tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21272854645214258102024-02-20T18:34:04.155-05:00The Dream Tigersdedicated to art as perceived by the contributors-random,loosely constructed, and filled with the stuff of dreams, nightmares,and occasional peculiar longings. tightly buttoned down sanity is often the lesser part of the soul. it destroys art with its limited vision. It will never get you to paradise.Hagfishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00695147533024986172noreply@blogger.comBlogger29125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2127285464521425810.post-46736579176748633842009-10-09T00:05:00.003-04:002009-10-09T00:37:40.350-04:00Welcome to The Dream TigersThis site was born on October 6, 2009. The moon is in Taurus, direct in it's course.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/139/1676/50/pic_dream_tig_up.jpg"><img class="phostImg" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/img/139/1676/400/pic_dream_tig_up.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />The Dream Tigers came again last night.<br />They breathed on my face, taking my air away.<br /><br />Their feet are so huge, they never sink<br />into the featherbed.<br /><br />Some nights I don't know they're there,<br />but on the nights when they feel hungry<br />they nibble at my fingers, swallowing<br />the tips like cherries. I can't ignore them then.<br /><br />I smell them when the air is heavy with fog or mist,<br />and I try to lie so still they'll pass me by as they<br />prowl, searching for something new to eat.<br /><br />My cherry fingertips grow back. The Dream Tigers<br />know this, timing their voracious night walks to<br />coincide with a fresh crop. I tried sleeping in a tree,<br />but they climbed better than I, and knocked me to the<br />ground to teach me a lesson. They reminded me then<br />of my evil stepmother, who beat me black and blue,<br />but never where it showed.<br /><br />The Dream Tigers know the cherry tips of my fingers<br />are ignored by others, and laugh at me for caring<br />so much whether I can push a button to light the room;<br />or write a letter asking to be rescued from them.<br />They know they are supreme in the Land of Night,<br />where Anything can happen, and sometimes does.<br /><br />I want to run away from the Dream Tigers, but<br />they're faster than I am, and I fear that if I annoy<br />them too much, they'll eat my legs instead, and I'll<br />be there, smelling them, and listening to them<br />rumbling as their appetites sharpen, finally eating<br />until I never grow back again.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5eSYJ7ICIhZwBF5D9iGESLgcigQJRSY10YI67BJ7jif7LAYA65nfyIPR-_YZmovRLC4_sPQRZ641Flar4VQPwXuyjD6zGfTlN0Z5QaFIFVylUyrmzL03heuSDHxlhoK4hpVEk5doDZdE/s1600-h/pic_dream_tig_down.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 212px; height: 193px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5eSYJ7ICIhZwBF5D9iGESLgcigQJRSY10YI67BJ7jif7LAYA65nfyIPR-_YZmovRLC4_sPQRZ641Flar4VQPwXuyjD6zGfTlN0Z5QaFIFVylUyrmzL03heuSDHxlhoK4hpVEk5doDZdE/s400/pic_dream_tig_down.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390446523671719202" /></a><br />A. Murray<br />July 13, 2003<br />Based on a dream told to me by Richard Sellers.Hagfishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00695147533024986172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2127285464521425810.post-771459671605856252009-10-09T00:01:00.003-04:002009-10-09T00:31:07.968-04:00Sofa - Drawing by Richard Sellers<span style="font-weight:bold;"><span style="font-style:italic;">Click image to enlarge.</span></span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmRoDBjmTt7xgIzYDTtdfU1M5Zl4K9M6O9YmjpYOV4J9nVhOj2KzC52A5AlZZ_48pyHioDPgmkPfziaehy2OmVYimHSQ-rBrjnKQUa-UGyqnZGgqtt9pUU-8Qh9nzGaZgq0IY-w2F0etE/s1600-h/002_RS_Sofa.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 260px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmRoDBjmTt7xgIzYDTtdfU1M5Zl4K9M6O9YmjpYOV4J9nVhOj2KzC52A5AlZZ_48pyHioDPgmkPfziaehy2OmVYimHSQ-rBrjnKQUa-UGyqnZGgqtt9pUU-8Qh9nzGaZgq0IY-w2F0etE/s400/002_RS_Sofa.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390445893436412690" /></a>Hagfishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00695147533024986172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2127285464521425810.post-6883014751972335712009-10-08T23:58:00.002-04:002009-10-09T00:30:37.981-04:00Limb-Woman - Drawing by Richard Sellers<span style="font-weight:bold;"><span style="font-style:italic;">Click image t enlarge.</span></span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSVgNh5RCHo3dmUyHYia9kdI0GRVX3tuvrsuA-Ch4SiUmstH4r06rkAzGcpS_DWE8aObTO_BIq-dyfSnx_YdrvyMOBQpaVXt0aeRhtmDYWYqKXbSOnRD9RBaK7lPaUyU5ULimLUg1-iVk/s1600-h/007_RS_Limb-Woman.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 305px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSVgNh5RCHo3dmUyHYia9kdI0GRVX3tuvrsuA-Ch4SiUmstH4r06rkAzGcpS_DWE8aObTO_BIq-dyfSnx_YdrvyMOBQpaVXt0aeRhtmDYWYqKXbSOnRD9RBaK7lPaUyU5ULimLUg1-iVk/s400/007_RS_Limb-Woman.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390444984718198130" /></a>Hagfishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00695147533024986172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2127285464521425810.post-47813436402731270582009-10-08T23:56:00.001-04:002009-10-09T00:30:22.260-04:00Wheels - Photograph by Richard Sellers<span style="font-weight:bold;"><span style="font-style:italic;">Click image to enlarge.</span></span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF6P5lBG3TV2tDWtwm0zDntmMVmWeWDutIrBOrcZrWHYEgIro3WSYJxWFS1Dj9yknKk1usEwQykbmy8_koHQK0zUR1r_0HRPd_V0C3vZYD881jODyWqO17s2LftTR_KXK2oAHpcukkf60/s1600-h/014_Wheels-_RS_sig.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF6P5lBG3TV2tDWtwm0zDntmMVmWeWDutIrBOrcZrWHYEgIro3WSYJxWFS1Dj9yknKk1usEwQykbmy8_koHQK0zUR1r_0HRPd_V0C3vZYD881jODyWqO17s2LftTR_KXK2oAHpcukkf60/s400/014_Wheels-_RS_sig.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390444370439392562" /></a>Hagfishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00695147533024986172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2127285464521425810.post-15937998867609960412009-10-08T23:54:00.001-04:002009-10-09T00:30:06.686-04:00Back - Photograph by Richard Sellers<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisjKnNTyYijYJzx-hk9m-DIYLEkp8mxLF5bEvF15b-akc_a5J1Y2PkaGVm0ANqIIwOsP1c2fXgc6S5K20sotTbD2nma5UBYyEu8tQhDSTjFKIF7XpxBVM0gPzYJKOR-KSejAAyMc5_fEg/s1600-h/001_RS_Nad_Back-sig.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 204px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisjKnNTyYijYJzx-hk9m-DIYLEkp8mxLF5bEvF15b-akc_a5J1Y2PkaGVm0ANqIIwOsP1c2fXgc6S5K20sotTbD2nma5UBYyEu8tQhDSTjFKIF7XpxBVM0gPzYJKOR-KSejAAyMc5_fEg/s400/001_RS_Nad_Back-sig.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390443851418424178" /></a>Hagfishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00695147533024986172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2127285464521425810.post-2510384321773204242009-10-08T23:51:00.002-04:002009-10-09T00:29:52.132-04:00Sepia Elm - Photograph by Richard Sellers<span style="font-weight:bold;"><span style="font-style:italic;">Click image to enlarge.<span style="font-style:italic;"></span></span></span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8GTbN6SGq9BgucA5ld0FgymG0cJpvkipxIHbK5X7QW9QwDQr2sZH_3khl3dM-nvC0dAVAGfj2UxWlMmBoysFICnFbgUZBuG0YIyNJ5rRMGMk5tMtNYQ7yFv0wlmppGSJfXkA_BdLr1I8/s1600-h/016_Sepia_Elm_RS_sig.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8GTbN6SGq9BgucA5ld0FgymG0cJpvkipxIHbK5X7QW9QwDQr2sZH_3khl3dM-nvC0dAVAGfj2UxWlMmBoysFICnFbgUZBuG0YIyNJ5rRMGMk5tMtNYQ7yFv0wlmppGSJfXkA_BdLr1I8/s400/016_Sepia_Elm_RS_sig.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390443091165061234" /></a>Hagfishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00695147533024986172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2127285464521425810.post-47678888849538783912009-10-08T23:48:00.001-04:002009-10-09T00:29:35.431-04:00Smiling Debris - Photograph by Richard Sellers<span style="font-weight:bold;"><span style="font-style:italic;">Click image to enlarge.</span></span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOI_-45q8XDtY8TM2UtQx_r3R0QpHkU5nHkutExlR4CvGEi_kzum14g4mWviZVPDpIdytdgDRAhGBi9DUs_NemdrHzJJtdtGl17Pa0uzJ9tg4SA5BOc5hu0YO22fCDrtcSqswW30tVMfo/s1600-h/017_Smiling_Debris_RS_sig.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOI_-45q8XDtY8TM2UtQx_r3R0QpHkU5nHkutExlR4CvGEi_kzum14g4mWviZVPDpIdytdgDRAhGBi9DUs_NemdrHzJJtdtGl17Pa0uzJ9tg4SA5BOc5hu0YO22fCDrtcSqswW30tVMfo/s400/017_Smiling_Debris_RS_sig.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390442392420360018" /></a>Hagfishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00695147533024986172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2127285464521425810.post-65085351673450312822009-10-08T23:36:00.003-04:002009-10-09T00:29:18.125-04:00All Chromed Up To Respetability - A . Murray<span style="font-weight:bold;"><span style="font-style:italic;">Click image to enlarge.</span></span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvYozvz4qmWTsjh-NI2PcgKHHlqAfDRz82dT9GOtDyDxIbuPyXdRe34VNE0qMoHAmR9h3dAnIVRTokuuagYPJEQhWjxFL6ApYAWflA-fM4k3amTkngHV-xknvkV1v6lObpQalolLJUlRc/s1600-h/015_AM_Chromed_Up.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 334px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvYozvz4qmWTsjh-NI2PcgKHHlqAfDRz82dT9GOtDyDxIbuPyXdRe34VNE0qMoHAmR9h3dAnIVRTokuuagYPJEQhWjxFL6ApYAWflA-fM4k3amTkngHV-xknvkV1v6lObpQalolLJUlRc/s400/015_AM_Chromed_Up.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390439855582855298" /></a>Hagfishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00695147533024986172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2127285464521425810.post-90558065667635186852009-10-08T23:32:00.001-04:002009-10-09T00:28:59.025-04:00Louis Armstrong - Drawing by Richard Sellers<span style="font-weight:bold;"><span style="font-style:italic;">Click image to enlarge.</span></span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1utPWICjgbCoat7As2btMzjoG8Et3UTd2aLyH5N3AlM8UqvzfqjExjs5hgSELkedtpPKcUUnvcIPBan3Lor5aOd37Cdf_hfILph0vKewVnWwH-ZNiaOyaVryPuJU1LnvQ-JSIShDp-PI/s1600-h/013_RS_Louis_Armstrong.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 317px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1utPWICjgbCoat7As2btMzjoG8Et3UTd2aLyH5N3AlM8UqvzfqjExjs5hgSELkedtpPKcUUnvcIPBan3Lor5aOd37Cdf_hfILph0vKewVnWwH-ZNiaOyaVryPuJU1LnvQ-JSIShDp-PI/s400/013_RS_Louis_Armstrong.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390438379487959986" /></a>Hagfishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00695147533024986172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2127285464521425810.post-84372196821642978252009-10-08T23:27:00.004-04:002009-10-09T00:28:42.067-04:00"N" - Drawing by Richard Sellers<span style="font-weight:bold;"><span style="font-style:italic;">Click image to enlarge.</span></span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFQD7Pmqc5-KMrnFLUZJbFmqzJ6AV6PYxP9oSmFetTAG_Tu0uiDuemJnSz6nyldWDUeyhtDPJcVw6jLWXhDQqoS4RrHFK0Kq4c-WIWkb2U-YKa5-m7hBkLyekAjMyLWxbjOG2n4M7qvWM/s1600-h/003_RS_Drawing_Nadine.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 234px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFQD7Pmqc5-KMrnFLUZJbFmqzJ6AV6PYxP9oSmFetTAG_Tu0uiDuemJnSz6nyldWDUeyhtDPJcVw6jLWXhDQqoS4RrHFK0Kq4c-WIWkb2U-YKa5-m7hBkLyekAjMyLWxbjOG2n4M7qvWM/s400/003_RS_Drawing_Nadine.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390437289030867426" /></a>Hagfishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00695147533024986172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2127285464521425810.post-52740032618274018202009-10-08T23:24:00.003-04:002009-10-09T00:28:16.669-04:00Beast - Drawing by Richard Sellers<span style="font-weight:bold;"><span style="font-style:italic;">Click Image to enlarge.</span></span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjae28k545VCMqp1u2nEKCbwxm5G6Qi1dI1-xd32xE5uSC1q-bzsQm-07OgmMW22nCvUvXaHnn3MttTzlYrQndW3Wi3hHiTAzIVjIlQUl9RMruPU37NDj9mHAjo3Tr2mlIr96SyLoGmhWA/s1600-h/012_RS_Beast.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 383px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjae28k545VCMqp1u2nEKCbwxm5G6Qi1dI1-xd32xE5uSC1q-bzsQm-07OgmMW22nCvUvXaHnn3MttTzlYrQndW3Wi3hHiTAzIVjIlQUl9RMruPU37NDj9mHAjo3Tr2mlIr96SyLoGmhWA/s400/012_RS_Beast.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390436258681542450" /></a>Hagfishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00695147533024986172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2127285464521425810.post-21404640422150217132009-10-08T23:16:00.003-04:002009-10-09T00:27:59.277-04:00Sixty-Nine - Drawing by Richard Sellers<span style="font-weight:bold;"><span style="font-style:italic;">Click image to enlarge.</span></span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCatPL3dSUi_DAzaUlhjFJqjjKGmursxD522Mthf8NeXIn-g7XZji2wTrSNy5vxFUonTijwmjhbqyRQJuOyhrtNSZNdzqp4gkr_Q9j0nOe8Cafmkk3CuHspJ3o8l_bIGpJx8Appky0trc/s1600-h/011_RS_Sixty-Nine.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 382px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCatPL3dSUi_DAzaUlhjFJqjjKGmursxD522Mthf8NeXIn-g7XZji2wTrSNy5vxFUonTijwmjhbqyRQJuOyhrtNSZNdzqp4gkr_Q9j0nOe8Cafmkk3CuHspJ3o8l_bIGpJx8Appky0trc/s400/011_RS_Sixty-Nine.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390434686155611618" /></a>Hagfishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00695147533024986172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2127285464521425810.post-81240933696549514832009-10-08T23:05:00.004-04:002009-10-09T00:26:41.086-04:00Floral Genitalia - Pen and Ink Drawings by A Murray<span style="font-weight:bold;"><span style="font-style:italic;">Click images to enlarge.</span></span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrsrmYHXsHfYJu3Zz3PZAaaZ0_yHhAePwnMT-4UEUphpYWi5vIjU-tMN7Mb6GKMUKzAXEzw_uTXlz40JL72j1AfQT2yJTekk5DdtH-V8jv1b5BQNKZylRB5beHS-DM7qJgQ1ZtBjor6fc/s1600-h/A_AM_floral_genitalia-1.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 313px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrsrmYHXsHfYJu3Zz3PZAaaZ0_yHhAePwnMT-4UEUphpYWi5vIjU-tMN7Mb6GKMUKzAXEzw_uTXlz40JL72j1AfQT2yJTekk5DdtH-V8jv1b5BQNKZylRB5beHS-DM7qJgQ1ZtBjor6fc/s400/A_AM_floral_genitalia-1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390431844000429586" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFNURfc7tCSNPy-0kqKbHuwsz3p5sDveh3aeO63oqccFOgs-GmjaPpZe6BIK9LJRnJniKnU5p7YNciQP8v6a0UfEL9OlKmycF02fbacEsVpXG4xDQ6PlVwzy8pIVQ-mAdbbLHgnIQzyxA/s1600-h/008_AM_floral_genitalia-2.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 309px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFNURfc7tCSNPy-0kqKbHuwsz3p5sDveh3aeO63oqccFOgs-GmjaPpZe6BIK9LJRnJniKnU5p7YNciQP8v6a0UfEL9OlKmycF02fbacEsVpXG4xDQ6PlVwzy8pIVQ-mAdbbLHgnIQzyxA/s400/008_AM_floral_genitalia-2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390433104515214034" /></a>Hagfishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00695147533024986172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2127285464521425810.post-87723847052599688672009-10-08T23:00:00.003-04:002009-10-09T00:26:26.698-04:00Solpugid in a Weird Warp - by Richard SellersPhoto By Richard Sellers. Manipulated by A.Murray with permission.<br /><span style="font-weight:bold;"><span style="font-style:italic;">Click image to enlarge.</span></span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNvoxIG-kTkd6llZnBYXVW766b6f8oI5mvXPILSGW7tO3VHcdeWWP3fujtNwt-FIEoW8DL2_mGY6GtQ8GPP9rHroaCjRtfyxmm_joROtVBBonbFiSp6jgJfUJtsXHupix0Lv6ztp2jBn4/s1600-h/009_RS-AM_Solpugid-Warp.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNvoxIG-kTkd6llZnBYXVW766b6f8oI5mvXPILSGW7tO3VHcdeWWP3fujtNwt-FIEoW8DL2_mGY6GtQ8GPP9rHroaCjRtfyxmm_joROtVBBonbFiSp6jgJfUJtsXHupix0Lv6ztp2jBn4/s400/009_RS-AM_Solpugid-Warp.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390429929087428706" /></a>Hagfishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00695147533024986172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2127285464521425810.post-22801898904873803882009-10-08T22:57:00.003-04:002009-10-09T00:26:03.737-04:00Aqua Scream - Early fractal by A. Murray<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvUKVZppkMN_mXOOs7eVlpZtEVwKMxEI15AQfZfOdBUheS__8gwpQ7wV6td3BZhyanWbPSH2Pp-nI5BnZEea8FxN5fvONvI5zdsbVa-GeXCNRTrd6h6hVNbNxHaUH5W9jQ7lJXC_VKfWw/s1600-h/010_AM_aqua-scrm.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 270px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvUKVZppkMN_mXOOs7eVlpZtEVwKMxEI15AQfZfOdBUheS__8gwpQ7wV6td3BZhyanWbPSH2Pp-nI5BnZEea8FxN5fvONvI5zdsbVa-GeXCNRTrd6h6hVNbNxHaUH5W9jQ7lJXC_VKfWw/s400/010_AM_aqua-scrm.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390429594260891186" /></a>Hagfishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00695147533024986172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2127285464521425810.post-40981733452464930842009-10-08T22:52:00.004-04:002010-02-08T07:44:08.975-05:00Oil Spill Drain - Manipulated by A. Murray<span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Click image to enlarge.</span></span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRdgA_WDEvxzryKm-bUBJYq6tZDBdPq_dHFcnpoL9sIVlz5zwjr0Kh1BDSff0gKlDFwy-JQj6ciXLfk9o00lV3qWL51boxjj1g_koLLyjtM4APBYoEPirR116E0YzjeO4Y3rHWmbo5_Zk/s1600-h/018_AM_Oil-Spill_Storm-Drain.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 254px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRdgA_WDEvxzryKm-bUBJYq6tZDBdPq_dHFcnpoL9sIVlz5zwjr0Kh1BDSff0gKlDFwy-JQj6ciXLfk9o00lV3qWL51boxjj1g_koLLyjtM4APBYoEPirR116E0YzjeO4Y3rHWmbo5_Zk/s400/018_AM_Oil-Spill_Storm-Drain.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390428313377079682" border="0" /></a>Hagfishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00695147533024986172noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2127285464521425810.post-11318231562620436662009-10-08T22:34:00.004-04:002009-10-09T00:24:20.822-04:00Rail Song<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8sFkq2PGablLvdOtqO-lL4V6dcRJbXHpa_3zUZiifCTbceQdCMGdyqsM9a1NI4alP6oyOmlsuP-uZBamJSZob7c5fIXEtzbZeb-FvXJkE6ypaaAGnfkdcQrJM5Hy9Doy01puMlovvAPY/s1600-h/rail_1+2.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 163px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8sFkq2PGablLvdOtqO-lL4V6dcRJbXHpa_3zUZiifCTbceQdCMGdyqsM9a1NI4alP6oyOmlsuP-uZBamJSZob7c5fIXEtzbZeb-FvXJkE6ypaaAGnfkdcQrJM5Hy9Doy01puMlovvAPY/s400/rail_1+2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390423858830628562" /></a><br /> Rail Song <br /> By Paul I. Freet <br /> My Grandpa rode the rails and drank cheap wine. <br /> The Gods abhorred the mix and finally got even, <br /> throwing him off a bridge onto rock and iron, <br /> and for years he healed shattered bones and hurts <br /> by telling of the long trains riding the night, <br /> their power and dreams, and of all the right ones <br /> he didn't take, and the slow sighs and lessons <br /> where the gentle willows grew below the tracks <br /> and the lonely river wandered bend by bend. <br /> I was some like him and dreamed too much of far <br /> places, and perhaps I saw a flame in his eyes <br /> that had not been put out by the dark trains taken <br /> in careless times. But I never rode the rails <br /> much as I was tempted by their slow dancing <br /> over the wide prairies, over the sweet land <br /> with it's long memory, across restless rivers <br /> winding in the rain. And the dreams of trains and smoke <br /> have haunted my sleep like hymns in the dark <br /> that speak of fierce, fire breathing Gods and cry, <br /> of special places lost in time and of trying <br /> to get there through frigid nights and white hot days, <br /> and always and forever the rails and the wind singing.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8bUyj-A4AxWvtBIzSXTJL-bPQQOdAceh2Y_jn5W_dKgOGHjkKzOrbgUxI9KwPrRYp0V_uME3ZMT9MO6Bf9f_cEdDgvO10lws7Et6zs8b2jhiq5G-Xlqtk_LdPd-UQA0W65vZ035dzxi4/s1600-h/rail_3+4.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 224px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8bUyj-A4AxWvtBIzSXTJL-bPQQOdAceh2Y_jn5W_dKgOGHjkKzOrbgUxI9KwPrRYp0V_uME3ZMT9MO6Bf9f_cEdDgvO10lws7Et6zs8b2jhiq5G-Xlqtk_LdPd-UQA0W65vZ035dzxi4/s400/rail_3+4.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390426165432487058" /></a>Hagfishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00695147533024986172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2127285464521425810.post-22393273467743229682009-10-08T22:29:00.004-04:002009-10-09T00:23:17.741-04:00On Being Poisoned by Chemical Fumes July 26, 2003<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ-7TbKvhgFaYihxJNPYUnFTQROwb38aYwOAWPJWcdoxeLHa0eMzInNyRUVHdSex0yRiEQkSTnvDhZ78qmOO0VIRX4MNzs0rUpBeLJfDaXj6QN1EVvDpcKI7T0pRCIow_smhmqqL7bCtk/s1600-h/Blk_Triangle-3.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 135px; height: 332px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ-7TbKvhgFaYihxJNPYUnFTQROwb38aYwOAWPJWcdoxeLHa0eMzInNyRUVHdSex0yRiEQkSTnvDhZ78qmOO0VIRX4MNzs0rUpBeLJfDaXj6QN1EVvDpcKI7T0pRCIow_smhmqqL7bCtk/s400/Blk_Triangle-3.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390425432779399442" /></a><br />I got very sick yesterday<br /> <br />something bad happened to me<br /> <br />I see the incongruity <br /><br />of being so big a person <br /><br />like a massive canary fit<br /> <br />to be lowered into a mineshaft<br /> <br />to test the air so the working<br /> <br />man might live another day. <br /><br />A. MurrayHagfishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00695147533024986172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2127285464521425810.post-81329746751518341432009-10-08T21:47:00.011-04:002009-10-09T00:23:36.098-04:00What Will I Tell Our Son?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijdHX1LDMDMRZZYtlcs_LZT_qCozGI5GPKWJzg8dXgiUx6-qyfI7FDyHyYbhqDf7avxEleLat15kUksKQMxhy900hBiXqtmRoCThH2DAOiQY7Hx9wyfAtO5MNCp0h4IGKCMJzJXwISUyY/s1600-h/pic_widow_x.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 172px; height: 290px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijdHX1LDMDMRZZYtlcs_LZT_qCozGI5GPKWJzg8dXgiUx6-qyfI7FDyHyYbhqDf7avxEleLat15kUksKQMxhy900hBiXqtmRoCThH2DAOiQY7Hx9wyfAtO5MNCp0h4IGKCMJzJXwISUyY/s400/pic_widow_x.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390412049133262178" /></a><br />You're lying here on the dining room table.<br />So silent. The stillness of eternity is in you<br />and on you, like an overcoat in the wrong <br />season.<br /><br />What will I tell our son?<br /><br />I fear you in this state of terminality,<br />in this bloodlessness, in this blanket of dust<br />that you came home wearing, along with <br />a hole in your chest, and vacant eyes <br />my sister mercifully closed before <br />I saw you here.<br /><br />What will I tell our son?<br /><br />I have my obligation. I must make you<br />ready to meet the earth; your bride of tomorrow<br />with her cool damp kiss. How can I do this,<br />when you are my husband of all these years?<br />You are my husband. Now, my sister's sure hand<br />removes your shoe, and I see the place I darned <br />at the toe of your sock, I wonder if it ever felt <br />uncomfortable. You never said so.<br /><br />What will I tell our son?<br /><br />I hear my sister's voice from across a canyon<br />calling me to help with your trousers, and I see your <br />long white feet are bare and innocent, and now my <br />sister will look at you with distanced eyes carrying <br />no desire for the body I so love, the skin I know so well.<br /><br />What will I tell our son?<br /><br />You have a scar I didn't know you had. Yet I loved you, <br />and I laid with you for twenty-four years, and kissed each pore <br />of your skin a hundred times over, but never once in the light of <br />the sun filled meadow. Now I wash your face, and see the lines <br />the years put there after the rains failed, and the crops failed,<br />and our hopes failed, and you went to the law and carried it<br />on your shoulders like a log too heavy for any man to lift,<br />until it pressed you into the ground with one sharp report<br />heard by everyone but me.<br /><br />What will I tell our son?<br /><br />You lie here before me. I trim your hair. I am<br />acquainted with your cool flesh now. It no longer<br />terrifies me. I raise your arm to close the shirtsleeve<br />at your wrist, and look at your wedding ring grown loose<br />on your finger, as has my own, the years having <br />consumed us in miniscule quantities <br />like a penance we paid without noticing it.<br /><br />What will I tell our son?<br /><br />The moon shines through the window with it's<br />terrible light; the lamps, empty of oil, <br />have burnt out and left their smoky scent in the air. <br /><br />Our friends have gone, my sister has gone, and <br />you are gone. I kiss your absent face. I keen <br />with insane grief, and without a sound.<br />I see my eyes in the mirror across the room <br />looking back at me - so pallid in my black dress, <br />in my frozen silence on this endless deep night.<br /><br />I will never be the same again.<br /><br />What will I tell our son, when he comes home<br />from the long horrifying war, home from <br />those fields of death?<br /><br />You were always the one to answer these questions<br />for me. You were always the one.<br /><br />What will I tell our son?<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgRmPbmnxsptAdb2EzdT2xMxYWJ94GT2oTZtQOsMB_Ziz6wSfLad53mwlZPvfRIlo2tiVaMZpXdXBnTgI9X0RP61ZBxKz51NDtUWzMnqF8hEoxweciHX-NXP-DUfSwQl9VNovSYmbYAHE/s1600-h/pic_tombstone.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 184px; height: 316px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgRmPbmnxsptAdb2EzdT2xMxYWJ94GT2oTZtQOsMB_Ziz6wSfLad53mwlZPvfRIlo2tiVaMZpXdXBnTgI9X0RP61ZBxKz51NDtUWzMnqF8hEoxweciHX-NXP-DUfSwQl9VNovSYmbYAHE/s400/pic_tombstone.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390413096792753666" /></a><br /><br />A. Murray<br />July 17, 2003<br /><br />This poem, unlike most of my poetry, is fictional. It is based remotely on a scene from the film, "Places in the Heart", and by the essence of both, "The Edge of the Crazies" by Jamie Harrison, and "Cowboy Poetry" by Richard Sellers.Hagfishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00695147533024986172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2127285464521425810.post-5730488211799310902009-10-08T21:32:00.005-04:002009-10-09T00:21:46.652-04:00Another Snow - 2003<span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Prologue</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Easter 2002</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDRa093UlxH2HlfUXXwPWXNEm1KsDQ1bR4x6q43er62BM07FPsd52tPWzDa-ulU8nOAmITrwQyDvM2q-B5MJzI8xh80dFfuUDi4FHEWXSAZ37jcqHrSH-2uzdjnnefsa9E0Wink9dh7nM/s1600-h/pic_stained_gl_lg_window.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 275px; height: 277px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDRa093UlxH2HlfUXXwPWXNEm1KsDQ1bR4x6q43er62BM07FPsd52tPWzDa-ulU8nOAmITrwQyDvM2q-B5MJzI8xh80dFfuUDi4FHEWXSAZ37jcqHrSH-2uzdjnnefsa9E0Wink9dh7nM/s400/pic_stained_gl_lg_window.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390408681520379794" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"> It is the morning of Easter.</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Across the world, </span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">rivers of blood spill,</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">and the mourning never stops.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">On my quiet windowsill </span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">an amaryllis blooms so red --- </span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">the color of a fresh cut.</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">An appropriate Easter Lily </span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">in the worst of times.</span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisS-Q0auXwS2C0T46ScKMd4U-VOV_cDC73Cxq-oJKym6reZCaPdnFQLiRgjHTCLmZx7etSzXHMFkSTvY0CAkGpWVe9PKgQLx8KzObEQvyFi_fjk1kr_3HAejhe4yRUfRByeCcmKDUTZJ8/s1600-h/pic_red_amaryllis75pct.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 226px; height: 229px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisS-Q0auXwS2C0T46ScKMd4U-VOV_cDC73Cxq-oJKym6reZCaPdnFQLiRgjHTCLmZx7etSzXHMFkSTvY0CAkGpWVe9PKgQLx8KzObEQvyFi_fjk1kr_3HAejhe4yRUfRByeCcmKDUTZJ8/s400/pic_red_amaryllis75pct.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390409521805366210" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">March 31, 2002</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Another Snow - 2003<br /><br />The fall is heavy. The branch<br />outside my window is white.<br /><br />A sky of milk. I look upward.<br />Again, as it was last year,<br />the red amaryllis is in bloom<br />on my quiet windowsill, pale now<br />though, and fading like blood<br />poured into sand.<br /><br />Last year I wrote the poem above.<br />Last year it was Afghanistan.<br />Last year it was revenge.<br />Last year it was Israel and Palestine….<br /><br />This year Iraq---liberation through death<br />What could be more liberating?<br /><br />Shall I become the first martyr here?<br /><br />Shall I place the barrel of the gun<br />into my mouth? Shall I hold it upside<br />down aiming it toward the palate, and with<br />the trigger guard pointing at the ceiling,<br />press harder than one who's never<br />fired a gun before would imagine,<br />sending a hollow-point tearing through<br />my thought process? I could leave a note<br />behind that says: "I protest the<br />carnage being laid across the face of Iraq.<br />I protest the real reason for the slaughter<br />of innocents. I protest the reactions of those<br />who say war is good…war is justified. <br />I protest the actions of those who arrest activist priests.<br />I protest the actions of school officials who threaten<br />some staff members with the specter of unemployment in<br />these hard days, should they speak too freely of this<br />wrong-doing, or, as in one case, for wearing a pin that argues<br />the point against war, in violation of the school dress code.<br />I protest against a desensitized nation that now<br />grows bored with the television coverage of the war."<br /><br />Shall I become the first martyr here?<br /><br />There was a movie about a woman who fell<br />in love with a priest. It was an impossible<br />affair. At the end of the film, the woman<br />walked through the snow wearing a long<br />dark coat. She stopped, sat on the ground,<br />opened a gallon can she was carrying,<br />poured gasoline over herself, and lit a match.<br />A martyr for impossible love. I was tripping on acid<br />that day…sitting almost alone in the Symphony<br />Theatre, with the walls threatening to devour me.<br />The movie priest sat and looked out of his window.<br />The second feature was "The Ruling Class"<br />starring Peter O'Toole.<br /><br />The snow is so thick. The petals of the amaryllis<br />have curled backward toward the stem in surrender of<br />it's brief lifetime. Pale pale, as the skin of the dead.<br />And pale as blood soaking into the sands.<br /><br />The gun lies in the drawer of the nightstand<br />still tasting metallic. And I write this instead<br />of scattering my own petals of brain and bone<br />across the white wall behind me. Outside,<br />the world is white. Here, the room is white,<br />and the color of blood, in my mind, is as<br />scarlet as the deepest sin against humanity.<br /><br />If I silence myself, I make a forgettable statement.<br />Ten minutes of fame across the screens of America,<br />then the ensuing boredom of the masses who want<br />a more sensational act to entertain them.<br />A man will sit and look out of his window.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisS-Q0auXwS2C0T46ScKMd4U-VOV_cDC73Cxq-oJKym6reZCaPdnFQLiRgjHTCLmZx7etSzXHMFkSTvY0CAkGpWVe9PKgQLx8KzObEQvyFi_fjk1kr_3HAejhe4yRUfRByeCcmKDUTZJ8/s1600-h/pic_red_amaryllis75pct.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 226px; height: 229px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisS-Q0auXwS2C0T46ScKMd4U-VOV_cDC73Cxq-oJKym6reZCaPdnFQLiRgjHTCLmZx7etSzXHMFkSTvY0CAkGpWVe9PKgQLx8KzObEQvyFi_fjk1kr_3HAejhe4yRUfRByeCcmKDUTZJ8/s400/pic_red_amaryllis75pct.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390409521805366210" border="0" /></a><br /><br />A. Murray March 30, 2003<br /></span>Hagfishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00695147533024986172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2127285464521425810.post-71393631442999640272009-10-08T20:55:00.004-04:002009-10-09T00:18:03.232-04:00Opening Dayslicked back yokels are hanging out.<br />the american legion color guard <br />belonging to the last millennium <br />stands at arthritic attention, <br />while other fossilized citizens are <br />schmoozing, killing time in the parking lot <br />waiting for the grand opening of a fine new <br />food emporium florist pharmacy gas station <br />butcher baker candlestick maker<br />monumental megamonster icon<br />of american life and healthy avarice.<br /><br />paunched pouter pigeon profiles <br />of rotary club good ol' boys mingle<br />with frizzled blu-grey hairdo ladies who<br />sniff down their noses at the welfare people <br />long haired men with biker fingernails <br />and unruly unwashed children….<br /><br />a newsman interviews the crowd <br />at random "oh, we'll be in the paper <br />this week joe" while the obese poor<br />stare on thinking of donuts. <br />the sheer tonnage of this crowd<br />waiting patiently for the new store<br />to open the door to paradise<br />could sink the QE 2.<br /><br />the local political wheel's <br />glad-handing his way through<br />the clutch of serious supermarket <br />bizznis men on cell phones with <br />bank accounts <br />bigger than the local fiscal budget <br />and mistresses without varicose veins.<br /><br />i am invisible sitting in my filthy<br />rusted out old Chevrolet<br />a big mouse, a gleeful witness filled <br />with pleasant vitriol.<br /><br />lucky the color guard is standing<br />in the shade. <br />now they move their creaky joints <br />forward in precision<br />their flags hanging limp in July air<br />the speeches begin then stop<br />then begin<br />i can't hear them until they all recite<br />the american mantra of today<br />i pledge allegiance to the flag<br />and the 24-7 business <br />one-stop shopping offering everything short of<br />brain surgery which we need to set<br />us straight again after being part of<br />this capitalist circle jerk. <br /><br />cash registers sharpen their metal teeth <br />while the god of groceries makes introductions<br />applause applause <br />the local pol in seersucker is "put on the spot" <br />being asked to ooze<br />a few words. <br /><br />men in cheap suits, <br />toadies to the power that gives them <br />their daily bread,<br />are grateful for a cool morning, and the fat<br />men's feet hurt while the grand ceremony<br />goes on and on.<br /><br />the bagel lady takes her bow and the<br />crumb bun man takes his bow and the<br />lettuce man takes his bow and the<br />chicken man takes his bow and the<br />butcher man takes his bow and the<br />toilet cleaning lady takes her bow <br />and the natives are restless. <br />mercifully there are no clowns <br />to torture us with jolly antics<br />just little flags passed out free<br />to celebrate ameriky <br />the land of the heap big spender.<br />thank god the american legion boys are <br />taking those silly military baby steps<br />violent action such as a march would <br />kill them, and half this crowd. <br /><br />the seersucker suited, pig-eyed pol <br />with his contact lenses<br />smiles his fine dental work. <br />the grocery god cuts the ribbon.<br />the fat consumers surge toward heavens <br />gate and in they go to big food land at last. <br /><br />welcome mr. grocery man.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;"><span style="font-style:italic;">Click image to enlarge.</span></span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwFbnRenVttBCcQ45cjKEUVlmb6-tpWE-QYiVh6_1luVV_bC7LzGEfGIm2DaBVmN2IXfmg3cSjv9mP0YqPc1fJlPE7WpIR0dk1mpZ2GSTaMq8a0TsfQa15lvz752t1baA3kH3dhb1xaIA/s1600-h/pic_supermart_arne_m.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 365px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwFbnRenVttBCcQ45cjKEUVlmb6-tpWE-QYiVh6_1luVV_bC7LzGEfGIm2DaBVmN2IXfmg3cSjv9mP0YqPc1fJlPE7WpIR0dk1mpZ2GSTaMq8a0TsfQa15lvz752t1baA3kH3dhb1xaIA/s400/pic_supermart_arne_m.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390399152276756642" /></a><br /><br />A. Murray July 30, 2003Hagfishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00695147533024986172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2127285464521425810.post-61549826766392114152009-10-08T20:53:00.003-04:002009-10-09T00:17:28.090-04:00Memories RevivedRichard Sellers on memories revived by "Opening Day". (Excerpted from a letter.) <br /><br />...I worked for Sleazy Markets about a week and a half after quitting Hinckley. It was an educational experience, and a little horrifying. I went in at 3:00 each morning to clean the floors with a propane floor machine that wanted blood. Wrestling with this monster gave me a bad case of piles. I think the damned thing was possessed. <br /><br />The owner, one John Stinker, took pride in his market. Wanted everything nice and clean, out front - the stock rooms in back looked like a sick rat's deathbed after a bout of explosive diarrhea, filthy and beshitted. I worked a couple of days a week in produce as well. The amount of waste that went on was appalling - the slightest blemish got an otherwise perfectly edible fruit or vegetable consigned to the trash bin. There was enough food wasted at Sleazy Market over the course of my week-plus there to feed a lot of people who could use feeding. <br />Mr. Stinker jumped all over me one day after I asked for some new pads for the floor cleaner, which had started scratching the floor because of the pads being worn out, so I walked out on his ignorant ass. A few weeks ago they had some human mascot from television commercials making a personal appearance there. Couldn't tell the guy from his cardboard cutout. The floor looks as bad as it ever has.... <br /><br />Names changed to protect Richard's ass.Hagfishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00695147533024986172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2127285464521425810.post-13057487470704460972009-10-06T23:22:00.005-04:002009-12-05T23:33:28.607-05:00She Fell - Bizarre Art by A. Murray<span style="font-weight:bold;"><span style="font-style:italic;">Click image to enlarge.</span></span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ4NN_pWW6jypxChvXomFeFpvIbM0Ojciaiy8VxRX-OshrV9vdm3Do-V7Qw_sxuVcH_FRcPfpDzN_sMq9xkwUmwic8PnsSwNIFFKJ2L0X_MjV9Or5Dv_6PjuQx9adIm-YgxkQnliBcrLo/s1600-h/019_AM_She_Fell.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 239px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ4NN_pWW6jypxChvXomFeFpvIbM0Ojciaiy8VxRX-OshrV9vdm3Do-V7Qw_sxuVcH_FRcPfpDzN_sMq9xkwUmwic8PnsSwNIFFKJ2L0X_MjV9Or5Dv_6PjuQx9adIm-YgxkQnliBcrLo/s400/019_AM_She_Fell.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389693722272269554" /></a>Hagfishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00695147533024986172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2127285464521425810.post-65598661742953505072009-10-06T22:57:00.003-04:002009-10-09T00:14:44.354-04:00The Beaten SoulMy heartbeat is silent,<br />tonight. A thing sensed,<br />rather than heard.<br /><br />The news headlines slide <br />across an anonymous <br />screen; a jumble of words.<br /><br />I read them carefully, <br />for this is a way of <br />justifying my anti-social<br />behavior, which I embrace <br />as I would a lover. <br /><br />I am submerged <br />in bitter knowledge.<br /><br />In Afghanistan, the beating <br />goes on, and everything is <br />the way everything was;<br />women imprisoned<br />for loving the<br />unselected suitor,<br />and young men<br />languishing in cells<br />as payment for the<br />price of stolen bread.<br /><br />The thought keeps swirling <br />through my mind, of <br />the punishing piles of <br />rock, baking in the dusty<br />heat, awaiting the taste <br />of some "guilty" blood. <br /><br />Floods wash over China... <br />so many are dead. <br />The name of a young man<br />I spoke with online one night,<br />haunts me like a sad ghost <br />wandering through<br />my shadowed room.<br /><br />"Jinzai" I whisper <br />in the darkness,<br />"Where are you Jinzai?"<br />But there is no answer. <br /><br /><br />Devastation seems the norm.<br /><br />There is a pocket of peace <br />here and there, but not here, <br />and not there, where waters <br />race against life; or in places <br />where the sun scorches <br />and burns every <br />living blade of green, <br />presaging a hungry death <br />for too many to think of. <br /><br />I feel my heart thump <br />in the darkened room, and <br />silence screams in my ears <br />like the sound of a world <br />hung in chains, shrinking <br />from the blows of the <br />bastinado to its soul. <br /><br />A. Murray August 11, 2002Hagfishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00695147533024986172noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2127285464521425810.post-50002954503782985552009-10-06T22:55:00.004-04:002009-10-09T00:20:26.170-04:00Seasnake - Manipulated by A. Murray<span style="font-weight:bold;"><span style="font-style:italic;">Click image to enlarge.</span></span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrzzmJNvzxeRw5uN7Sv8O3f_aNho5-XTaw1sm-G0StEdt6YR3tXvwhB-y1Z-mWtXxeMROogwOYLPgP2VVv1ygjSp5BhC7yhQIaK1RuF9Sv74NcNAVRJgVaEF6o3xofW97VD4_LA8J8GNM/s1600-h/006_AM_Sea-Snake.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 242px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrzzmJNvzxeRw5uN7Sv8O3f_aNho5-XTaw1sm-G0StEdt6YR3tXvwhB-y1Z-mWtXxeMROogwOYLPgP2VVv1ygjSp5BhC7yhQIaK1RuF9Sv74NcNAVRJgVaEF6o3xofW97VD4_LA8J8GNM/s400/006_AM_Sea-Snake.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389686638087611394" /></a>Hagfishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00695147533024986172noreply@blogger.com0