'm stuffed with shrimp and butter, blech.
The GIP got gonorhea. He's lucky it's not worse. I told him he couldn't keep deluding himself about his immunity. That's the mistake Magic and Tommy Morrison made.
The Mighty Ducks beat the league-leading Colorado Avalanche to overtake LA for the final playoff spot.
posted by johnz at 10:35 AM
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