Thursday, March 15, 2007


We begin here – right here – a cornerstone in our minds – our thoughts like strip joints – B-Movie actresses scantily clothed – I’m Fred Astaire or Tarzan – You’re Auntie Mame or Holly Golightly – I’m playing the harmonica on a train – on a floating cloud – Woody Guthrie down the line – the Bulls are hot on his Freedom Trail – Woody’s guitar a machine gun – fascists must be put to death in every century – just listen to how the strings react to his nicotine stained fingers – he ain’t just strumming – we ain’t just square dancing – take your partner – your best gal by the hand and run through the wild flowers naked – you are a flag blowing in the unarmed wind – you are a gun bereft of bullets – a conscience actually connected to a mind’s eye – another killer strung up by his or her flimsy alibi – another execution caught on a cell phone and spread across the Internet like a royal-straight-flush – she stared at her reflection in the knife – the knife did not flinch – I remember the corner butcher – the prize fighter who was not much of a prize and I feel replenished
full of apples and oranges
full of smiles and laughter
full of fruits and vegetables
full of golden tickets and pink sunsets
full of inter-dependence and outer perspectives
bathed in mystery and more mystery we must stand our ground
be it hallow or haunted, sacred or profane
it’s too late to back down now

Charles Cicirella
March 14, 2007