blue coyote laughing

if my head were a waffle iron

my thoughts would be square

my neck would be strong

my cord would be frayed

my ears would vent steam

my mouth would stay shut until my words were golden brown and delicious

beets are deadly serious.

The beet is the most intense of vegetables. the radish, admittedly, is more feverish, but the fire of the radish is a cold fire, the fire of discontent not of passion. Tomatoes are lusty enough, yet there runs through tomatoes an undercurrent of frivolity. Beets are deadly serious. ~Tom Robbins "Jitterbug Perfume"

the punchline was, "...his and hairs towels".

 

A long time ago, the bluebird was a very ugly color. But Bluebird knew of a lake where no river flowed in or out, and he bathed in this four times every morning for four mornings.

Every morning he sang a magic song:

"There's a blue water. It lies there. I went in. I am all blue."

On the fourth morning Bluebird shed all his feathers and came out of the lake just in his skin. But the next morning when he came out of the lake he was covered with blue feathers.

Now all this while Coyote had been watching Bluebird. He wanted to jump in and get him to eat, but he was afraid of the water. But on that last morning Coyote said, "How is it you have lost all your ugly color, and now you are blue and gay and beautiful? You are more beautiful than anything that flies in the air. I want to be blue, too."

Now Coyote at that time was a bright green.

"I only went in four times on four mornings," said Bluebird. He taught Coyote the magic song, and he went in four times, and the fifth time he came out as blue as the little bird.

Then Coyote was very, very proud because he was a blue coyote. He was so proud that as he walked along he looked around on every side to see if anybody was looking at him now that he was a blue coyote and so beautiful.

He looked to see if his shadow was blue, too. But Coyote was so busy watching to see if others were noticing him that he did not watch the trail. By and by he ran into a stump so hard that it threw him down in the dirt and he was covered with dust all over. You may know this is true because even today coyotes are the color of dirt.

what if you're sick of your eye

and the way it sees the world?

what if you're sick of the way your feet walk

and your hand holds your spoon?

what if you're sick of the way you talk

and repeat yourself

and say things you really don't mean

to the people you love?

what if you're sick of your heart

and the way it aches

at the wrong time

and the way it loves

in the wrong directions?

what if you're sick of your mind

and the way it thinks

or doesn't

and the way it deceives you

or doesn't

what if you're (just altogether) (really, really) sick of your toes

and the way they end your legs

so oddly

so abruptly

what if you're sick of the way your hair grows

and the way your teeth bite

and the way your kidneys clean

and the way your lungs breathe

and the way your cells divide

what will you do?

will you cut your stupid toes off?

old wooden crosses

 

i've spent some time wondering why i took so many pictures of old crosses in cemeteries on this roadtrip.  and more importantly, posting them.

maybe my catholic upbringing.  maybe my fascination with religious icons.  maybe my morbid side...

maybe symbolic of what is happening in my life right now...

or maybe, simply, this was the best day of light on the trip and i just happened to be in an old cemetery at the time.

another cross photo from the lapsed catholic