Waiting for Warren. When she heard his step,
She ran on tip-toe down the darkened passage
To meet him in the doorway with the news
And put him on his guard. “ Anna is back.”
She pushed him outward with her through the door
And shut it after her...
-----
she resides at
http://futureofmypast.blogspot.com/
Posts
9 comments:
x
"blush"
ahh, shucks...
One hopes you always remember to click on one's links...one likes to put weird things there, from time to time.
x
How did you do that?
Anyway, it was nice to see Man Ray and ses amis. They were - and are -such favorites of mine.
Is there yet another layer of hidden meaning? Why don't we pretend that I'm sort of slow...is there yet more?
Ah, in the fullness of time.
How did I do that? It's really simple, Montag, and you could do it, too, if you put your mind to it. I shan't, however, reveal how it's done, for I never tell anyone. I will be delighted, however, if you work it out. (I did, so I know you could, too.) If you ever see me signing in with a silly name, it's usually worth while clicking on the link - that's when I've put something there.
Man Ray et ses amis came about because you said something about an adventure, your Samwise trundling after my (silent) Frodo, and I went looking for a film of "adventure" and this one came up. I hadn't seen it before, but found it strange and compelling (although the pixelly quality is dreadful, I suppose).
Click on my name again. This one is for the barren wasteland of the Paranoid Archipelago...and now I *must* to that e**ay.
x
The Paranoid Archipelago is Goya without the blood shed. Just the soul bleeds, not the body.
So is this a link to my poem about "tough guy" poetry which used a picture of the cover of Ferlinghetti's A Coney Island of the Mind?
I do not know about that link clicking business. I just have "Montag" and when someone clicks, they go to Montag: howdy do, Montag. Wha'z'up, Montag, my man?
You, however, are a different story. If we click on your link, we may end up in some alternative universe - like the space quest of Zathura - where Max Ernst comes to supper, robots malfunction, and the economies work for peoples' welfare.
No thanks. I like my universes solid, not liquid. I don't want to go slipping on the goo of creativity into new corners of the worlds of dreams.
Nope. Good old terra firma for old Montag boy. Stay at home, and keep your nose clean.
Max says he's had supper already, unfortunately, but that he and Dorothea have always really enjoyed a game of chess. Because they are surrealists, they prefer it with four players - a bit like bridge, only not like bridge at all, really. Fancy a game?
x
Nice picture!
Only, the old number is not me. He is merely one of the many ancient luminaries I pal around with.
He is also quite deaf, so when I come upon him unawares in those early morning kitchen moments, he demands to know what I have done with his cat ( just out of the picture).
The chess pieces look like Max's own design. Some are distinctly familiar. Gadfrey, he was an unusual expanse of spirit! I guess that's why the frame around the chess game cannot contain him...or the rest of you sprites.
A game? I was just reading this A.M. about Bobby Fisher, and how absolutely mad he was.
I thought, hmmm...he's not so bad. We've elected worse to Congress.
Are you a chess hustler? I mean, if we play a game, are you going to say you don't know how the knight moves, and- say - how about making the game interesting? A little money on it?
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