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

Thinking Lizard

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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.


Sunday, March 25, 2007


Venturings ----------------------------------------- Though the following 41-part work is neither about nor for a someone bearing the name revealed in its title, it was inspired by a conspicuously-placed note/ from the co-worker who was so named. She was keeping track of her remaining days of employment at Holiday Inn-UC. She was a University of Florida student who was about to graduate; and--as to me-- I was born in 1941. 3-21--02 and 8-13-06 Brian Salchert ----------------------------------------- "The Forty-One Days of Kim" 1. And when the winds slit the dawn, gulls cried. 2. There was a once once, wasn't there? 3. A leaf so large, parched as it was, I dreamt it had from Atlantis come. 4. Tell me-- if you care to-- the directions you were given for releasing the past. 5. Such a maplenut heart, such a bittersweet soul continuance has! 6. On the trim of your scarf a ladybug waits for a reason to fly. 7. And, as I turned my head, an ivory full moon peered at me between the shade's curled edge and the window frame. 8. Be thou imperious as the live oaks; be thou conceding as the fireflies. 9. Sand breaking against my face, I am made to be still, to contemplate a scintillant white behind my/ shuttered eyes. 10. And where he walked, cattails stood. 11. And she who remembered everything broke from following him. 12. Silly, is it? Laugh then. Breezes do. 13. A feather? What is that to a chicken with its/ head chapped off? 14. Please, do not touch me. 15. Words/ scattered: colors, sounds, odors, tastes, the corked bottle bobs eternal. 16. Think not/ lest thou be tormented by termites. 17. Under that rock?! Yes. But--. Git! 18. Oh yah, you're sorry. Forget it. I'm not sorry about anything. I'm damn glad. I thought so. 19. Then, the proud one, seeing on the mowed lawn the song sparrow, dead, kept, being not so proud as some-- forever in his heart-- his error, his regret. 20. Walk softly where the troll sleeps. 21. Do you ever wonder why happening upon a miniscule yellow blossom made you smile? 22. Are you pleasedGod sometimes streaks your dungeon presents with cardinals? 23. So tired am I of hearing: "You can be whatever you want to be." So tired am I of hearing: "Find your passion." Follow your dream." Where the heart is, success is. So tired am I. --- Forget untethered optimism. Forget fame. Forget fortune. --- Out of who you are; out of what you've been given, deepen your self-understanding; reveal a self of maturing worth. That do. 24. Rancid remembrances? Only as hope does the future exist. Inspirit the now, the unending now. 25. Fate? Destiny? Supreme Love. 26. His wife, some while ago shocked to an unfamiliar consciousness, began, and continued, to see the slender sunlight mirages outside the window across the space from her recliner as icicles. 27. He who cannot be humble cannot be/ anything. 28. So, because of his jitters, he was totally in the wrong season on a homophone test; and so, because he/ is/ an INFP, his bleeding ego will not cease troubling his psyche with its sticky red. But does God care how well he didn't? Not a poop in a scoop. 29. Tell Dad I remember the smoke rings and the Graf Zeppelin stamps, and stretching the strings to keep the seed rows straight, and mixing the cement, and digging the postholes, and the weekly injections that kept me alive, and going to church, and the birds in the trees, especially the Baltimore Oriole. Tell Dad I remember love. 30. Entering his Metro, he heard a bzzzz coursing toward the passenger side. It! A bee? Likely, yet--. Stretching, he jarred the door, but the creature was ticking the window's top; so, one crank, & it flew/ free. Thank You, Lord. 31. Heading back to his vehicle at another place, a small grey animal like a mouse--he thought it was a mouse until he got close enough-- held his attention. Huh! It's a mole!* Not wanting to kill it or let it get killed, trapped as it was in this parking lot with concrete edges; still, not wanting to touch it either, he coaxed it around with his walking stick, taking/ extra time with it-- the rolly critter, often on its back, its feet flailing-- when it got up against a car wheel bumper it didn't seem to want to get away from. Finally, with the help of a couple broken pine twigs, he catapulted the estranged mole onto the pine-needled ground above/ where immediately/ its sharp- clawed feet/ dug in. 32. Where the circle ends, the circle begins. 33. Today I cleaned her glasses. --- It had been a while, and it took me a while. I had to use streams more water than usual, and wipes of several textures. --- They are back in the drawer where she keeps them at night. 34. On the Classical station-- out of ever again the goodness of God-- Ferde Grofe's "Grand Canyon Suite" reaching into my childhood, infused as it was with limited but strong music and comprehensive books: birds, wild animals, words, worlds. 35. Just as the Gevanthaus Orchestra of Leipzig conducted by Paavo Jarvi began playing Dmitry Shostakovich's "Fifth Symphony" I began praying the first decade of the The Sorrowful Mysteries of the Rosary: The Agony in the Garden, The Scourging at the Pillar, The Crowning with Thorns, The Carrying of the Cross, The Crucifixion and Death. Finishing somewhat ahead of the symphony's end, I filled that time/ both listening to the music/ and meditating on: the conditions of Man and the expressions of God. It was illuminating to know/ that that concert lived in 2001 on the eleventh of May, and that it was from the 13-concert series: "Pure Joy is a Serious Matter". 36. Rain/ with assurances of rain; and she/ gone: to the ever-after/ as the maple leaves: yellow, red, brown, drenched. 37. Early that night, his attention diverted by several kids, he strode from whatever it was he was doing/ and wrote: ~ "To Kids at Night" I don't care if you peek 'n' poke with your tat-a-tat smoke; but really, no joke, like the wondrous heart of an artichoke, go and enjoy; do not annoy, do not remind me of my young days and knocked-window ways; go jive and juke, sweet ghost, sweet spook, your improvised part where peace canstart: with I do care. 38. And then one midday the cat (unaware to him) was on the TV and about to jump-- as she liked to do but had long been prevented from doing-- onto/ the top of the door he had open too long because he was involved with his wife in a discussion concerning getting the mail and going to McDonald's; but which discussion, having concluded, he closed the door; and the cat, in a streak of anger, attacked & bloodied his right leg. So, now, she-- so often pleasant, but never to be trusted-- is in a ten-day quarantine, and will not be coming back. His wife? Deeptears. Deep disgust. It wasn't enough he had long been agrand disappointment; he now had to take/ take away that being she most loved. Would she now finish what the cat began? Or/ the cat? 39. Memories. The University of Iowa: 1965, '66,'67. There I was: in the Poetry Section of the Writers' Workshop; yet that day I was in the Math Library/ seeking a geometric proof of Fermat's Last Theorem; reading about Georg Cantor, and dreaming up/ Axioms on Infinity. 40. Somehow, it seems, I always live in a somewhere that does not exist. 41. Everyone went to Hell; but at the tolling of a bell everybody went back out/ to have a cup of sauerkraut. ---------------------------------------- * 12.24.05 ~ See line 8 of 31. (Possibly was a shrew but more likely was a deleterious vole.) Information before me reads: © 4-15-02 Brian Salchert -- around 3 months before my companion wife passed. ----------------------------------------- Brian A. J. Salchert

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