Something's screwy with my Word

Anybody know about this. It's when they show you the spaces with a little circle or put that paragraph thing for every time you click "Enter." It's driving me batty. I tried everything within my feeble powers (admittedly, not much of a computer guy. You'd think if there's one thing a nerd can do well, it would be in computers. You'd be incorrect in my case.) but I can't get 'em to just plain go away.

Went to The House again tonight. Guess who the surprise guest was tonight. Ahhh, c'mon, guess. Noooo.... It was the Ambassador. That's right, Queen Volt and all other CM fans, eat your hearts out. He played a few tracks from his album off an iPod and rapped along with them. They were nice. Afterwards I got to honk and wave at Mr. A and make him feel like he's supposed to know me or somethin'. If you're reading this, sorry man. I was just foolin'. Oh, and we did a semi-praise song and actually partook of communion. More on that in a future date.

The poem you're about to (or won't, or did already) read is in all actuality a rip-off of both a Pigeon John attitude and, simultaneously, a Simon & Garfunkle song that he copped. See if you can guess the song. Bet'cha can't! Oh, it's supposed to be spoken word with a singing twist at the end of the verse (the little chorus that ends, "loser"), but as of yet, I haven't performed it. So it's got some more kinks to go. Might as well try it out here.


Buy this album and get this man a hamburger.

My computer ate my blog

I had a whole post ready to go about how I changed my poem for the day, during the night. Which I did and I'm very proud of! Stick that in your pipe and smoke it... (Or not, don't want any unnecessary inhalation going on. Carcinogens and all.)

But yesterday I did say that I was going to write some more about what I've been reading and listening to.

I talked briefly (ok, if you hit the link you'll find a fairly adequate post) about David Dark, whose Everyday Apocalypse I loved and found, well, revelatory. Which is another word for 'apocalypse,' apparently. I still use the word 'revelatory' because 'apocalypse' is a word too closely associated with End-Times, Left Behind and all that. But despite my very convincing criticism on my well-read and highly regarded blog here (Megalomania? I think not, if I do say so myself.), I've noticed that no one else in the whole of the blogspot universe has him listed as one of their favorite authors. Now, maybe if I checked for favorite books, maybe I'll have got somewhere. But check this: Yesterday I typed in Fold Zandura as one of my favorite musics (the titles are really, Favorite Books and Favorite Records or something like that. But that's dumb!). A very obscure band. Made an LP and an EP about seven years ago. I don't know if I'd be able to describe them. Kind of hard-rock meets space-age meets Beatles melody and esoteric song-writing. One of the guys from that band joined Switchfoot a couple years ago as their keyboard-programming / second guitarist. I could completely hear what Jerome brought to the group. In regards to the Favorites-listing, I checked today. At least a dozen others had also listed Fold Zandura. I ain't angry with them. Fact, maybe I'll check them out (when I'm not busy responding to my truck-loads of fan e-mail). I just wish more people would read David Dark. He is not to be missed.

Of course, I believe that now I've run out of space in my favorite musics list. So now maybe I should explain why some of the obvious ones aren't on the list. I'll start with the Genius. Ray Charles did some flippin' ammaazing stuff. His interpretation of "You Are My Sunshine" sends chills down my spine. It's better than, say, Aretha's version of anything by Simon & Garfunkle. It's almost as good, dare I say, as Jimi's interpretation of Dylan's "All Along the Watchtower." Ahhh, I'll say it anyway. (Speaking of which, I guess Jimi's not on my list either. He may just have to fit.) It's the perfect swinging cover of a song that's sweet and innocent. He gives it a bite, a slightly explosive bite but still completely in the sweet vein. It's like putting some bottle caps in your mouth. Or those little fizz sticks, where you get a bit of powder and you put on the top of a flat candy stick and as you place it in your mouth it dissipates with pops when it gets wet with your saliva. The genius of the original Sir Charles is that he took a country song and made it, not soul, not soul-country, not typically Ray Charles, but something new and invigorating and exciting and yet down-home and comfortable all at the same time. He reintroduced us to "You Are My Sunshine." Behold! all songs are made new. That's to say nothing of "Georgia on My Mind," "Spanish Harlem" or countless other songs he re-did. Or his literal color-blindness ("That's funny, they don't sound white."). Or for his originality and voice-be-heard in forging a completely new style by incorporating, borrowing and stealing from several other (mostly American and African American) styles and being - many would argue - the best at soul music. How could anyone not fall in love with "Hit the Road Jack" (remember The Blues Brothers?) or "Night Time Is the Right Time" (remember Rudy Huxtable singing the blues part from the steps on the Cosby Show?)?

My hesitation for putting RC in my music hall of fame is, plainly, you've heard all this before. I don't know how you couldn't have. Have you seen Ray? I didn't. Largely because I believe it dilutes from the work of the man, much the same way almost any biopic does (I also haven't seen nor would care to see Luther, Bonhoeffer or Calvin - about three of the most important Christian men in Reformation and Post-Reformation Europe, three heroes of mine). But you needn't see the film to be barraged by these things in Ray Charles' life, things which unfortunately both distract from the music and which cannot be properly addressed in a movie of this sort. For the legacy of Ray Charles is really more about just the art that he leaves behind. It will also be about the shattered families that were left in his wake.

So, no, I did not neglect Ray because of these (admittedly grievous) shortcomings. I did not induct him because he was already being hyped post-mortem. Much the same way Johnny Cash was. Both geniuses, both worthy of more respect than I can give them. If you don't have San Quentin, what's wrong with you? If you don't have at least one copy of a Ray Charles collection (not the inferior late-period duets stuff; the real stuff, a singles collection or something), what's wrong with you? I'll give you about a week. Educate yourself.

Baby, what'd I say?...

Only a couple days to play Hipster Bingo

Quick!

The Bulls lost their first post-season series since the 90's and Jordan. I just can't... nevermind. Benny, do your thing!


You're too cool, you draws-wearing, slam-dunking, red cow with horns.




Kingdom of Warring Kingdoms

I'm not going to see the movie anytime soon. I'm not the hugest R. Scott fan, but I did enjoy Matchstick Men and his Alien movie (although Aliens was my favorite). It's been a while since I saw Blade Runner. I'm not averse to that film, I just don't really have an opinion on it. Gladiator was enjoyable, though not for the reason that John "Christian men all desire to be adventurous rescuers" Eldredge seems to say that I'm supposed to. I just thought it was a good story and decently told. And I love that line, "Are you not entertained?" Who doesn't?

But the reason I would hesitate to see Kingdom of Heaven is for the associations I make with that bold statement of a title. However, by the very nature of its subject matter, this work of historical fiction does shed light on a very uncomfortable part of the Christian past, the Crusades, pogroms, etc. However, this reprinted article by medieval scholar Thomas F. Madden uses contemporary research to put a light on what the Crusades were really about. I was flipping astonished. I really, really was. Here's an excerpt:

[The Crusades] were not the brainchild of an ambitious pope or rapacious knights but a response to more than four centuries of conquests in which Muslims had already captured two-thirds of the old Christian world. At some point, Christianity as a faith and a culture had to defend itself or be subsumed by Islam. The Crusades were that defense.

Madden then continues to abolish every old stereotype that I had about the Church's role in murdering, pillaging, and especially conquering and imperialising Muslims and Jews. Not that atrocities didn't happen, (they did and still continue to do so within the so-called "Christian" world).

I don't know or suspect that Scott's work will clarify this issue, or bring it to light. It's a movie and should be experienced as a movie - with all the Romantic trappings of a Hollywood feature in the post-PC era America. It's just that I'm in the midst of studying the life of Jesus and seeing that phrase manipulated so poorly to strike the phrase from Jesus' revolutionary views of the Kingdom of Heaven and land it firmly in line with the Kingdom of Heaven anticipated by Jesus' audience (people who praised Jesus in his ironic Triumphant Entry and later scowled at him for not meeting their expectations) saddens me. The Kingdom of Heaven is upon us and the violent bear it away.

Speaking of the Middle East, I was trying to find an article from the Reader (our very own independent weekly here in Chicago) about Al Jazeera, but it's not online. At least not where I could find it. You may have to settle for watching The Control Room, a great documentary - one of my favorites. Then maybe you can balance it out by watching some Fox News. I don't know. Just watch the movie, it's more realistic and revelatory than whatever other "documentaries" it's looped with (Outfoxed? Please!).

Laid to Train

he lumbers this laid iron road
lingers like a slow freight train
en route to a route
that speaks
a destiny–less a destination

than a coming

less a becoming than a
wanting

pupils dilate, in a room of dark desks they wait
peep holes adjust, throwing mirrors and light to the middle nest
purples so true, walls hush and crush to violate hues
people with eyes and senses expect movements of lines

almost horizontal, this stream of pieces
as if the world is slowly receding
it being laid down in a way not unlike
the way i was laid into in third grade
or the way my grandma was laid to rest
or the union pacific and her untold slaves

the sun has run its course and again clocked out on the other side

In no way do I think that all Mega-churches are bad

... but don't get me started. Willow Creek is coming to town. Soon. Downtown. Now, Chicago is big enough where we shouldn't have to worry about the competition. But the fact is, I'm referring to churches. With Wal-Mart, there is an upfront advantage to calling it competition. It is what it is. This, however, is the Church. Not to be confused with consummerism by any means. But that's what it's come to mean. Not for everybody. But for way, way too many people.

Is all they do bad. Nooo... I've got some great friends who came from some of those factory-churches. And they send down quite a few workers to assist us in our soup kitchen ministries. They have small groups where people actually learn about Jesus and opportunities for them to serve Christ. I'm not angry with specific Mega's. I'm frustrated with the patterns that are developing within and honestly destroying the American version of the Church. Greg Horton (Horton hears a "What??") is really upset, but I think he spills some of my frustrations with a clarion call to build the kingdom.

Donald Miller, Hero

For the last year and a half, since he's released Blue Like Jazz, Don Miller's been all the buzz - yes, the Cat's Meow if you cool hep cats are down with that - in the frays of the young evangelical movement. Actually, I don't know what else to call this spot. It's not like he's only calling out the artistic or the urbane or the hard-edged or the post-modernist or the outcasts from within and without the EV movement, but actually some sort of inclusive amalgalm of all of them. And the dude's published by Thomas Nelson, the guys who took over Word Music a decade ago and chased whatever cool factor they had left out of the CCM biz (a good thing, probably).

BLJazz was definitely a breath of fresh air in the taxicab of Modern and Post-Modern Christian Living books and received a lot of word-of-mouth on the basis of its conversational tone (a lot of it seems transcribed), informal writing style occasionally throwing out lines like the titular sentence (used, if I can recall, to describe the open country night sky), and neo-memoir style (there are no footnotes or direct citations save Bible quotations and most passages generally originate from a recollection of a conversation or, in the first sentence, someone on tv or something he read somewhere). Something that struck me (besides the aforementioned) was that Miller, despite being praised by the post-mods, called the "Emerging Church" movement out for its fixation on what is cool or hip or relevant. Actually not so much the movement as several eager church planters and churches. Not deriding them for trying a new thing or whatever (old arguments to be tossed out with, "Can God use the Devil's music?"), but calling into question our need to make the Bible look cool, make our faith, our ideas, our institutions look with-it and trendy and relevant to a needy world. Personally, I have trouble with Christians talking about relevancy of the Church. I think if anybody needs to question the Church's relevancy, they need only come to my neighborhood and meet my neighbors. Not the nice folks in the $1k/month apartments or the condos down the street, but the Lazarus' wandering around in front of them. Or the single mothers trying to do it all on their own. Or their children, the youth I work with.

But Miller takes it a step further than I did right there, which is why I appreciate him all the more. I just found Miller's fascination with Jesus liberating and infectious. It's radical that that would be someone's focal point in a work of this sort.



But Searching for God Knows What - released this winter - is a more fundamental work, a better book in my mind. It continues in much the same vein - these almost essay-like quandaries into meanings and our search for meanings. But it really tries to get at the heart of it all. As per Adam & Eve and their nakedness, he comes to a conclusion that them being in the buff and not ashamed originally is because they were completely being taken care of by love flowing freely to them and through them and around them by the Trinity, in much the same way it was flowing within the Trinity before - and after - Jesus came to earth. It was for the ensuing lack of love when they broke the covenant, or trust, with God that they needed a form of physical and emotional protection. Hence the clothes. The Bible makes a pretty big deal of Christ emptying himself of everything in coming to earth, and now I think I can appreciate that more fully in understanding a bit better that relationship.

And Miller's coming out with another book in August. Who is he, Prince?

I'll probably provide some nifty (*) quotes by Donald tomorrow - my day off - along with some music and book reviews. Haven't seen any movies recently. A bit of tv. Maybe if I get some time on Saturday, I'll provide you with a play-by-play analysis of the Bulls victory over the Wizzies. But I doubt I'll have time...

Healing Waters

i will fall like seeds

between the leaves

i will go under like these

between the trees and into the sod

and i will rise again

and shake my leaves

like these hands and feet

and breach the sky to the lap of the Almighty

God

i want to see you

i need to feel you close to me

i want to see you

Jesus, you’re the only thing to me

you are everything

and you’re all

i need

you are all

to me

this tepid pool lames

it sickens the maimed

death lingers its frame

surrounds the deaf, the dumb and the other odds

i will stir like the waters

where angels and otters

heal the blinded daughters

and the lame shall walk and praise my God

Happy Cinco de Mayo la Verdad!

I don't know what possessed me yesterday. I was in the coffeeshop and I was figuring out the date. And somehow from Sunday the 1st to Wednesday, I figured it was the Cinco of the Mayo. I wish I could blame something that slipped into my cafe - no special drinks yesterday - but the truth is, I'm slow.

Today's poem is owed a debt of gratitude to Terry Taylor who wrote a great song about the Pool of Bethsaida for his band DA (I think it was for the immortal album Motor Cycle). I wish I had a better poem that more fully expresses the glory of the God I serve, but maybe this is a way to express my broken - and oftentimes lame - attempts to praise him.

As Kip says in Napolean Dynamite:
Peace out.

And that's me, playing Bach as a baby...

You'd think I'd be more excited about this than I am. But I finally found some old baby pictures. My newbie friend, Voltonic, got me all excited about this on her blog this morning. I go looking and this evil-looking picture is all I can find. Pssshh! I'm going to bed.


da-da-dah-Duuh!


Migrant

clouds bitter poison
inert darkened rain

my back is dampened,
moist like the lips of my mama
like the eyelids of my papa

“Greasy!”

a new word, a new mindset
to view myself, my kids
my parents and wife
to be known this way

i worked my way

to enter this place
to be received this way
?

clouds bite the chosen
insert darkened rain

now things dry down
die down in this deserted town
lie down for the taking and the raping

“Dirty!”

shout from the rooftops
the roof’s torn down
taking it to the streets
the mean old way

clouds choose to give life
i choose to stay inside

!Feliz el Cinco de Mayo!

Again, my practical Spanish, heck my anything Spanish, es horible'. But I thought I should put an explanatory disclaimer before my next poem post. It's called "Migrant" and it's probably one of my most politically-charged works. Which means that, simply, I don't do politically-charged works. So, I tried to make it personal. And I wrote as somebody else's voice. Some of my more political colleagues may disparage that, but I'm sorry, isn't that what a writer's supposed to do? Use other people to frame a voice, often the voice of the disenfranchised? I should clarify, I don't often speak in the language of power - politics - but I often have it as a sort of influencer, the idea of justice and truth.

Others may find some of the vocabulary in the poem unsettling. Good, I think, because so is our everyday approach towards the outsider, the alien, the migrant. It's evident in our language as USA'ers calling others 'foreigners.' There's a dirty word to make you feel welcome. Or our suspicions of illegals. I'm sorry, but we've all moved. Most of our ancestors have moved into new lands, conquered other people groups, etc., etc. Anyway, enough of the politics. It's just human nature. On with the poetry...

Oh, and tomorrow's Cinco de Mayo. Tomorrow being the Fifth of May.

Unless the Lord build the House... WHAT??

Chicago's fave youth pastor, Phil Jackson (no relation, trust me, I've seen his car), and his upstart hip hop church, the House, were featured on Chicago's Very Own WGN News the other night. Despite the forewarning I got, I missed the episode (probably blogging, but I almost never watch the news anyway). But here's the transcript.

I was at this particular service. They do a similar, sex-themed episode probably once a year. It was brutally honest. And grotesque. They showed pictures of infected genitalia, both male and female. I wonder if they showed those on the tele. It was also the first time my pastor (who also knows Phil) came to one of the services with us. It's a bit telling that he enjoyed himself - he understands crudity for the cause. But it's also telling that The House advertises itself as having explicit content and appropriate only for those 12 & over. We joked, when they first started that, that "All y'all 11 and under, you gotta leave. You're too sensitive. Y'all 12 & over, y'all need to hear this. Y'all freaky. Y'all stayin'."

Plus, they've had at least two concerts with Cross Movement (more than packing out both times) and have given space for newer groups (at first I didn't like the CM-posing that I heard from Holy Culture [i.e., the name], but now they've got their voice. I'm'a buy an album). So, props to all the kids and prayer warriors (I see you, mamas) holding down the fort for Christ and the streets melding in the Church and the prototype at The House.

Holler at a playstation.

On why being an urban youth worker is so different

I had a difficult time explaining why in the world urban youth work is so different - and needs a support structure outside the normal frame of youth work in the Church (read: suburban / sub-rural / middle-class / upper-class churches where everybody has a car and parents aren't burnt-out). Hopefully, this excerpt from the Center for Youth Studies may shed some light on the situation in a way that I'm not sure I could (it's hard to look at such things objectively when you're from and a part of the mechanics at play):

social system centers explained

The important principle that “it takes a village to raise a child” needs to be updated. It takes a family, a community, schools and activities, peers and media to raise today’s child. In many cases, a faith congregation, youth group, or part-time job are also part of the picture. All these social systems function within larger society and the spirit of the times.

The greatest flaw in the way we deal with young people—and especially with their problems—is in acting as if each social system is its own world and that issues can be resolved alone within any one of them. Rather, school problems are related to home and community situations. And media and friends are taking over much of the traditional function of family and schools. And all are affected by economics and governments.

We must commit ourselves to “systems thinking,” a strong recognition that all social systems are interacting and influencing the others, that causes sought in a singular way and solutions proposed from a single perspective may not only fail but be counterproductive.

That is why this Center for Youth Studies web site commits itself to portraying a dynamic interaction of social systems and seeks to explain behavior by taking into account what is happening at home, on the streets or in the mall of a community, in schools and activities, among friends and in the media.

I'm interested to see what all they may have to offer.

Father (and friends) forgive me

Been thinking of the ways I've hurt my friends. I don't know if I've been belligerent. I don't know if it's because I've been bullish or just full of bull****. In each case I've genuinely tried to be speak the truth in love, standing firm in what I believe God was calling me to while giving leeway for interpretations, disagreements, compromise, etc. See, it all makes sense in my head. I may have a great idea. I don't pretend to have the best idea or the only idea or one that can't be bent or broken...

Before I go on, there's just so many factors in any given relationship that to delve into any further detail - when I can barely talk to my friends about it (more on that later) - is to invite folly to eat with us at the dinner table. Thing is, I've been chided, or nearly chided, by my friends and have said little-to-nothing. I have enough wisdom to keep quiet during those moments, I suppose. I don't have enough wisdom to navigate those moments (I don't believe that they should always be avoided. I just feel like such a goomp that they happen so often around me and that I tend to be the instigator. That's the problem!). I feel like I should say something or do something to make them aware that I do value them, that I do love them. But saying such is not going to cut it at those points. It comes across as hollow and I would use Love's name in vain (against the Ten Commandments), wedging us further apart.

It's at times like this that big sis says something to soothe the male, savage beast in me. I wonder aloud (or a-writing) how much of these lyrics about these ignorant bullocks describe me:

It took me a little while to discover / Wolves in sheep coats who pretend to be lovers / Men who lack conscience will even lie to themselves, to themselves / A friend once said, and I found to be true / That everyday people, they lie to God too / So what makes you think, that they won't lie to you

Forgive them Father for they know not what they do...

Forgive me Father, sisters, brothers. Thank you, Lauryn.

Commodity of Love

the obvious question is what does it sound like

is it a sonnet sung from the world of old,

a duet fitting a shepherd and his nymph

a jaunty sunny whisper in sweet earlobes,

the breath he breathes postulating her kiss

but that’s not my aim today, for love–holds–

i’m sure we have an idea, we’re not stupid

i desire to know how to teach such a thing

that’s been pimped about and sold sully so

how dun are its breasts, how bitter her sting

wronged so, beaten so, raped so, bullied so

her reputation in the common markets

brandied about at all the latest kiosks:

cheap Love‘s Doves, Love’s Tokens, Love’s Bracelets

tables turned over by the spurned lover, Jesus.

the pertinent question is what does it cost us

A little on the musak tip

Finally, I figured why nobody ever visits this site:

"If I'm dope you'll hit the web / and it will spread / like butter when it hits the bread / But, if not, you'll spread that too / and I bet that you'll / head-up the heads that boo (boo)."

From "Jerseys and Fitteds" by the superb CM.

Oh, and my fears of Ambassador's new solo may be allayed. They have a real, and really good, DJ now.

And this piece of news on my new faves, Arcade Fire. Two true musical giants laud them and it could only get better if they toured with U2 and rekindled their Unforgettable Fire, or gave Sir Paul his Wings back, or helped Little Stevie find his long-lost Songs in the Key of Life. Enough of the bad musicology! The greatest Davids since the original, inimitable psalmist-cum-archetype king - Bowie and Byrne - are big, big fans. Yes. Byrne did "Naive Melody" with them (Y'know, "Let the days go by / Let the waters going down." OK, I screwed up the lyrics and the songs been used in two of the worst movies I care to recall, but still, in-flippin'-credible). Bowie, for his part, "raved about Funeral on his Web site, calling it the 'album of the year,' and told Rolling Stone he'd bought a 'huge stack' of the CD to give away to friends." I got chills thinking about that. I hope you're a friend of Bowie's. If not, bite the $15 bullet and hitch-hike to your local record or elex shop.

All together now: Under Pressure... (to the tune of "Ice, Ice Baby.")

Since the Bulls are down... again

Because I don't feel like going out to watch the game or even going home to listen to the game (who can afford cable during this anti-climatic depression?), and because I'm still depressed about my missing stuff, I'm gonna do a bit more blogging tonight. And since I already talked about forseeable changes to the Muppets, here's something to whet your whistle all you Fast Food Nation people. Cookie Monster is a recovering cookieholic. That's right, to paraphrase Homer, "Cookie Monster loves cookiehol!"


Sorry, Cookster!

Larknews.com has done some investigative reporting into the world of the Purpose-Driven Life-heads. Beware the Warren-nites; they're always searching for that ultimate small group experience!

Archived reportage on the continuing trends of trendy upstart and mega-churches have uncovered this story of a would-be theater-goer and this of super-commuting church customers. And, if you love the non-marrieds in your church, you might want to read this story of how a little name change in ministry can work miracles.

Apparently, one movie reviewer represents the whole of the religious right (Whatever that means. I think some poorly misinformed journalists speak of all American Evangelicals as merely being pawns for one or two figure heads, Falwell, Dobson, etc.) . But this guy, Bob Waliszewski, director of Plugged In Film Review, spoke against the upcoming movie Kingdom of Heaven and now apparently we all hate it because we're not smart enough to judge for ourselves. Who are you, Bob Waliszewski? Actually, I don't blame him, I blame John Harlow, Mr. Oblivious for the London Times. His example proves that all of London hates Christians. They're anti-Christian bigots. Let's get them.

And remember, you heard it hear first.

*And remember, if you can't tell the difference between reality and satire, that's a sad, sad statement on our society, right little Irish babies? But don't hurt anybody, or eat any babies.

The Day My Body Cried

skin over my joints

breaks like the missouri – streams

trickle through and from

slowly making way to the valley of my thumb

dermis over my lobes

red like the georgia soil – vital

in the frozen mud

underneath dirt, underneath blood

skin over my bones

shake like the bay area – beams

crack when andreas tickles

stalks stand on end expecting sickle

white as down, my bones

brace like minnesota – needing,

greeting the coldest days

to sieve the sleepy pale from my face

Jasonational Poetry Week

It was actually a joke. I said I'd be here all week. (HaHa! Get it? You know, like those bad Las Vegas... No? Oh... Too bad...) But I decided later this very day that maybe I should post a bunch of my stuff, one every day for the rest of the week. In the process, I may even compose one while I'm typing it (Honestly, I know this is heresy on the cyberspace [talk about Old School], but I still prefer pen and pad).

And, yes, this is another lame attempt to get people to turn onto my blogspace in utter fascination every morning. Of course it will work, says the naive dummy, not aware that in general people don't like poetry and are not surfing the web for words, but smut.

The one that follows this post (er, precedes, depending on your perspective) I wrote a couple of mad-cold winters ago. This winter in the Chi things were really mild, so I saw no reason to post it. But, dang-gone itch'all, it's been a butt-cold spring. Tomorrow and the following are supposed to be warm, so I'll get this one out while it's still semi-apropos.

Oh, and one more thing. I liked using space, at least subtly (or I thought it was subtle) for my works. This blogging conduit doesn't allow me to do that, to use space in terms of tabs, etc. I still don't know how to use colors all that effectively (I think in terms of concepts. Now, see if I was Jimi Hendrix, well, I guess I wouldn't be alive now. But when I would have, I would see and think in colors. And mushrooms. And puppy dogs with giant heads. "When all the castles/ fall in the sea / Let it be / Let it be.") nor size of font - at least not for poetry. So I think all my poetry will look more boring than how I want them to look, which I guess is cool, because I don't want to upset the balance of this blog.

Peace.

Enjoy.

Or else.