pink cadillac

 

pink-cadillac-eldorado-tail-fin-jill-reger

 

Well, they tempt you, man, with silver

And they tempt you, sir, with gold

And they tempt you with the pleasures

The flesh does surely hold

They say Eve tempted Adam with an apple

Man, I ain’t goin’ for that

I know it was her pink Cadillac.

Crushed velvet seats

Ridin’ in the back, cruising down the street

Waving to the girls, peelin’ out of sight

Spending all my money on a Saturday night

Honey, I just wonder what you’re doin’

In the back of your pink Cadillac,

Pink Cadillac, pink Cadillac. – Bruce Springsteen, with a few changes ‘casue that’s how I like to sing it.

 

photo credit:  fineartamerica.com

from vox by nicholson baker

 

nightusa

 

“Sometimes I think of myself up in a satellite, and I’m looking down at America, or anywhere, really, but I usually imagine America, and all these little lights are blinking on and off, and each one represents a woman’s orgasm. That’s what ‘simultaneous orgasm’ really should mean – the awareness of of all those women’s orgasms simultaneously going on. Maybe the women who are reading while they come create a sightly different flare of  infrared color than the ones who are imagining something or coming in their sleep. I see them all.” – Nicholson Baker

 

photo credit: lovethesepics.com

 

 

the peace of wild things by wendell berry

 

Fuertes_BlueHeron

 

When despair for the world grows in me

and I wake in the night at the least sound

in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,

I go and lie down where the wood drake

rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.

I come into the peace of wild things

who do not tax their lives with forethought

of grief.  I come into the presence of still water.

And I feel above me the day-blind stars

waiting with their light.  For a time

I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.  – Wendell Berry

 

I stopped trying to write nature poetry after receiving this poem as a gift.  What was left to say, how could it be said any better?

 

photo credit: seagrant.wisc.edu

tuesday the 7th

17rul1enowtkwjpg

I worked ten years designing a small magazine and never considered myself an artist.  And I suspect it will take me as long, if not longer, to consider myself a writer.  But here I am, peddling my wares, my stories, a virgin blogger, curious and compelled to add my voice to a world that can’t stop talking.  I’m not at all sure what I will blog about (and I really hate the word blog – too much like blah, blah – probably for a reason), but please come back for poetry, a short story perhaps, musings, memoir.  I encourage you to write, to put your thoughts to paper, real thoughts, no hash tag snippets or insta-anything, but real words in complete sentences, for that is what led me, at least, to clarity and understanding.

Please take a look at a new, erotic fiction anthology, put together by New Urge, which includes an excerpt from my upcoming novella, The near Transformation of Claire. It is an exceptional cast of women writers and I am honored to be a part of this mix.

 

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