In Memory of Michael Pingarron and Paul Gleason Continue reading
This is an opportunity.
What’s our message?
Too many messages!
A little message won’t hurt…
Let us loiter together
& know one another…
by Harry Partch Continue reading
I don’t remember the reason we sat in front of Rite Aid that night. Someone needed a prescription filled. I do remember my mom banging her paims on the steering wheel, Asking, “Why did you ever become a writer?” “I don’t know mom. it was you and dad that bought me a desk for Christmas.” “That’s because your 6th grade teacher told us you had potential to be a professional writer. Not poetry, music and that other stuff.” She was visibly angry at the situation which brought us together. We were picking up pills for her husband Bob I now remember. It was the eve of his disappearance. Entering one hospital after another. Finally – allowed to rest – we surrounded Bob with the Lord’s Prayer. Such remembrance strangely triggered by a Leonard Cohen self-portrait – A drawing of his face – left lobe opened – in which he scrawled:
I never found the girl
I never got rich
– John Lunar Richey Continue reading