Dagobert
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Everything posted by Dagobert
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I El Nino’s gone, and La Nina’s betrayal offers little but dust and glaring sun to irritate and blind the eye of summer roaming Abriendo from drought-crackling grass in Henkel Park northwest to gridiron Dutch Clark past dark bust commemorating one of the Americas’ founding fathers of religious-political mass murder: dark Christopher Columbus across two traffic lanes from solid half city block of brick-incarcerated commerce, and air gastro-erotically smitten by doughnut smells, heat wa
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A poem involving personal experiences by Dagobert
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for The Beloved and in honor of Mevlana Jallaladin Rumi _______ First Leaf: "Radiantly Dark" I have wandered the moon-smitten byways of earth and not seen a divinity as radiantly dark as your eyes, and knowing this I am lost, not caring, for my mind is lost just as well… * * * … I won´t be found until the eclipse of divinity, and with an ache marrow-deep of spirit confess that I don´t want to be… * * * … intoxication too often leaves one ravished: the bittersweet aroma
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A collection of short, stylized prose poems by Dagobert
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I Sometimes, it's almost painful for me to not hate guns, since a gun killed one of my best friends and came close to destroying life for the person closest to me other than family. Still, I think of myself as rational. And hatred too often is an inchoate inferno bringing about, whether physical or not, a death and not reversing its annihilation with rebirth. It never does, never will. Ryan is gone, and Darren almost is, non-erasable scars of reality. Yeah, I know there are those who like
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A short story of love, murder and death with a suggestion of past-life connections and gay love by Dagobert
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For The Beloved ___ We love dreaming hallucinations of ivory towers out of fear of tumbling truly asleep into visions of doghouses and nightmares of Tinseltown-Princesses falling in love with the dog in the backyard... * * * Alexander... they called him Great, loved a beautiful soldier and a beautiful horse, kissed one and the riddle is: Did he kiss both? which one first and with the most ardor?... ___ ... pulsing... ... our blood thick with us together
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A poetry collection by Dagobert
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(for Tony Moffeit) I'm a classic and an original, possibly meaning I'm a pervert... I was born an unsolved problem, possibly because I'm too born-lazy to be anything but an existentialist - while I always have enjoyed existence and myself as my own circus. Everyone should tend to the business of keeping their noses clean by tending the business of keeping their noses out of everybody else's business. If one is ever needed, the best and simplest museum for homosexual sluts would b
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A collection of original sayings by Dagobert
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"Benim Ruhani Askim” (Turkish for ‘my spiritual lover”) for The Beloved “… I fell into the valley of my wound, a gift to me from my beloved and I am swimming in an ocean of its blood, the bitter, salted waters of life…” ___***___ (Ankara, Turkey) I A light breeze teased Tony Barret’s hair in the small cooling of late afternoon – while he felt a bit out of place but stimulated with interest as his dark-brown eyes traveled around the restaurant patio: ‘Just why did you fly
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A novel of love, a long history and murder by Dagobert
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( * Financially, Peter (Pyotr) Tchaikovsky, the famous Russian composer, was supported by Nadezhda von Meck, a wealthy widow, for thirteen years. Without a romantic attachment involved, they exchanged a torrid correspondence throughout that period, and Tchaikovsky was deeply wounded when Madame von Meck withdrew her support, possibly due to financial set-backs, perhaps because she found out about Tchaikovsky's homosexuality. Despite her reasons, one version of the story about Tchaikovsky's death
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A symbolist poem by Dagobert
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She hardly made it up to my shoulder. In fact, her hair - nearly white - almost seemed longer than she was tall. Her eyes burned black with a depth of lustrous fire. Her arched nose had an imperious length, and looking back I suspect that her face only appeared longer than it was. In profile, she reminded me of a miniature female Franz Liszt. They called her Lady Jo. And it fared only as a romance of spirit, with our juncture occurring at her age of 70 when I was a great deal younger and a
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A short story by Dagobert
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"Gut morgen," the young day spoke without needlessness of human syllable, and neither the new bottles nor steins - the beer glasses - made a sound, cradled by fresh sawdust in wooden crates carried by the cart rattling at a stolid walk over cobblestones cheeking skyward in the narrow street finding its way through medieval lingering; the cart-drawing horse lipping her bit, head bobbing in the damp air as her master, seeing too many carts and people coming his way, reined her leftwa
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An epic in prose poetry by Dagobert
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I thought you might like to hear about my life. I had one. I think that everyone should hear about other peoples' lives. And usually, people are eager to exchange life-stories like collectors at a swap meet. That's because everyone has a life. Lives are as common as flies, though human lives usually are a bit more durable. A friend of mine - an epistemologist, I think - told me that one human day is equal to thirty-point-six and a half fly years. I said it sounded like flies sure l
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More tongue-in-cheek flash fiction by Dagobert
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I am a city, a town, I am a city of poetry, I am Pueblo, the people of the city gave me that name, Feel my poetry in the rippling muscles that built me, Poetry is in my bridges, streets and houses, honky-tonk piano memories of whorehouses once along Union Avenue, Walk my trails and hip-hop to the jangle of tag-jazz in my picture on the levee along my river, Lift your face toward the moon above me and howl the Arkansas River blues that run soft and undulating in my ribbon
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A poetic anthem for a... by Dagobert
