is a tiny wandering imaginary dinosaur which migrated from AOL in October of 2008.

Thinking Lizard

About Me

My photo
Rhodingeedaddee is my node blog. See my other blogs and recent posts.


[6-16-2009 Update Insert: Most of what is in this space is now moot. I found out what I was doing wrong and have reinstated Archives and Labels searches. They do work. However, in certain cases you may prefer Labels to Archives. Example: 1976 Today begins in November of 2006 and concludes in December of 2006, but there are other related posts in other months. Note: Labels only shows 20 posts at a time. There are 21 hubs, making 21 (which is for 1976 Today) an older hub.] ********************************* to my online poems and song lyrics using Archives. Use hubs for finding archival locations but do not link through them. Originally an AOL Journal, where the archive system was nothing like the system here, this blog was migrated from there to here in October of 2008. Today (Memorial/Veteran's Day, May 25, 2009) I discovered a glitch when trying to use a Blogger archive. Now, it may be template-related, but I am unable to return to S M or to the dashboard once I am in the Archives. Therefore, I've decided on this approach: a month-by-month post guide. The sw you see in the codes here stood for Salchert's Weblog when I began it in November of 2006. It later became Sprintedon Hollow. AOL provided what were called entry numbers, but they weren't consistent, and they didn't begin at the first cardinal number. That is why the numbers after "sw" came to be part of a post's code. ************** Here then is the month-by-month post guide: *2006* November: 00001 through 00046 - December: 00047 through 00056 -- *2007* January: 00057 through 00137 - February: 00138 through 00241 - March: 00242 through 00295 - April: 00296 through 00356 - May: 00357 through 00437 - June: 00438 through 00527 - July: 00528 though 00550 - August: 00551 through 00610 - September: 00611 through 00625 - October: 00626 through 00657 - November: 00658 through 00729 - December: 00730 through 00762 -- *2008* January: 00763 through 00791 - February: 00792 through 00826 - March: 00827 through 00849 - April: 00850 through 00872 - May: 00873 through 00907 - June: 00908 through 00931 - July: 00932 through 00955 - August: 00956 through 00993 - September 00994 through 01005 - October: 01006 through 01007 - November: 01008 through 01011 - December: 01012 through 01014 -- *2009* January: 01015 through 01021 - February: 01022 through 01028 - March: 01029 through 01033 - April: 01034 through 01036 - May: 01037 through 01044 - ******************************************************* 1976 Today: 2006/11 and 2006/12 -- Rooted Sky 2007: 2007/01/00063rsc -- Postures 2007: 2007/01/sw00137pc -- Sets: 2007/02/sw00215sgc -- Venturings: 2007/03/00216vc -- The Undulant Trees: 2007/03/00266utc -- This Day's Poem: 2007/03/00267tdpc -- Autobio: 2007/04/sw00316ac -- Fond du Lac: 2007/04/00339fdl -- Justan Tamarind: 2007/05/sw00366jtc -- Prayers in December: 2007/05/sw00393pindc -- June 2007: 2007/06/sw00440junec -- Seminary: 2007/07/sw00533semc -- Scatterings: 2008/08/00958sc ** Song Lyrics: 2008/02/sw00797slc ********** 2009-06-02: Have set S M to show 200 posts per page. Unfortunately, you will need to scroll to nearly the bottom of a page to get to the next older/newer page.


Saturday, December 30, 2006


24 of 25 1976 Today 353 bicentennial year sonnets (352-366) - December: Year-day 352 "Christmas is near"/ the decorations say, dressing bare spaces with red white and green that hibernated a/ year since last seen, to prove once again one God's still okay. But I have lonely my flesh to display in this corner of hell, dark & obscene, where, facing the moon, I awkwardly lean from the chill regrets of another day. Seek to understand the jester in me; it will help you appreciate/ desire and/ the fragile ornaments hooked to bones. In the scent of a pine a moldy sea. The destroyer of love is born of ire. O rise from that past! where your spirit groans. (12-20-76 / 1-20-78 / 8-24-01 / 12-30-06) - December: Year-day 353 (#14 of 15 I removed earlier this year) - December: Year-day 354 " . . . the transparent children"/ Anais writes/ is what she calls the young, the vibrant ones, livers along the rough and heady heights peaking/ above the clouds. How each one runs! Insolence brews evilly inside me who doesn't want his champagne spirit corked. I still prefer/ to climb and/ shake a tree, to walk the weak prong where a path has forked. Tomorrow's tomorrow, and my regrets can neither be/ touched nor changed. Only now engages, rearranges, brims with bets. Just so, I prepare for words/ with a plow, pray suns warm, and the rain/ properly/ wets each seed, the plant it becomes, the ripe bough. (12-20/21-76 and 12-30-06) - December: Year-day 355 Spin the head. This is America. Death on a swizzle stick, on a strand of hash. Glazes of mist on the windy streets, breath clouds thinning in swirled snow, violent cash: Pandora's pandemonium. Still songs. Be warned: What sun comes up is upside down. Rugs, beds, tables contain our wills and wrongs. If you are a joker, I am a clown. Glued to a car of incredible blue, a life of attempts with minimal gain, institutions that no longer should do strike like pincers at my frustrated brain. The dance of a rule whose life should be through clings to another whose life should remain. - December: Year-day 356 (#15 of 15 I removed earlier this year) - December: Year-day 357 If I give You, Lord, my sexual being, if I acquiesce, what will be gained, lost? Loving a woman, a man: What's the cost? No wonder I sweat in my meager seeing. That toppled trunk, stretching/ across this creek, allowing me to dryly step my will so long as I can balance half-way well, engenders further dreams toward what I seek. Yet, trying to heed else, heed me, unsure/ how else from me differs, which one is right, perhaps we/ must expect/ arctic rejections of realms to which one/ can't become inured-- human thought (sadly) a cold bloom of night in prayed-for moonwash/ trapped in its reflections. (12-31-76 / 5-17-77 / 12-30-06) (Isn't insanity interesting.) - December: Year-day 358 Bad dreams of ice-crystal snows again/ burning the April flesh of my soul. (Education? A child must be shown how to know his yearnings and grow with them when the ways of his nation would change them; a child be shown how to save in a world that would steal his eyes.) The ires of the -40 white, wave on wave, swarm the dawns in my new heart, stoked with fire. Fires set against fires then my world's become until the green from me holds, frazzled Muse. Don't tell me my nation's right and I'm wrong; that it's better to spend and feel like scum. Too often my skimpy wealths I've ill-used. In sacred wedlock/ is not where I'm strong. (1-10-77 / 11-11-77 / 8-31-01) - December: Year-day 359 Christmas Eve, and the narrow snow/ wisps/ still round boots, paws, bushes, gravestones, my torn love. Whether I am a rattling pod above or that force which rattles, rapt to until, or something of both, my divided will breaks down, curses my unchangeable past and the seconds which leave much much too fast. Christmas Eve, and the narrow snow/ wisps/ still. Questions, questions. Answers, answers. Who knows. Even the God Who made me/ won't come clear. Just as I am, I would be His Son's dear. And if for that I will suffer Hell's throes-- charred on one side, & on the other froze-- I can only sigh/ for those who don't fear. (12-24-76 / 12-27-76 / 1-11-77 / 12-30-06) - December: Year-day 360 Merry Christmas. It's over; it's begun!: the pimple of hurt has come to a head; that partof my soul across which it spread/ soon will/ return to health, and sad hurt run and be tissued away; and I renew my energies to/ courageously work-- I wander long hours to learn what to do-- worlds provided for each powerful quirk. Talk to this person, talk to that, and walk. Sometimes I wish/ my fingers held some chalk I could write on the air with; but, no use: my minds will let me be/ only obtuse. I must spring from the field like a new stalk, spring from the marsh like a northering goose. (12-25/26-76 and 12-30-06) - December: Year-day 361 Faith: Believing that what is beyond one is also above one; that one, however, is of that; that one's inward eyes are ever smiling with pleased awe at the touch of sun one moves in and is; that no life is done, ever, no work; even the stillborn, clever, odd, the suicides, live on, cannot sever themselves from the whole, the glittering run. O plant a tree in memory of me, make of my body a sparse ring of ashes to benefit the ground around that tree; make of my bones and flesh a memory in the grassy earth where the chipmunk dashes, in the trunk, limbs, branches, twigs, slick green slashes! - - On page 25, among other comments, will be annotations pertaining to specific sonnets. Happy New Year. BAJS - - - December: Year-day 362 Confusion: me, 'times: a sign on the road changed by events, contradicting itself. Determination in the face of me: 'times; respect that will not let me kick the toad. The path up the hill, the path through the woods, the path backwards, the no path need; the shelf with that image of a me gone; the rhymes I walk into, urged to buy/ all their goods. Reason is reason, rhymed or not; delight delight. If you can't stand to look at me naked/ along a shore, run with your spite. Though I understand we cannot be free in a world ruled by selves/ where no one's right: open, close, as the flowers of the sea. - December: Year-day 363 Read, read out loud, for the sense and the sound: a canyon's long magnificence, the scourgings of its ancient river, the blare sun/ ground deeply into an earth shocked by its urgings these mean dry weeks; the men alive, then dead. Exploration is but the edge of growth, prime as it is, affirming that you've sped "what-am-I-missing" past, cursing the loath. Read, read out loud, for the mind and the heart and the ways they entwine, light against shade, water with soil, disease measuring health. Happily, it matters less where you start than/ how you move/ to learn where the words made/ must bear/ the ringing designs/ of their wealth. (12-28-76 / 3-26-77 / 12-30-06) - December: Year-day 364 To see last is to see first, and the Fate (ethos) confining Man because he is limited/subsumes but does not deflate his Freedom (logos) to answer & quiz nor Power (pathos) to make & become as best as he can. So Man's spirit does star pride, tease to believe Belief is dumb. He'll learn. It at least moves him past what was. Rune, I'm aware I cannot prove You are, that no one else can prove You're not; that leaves sparkle in wind-puffed fire, that rains shine rocks, that this gift of language as I use/ bar/ change// contains but one world. Whoever/ grieves and joys/ enters doors, regardless of locks. (I am not sure when the above was first written, and neither am I certain about any revisions, nor do I recall where the Fate, Freedom, Power ideas and connections originated from. Aristotle came to mind, but some 2006-03-30 searchings I did caused me to decide Anais Nin was the source.) - December: Year-day 365 All the passed spaces I've yet to fill, know, having failed to each day despite my pride, outmaneuvered by rain, sickness, drought, snow, and/or laziness, killer of the guide! All the sonnets, the dogdamn sonnets, twits, I'll still be in in March of '77, trying to prove I can beat time with wit, trying to create my own basking heaven! I tell you the world is inside out? Stay. I tell you the world is crumbling? Relax. I tell you the world's spun insane? Play. The universe collects its own dark tax. The universe pulses beyond us? Pray. In delicate souls, the delicate flax. (?) - December: Year-day 366 Year's end again. And if a world's, so. I'm no priority king, no sweet bee. I rate no praise for the heart I've let grow in an acid soil, in a fuming sea. So it is kiss & die in a closed room, trying to laugh at an uppity world: not even a spider can so assume, sensing how leaves and winds and claws have curled. Confusion? Uncertainty? Yes; abide. A heavy seed lodged/ in a granite rock once waited well over ten thousand years. More brilliantly than a slide rule can slide, more precisely than a clock can ticktock, try, try, try, Hunbruab. Unwind your fears. - 24 of 25 - Brian A. J. Salchert

No comments: