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BEING WARM AGAIN
for Michael and Alana Jackson |
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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
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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 |
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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.
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INNER WORKINGS |
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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 |
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