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Flight Plan

for Michael and Alana Jackson

Photo by Bob Gentry 2001 Stanyan Entertainment

A Thought for Today

Fantasy not only gets you out of reality, it brings you back.


August rainbows make a pastel strip that finally fades to blue. If you would catch a colored ribbon and trace it out across the sky, you should first know all the puzzle time works out. The properties of mist, velocity of wind, and whether sound is bouncing off the satellites and stars, or you are merely hearing echoes. In every race some kind of boundary holds the runner back and waits along the way. Don't let it stop the relay, but be forewarned.

Summer winds propel me forward. They always have. My first groggy Stearman ride a dozen years ago on an August Monday morning- six A.M. and sunup, cured for me all mile-high anxiety. What vertigo was left blew past me courtesy of Art and Art and Dean and Dan and others, with each balloon ascent in Perris California. Later in Black Africa, Ray came and raised us both a little higher on the scale of life. Though not Merton's Seven Story Mountain, man's seven stories of stitched together nylon is worthy of the wind's attention as God's right hand slips down to give balloons and the wingless men who pilot them a gentle prod. When Purvis takes me bouncing up above the plains of Perth, I'll add the winds of yet another continent to sky contacts now piling up.

                                  - from "Watch For The Wind", 1983

Details of Rod's upcoming concerts and appearances can be obtained via the link below:

Rod McKuen Concerts & Appearances

notable birthdays Desi Arnaz, Sr. o Sir Harry Blech o Marc Blitzstein o Jon Bon Jovi o Karen Carpenter o Robert Conrad o John Cullum o Camille Desmoulins o Mikhail Gorbachev o Sam Houston o John Irving o Jennifer Jones o Barbara Luna o Laraine Newman o Jay Osmond o Mel Ott o Pope Pius XII o Lou Reed o Dr. Seuss o Frederick Smetana o Amber Smith o Doc Watson o Kurt Weill o Tom Wolfe
Rod's random thoughts Nothing in the world is quite so bad as something we call "not so bad"

A sweet tooth doesn't always crave the richest cake. Sometimes cookies and a glass of milk will do.

If time was not a trumpet always sounding out assembly and formations, I'd let work go whistling and send out obligations with the garbage.


I have seen you
when your smiles and frowns
were so tied up and intermingled
that none - not even you -
could have said
with any sureness
what face you were giving
          to the crowd.

I have walked with you to subways,
then twenty minutes later
I have been with someone else
and loved you no the less.

I have spied on you
and looked accusingly,
when I, myself, knew well
that I was in the wrong.

I have wept for you,
                      about you
and one time with you.
I have shared your secrets
and kept private
secrets of my own.

I have fought with you
and over you,
loved you and disliked you
in equal parts
and at the same time.

I have thought
that I would die
if you failed to turn up
on some pre-selected night
and when you didn't -
wished I would.

I have loved you
never asking if I should.
I have trusted you
not caring if I could
        or couldn't.

In company
with strangers or your friends
I have smiled and gone on smiling
when I thought no single smile
                              or grin
was yet left inside me.

If we were unhappy
with one the other
why shouldn't it be
                         just our concern ?

I have watched you play
with other people's children
and felt they were our own.

I've heard you hum
some made-up tune at breakfast
and watched you killing time all day
while you awaited killing me at night.

I have lied to you
for no good reason.
I have troubled you
and even when I knew it
sometimes that didn't make me stop.

The things we do
in love's name
never stop surprising me.
I'm amazed that love
can live at all
through all the subterfuge,
pass through all the barricades,
stumble over all the obstacles
we construct and put up
               in its way.

That first seed
wherever planted
must have been a hearty strain.

Just now
what kind of passion
stirs inside of me
          I can not say.
I feel for you
and it's as much as love
but whether it's because
I feel you leaving,
slipping from me day by day
or because I need, depend on,
                    want just you
I have no way of knowing.

Our lives together
have become so knotted,
                            muddled up
that who's to say
               where the heart ended
and habit started in to open up ?

I love you - yes
but I don't mean for you
to know it.

                                - from "Moment To Moment", 1974

1974, 1983, 1986, 2001 by Stanyan Music Group & Rod McKuen. All Rights Reserved
Birthday research by Wade Alexander o Poetry from the collection of Jay Hagan o Coordinated by Melinda Smith
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