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bellinink: Water Mill Sixty Four

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Water Mill Sixty Four. Counting cars on the Montauk Highway. Summer nights in our. Headlights on my bedroom wall and the story they will tell -. Of one mercedes, two mercedes, three mercedes, four. Water Mill, Nineteen Sixty Four. Raw potatoes on Rose Hill Road, Kicking cans along the way. To the black sand at Flying Point, bicycles in the hay;. Lifeguards at their posts, mothers at the shore -. Mayors make a toast to Water Mill Sixty Four. Convertible Mustang Fords, transister radios -. Deep inside the ...

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bellinink: Baby Blue Upstate New York

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Baby Blue Upstate New York. Strike another match, go start anew. November 5, 2009 at 6:17 PM. A full tank of gas on the open road and dylan for company. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). Words Out Of Rhyme. Deep inside the forest. Where the river keeps her word. And the mocking bird tells you. Every silly thing she's heard. To See And To Not. Under This Earthly Sky. This is the painting. Mocassins In The Grass. This Full August Moon. Something New Under The Sun. Baby Blue Upstate New York.

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bellinink: Remember This Place All Days Of The Year

http://bellinink.blogspot.com/2009/12/remember-this-place-all-days-of-year.html

Remember This Place All Days Of The Year. Among the faces, we claim a sun to light a path and mark the run -. That holds us tight in fitful prayer; a guardian to stand steadfast there. To keep the planets and stars on might. Our orbit together this sacred night. Remember this place all days of the year. Remember this face in sight of your fear -. For all that has been remains with us still. In eyes and hands and vigilant will. Make noise of your spirit, take care of your flight -. Words Out Of Rhyme.

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bellinink: Jupiter

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You have re-entered my atmosphere perfectly in tact -. The jeweled planet beaming its way across a cavernous, motionless sky. Snuffing the light from lesser stars caught orbiting your wake. In a most saint-like fashion, apologetic in your mission. It it not your crime to have emerged the gem of a galaxy. Recently reconstructed in the northern sky. Maneuvering at warp speed now through this temporary arrangement. Of moons and ladders scattered across my back yard. You survey the landscape and then retreat.

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bellinink: Baby Blue

http://bellinink.blogspot.com/2010/01/baby-blue.html

The highway is for gamblers, better use your sense. Take what you have gathered from coincidence. The empty-handed painter from your streets. Is drawing crazy patterns on your sheets. This sky, too, is folding under you. And it's all over now, Baby Blue. Strike another match, go start anew. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). Words Out Of Rhyme. Deep inside the forest. Where the river keeps her word. And the mocking bird tells you. Every silly thing she's heard. Further On Down The Road.

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bellinink: How It Is Day After Day

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How It Is Day After Day. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). Words Out Of Rhyme. Deep inside the forest. Where the river keeps her word. And the mocking bird tells you. Every silly thing she's heard. Remember This Place All Days Of The Year. Theyll Be No Fishing Today. How It Is Day After Day. All That Is Green And Blue. Seeing The Moon Tonight And Thinking Of You. Giving it all away. Cool Places I've Found So Far. Return To Main Street.

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bellinink: This is the painting

http://bellinink.blogspot.com/2009/11/how-many-days.html

This is the painting. How many days will trip by before you find me. Thick in my thoughts, sleeves rolled pacing the floorboards. In search of a word or meaning? How many brilliant ideas. Will have flashed over me in a wake of. Cosmic certainty - hours of jaunty disbelief. Idle conversation, Sunday afternoons. Before you stand square-jawed knowing at my door? Thumbed magazines, walks in the neighborhood. Undeveloped rolls of film - these pile up. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). Words Out Of Rhyme.

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bellinink: Something New Under The Sun

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Something New Under The Sun. Turn over this dry ground, soften the edges. Of these forgotten fields; furrows of intention carved deep-. Landlocked for some time now. Seep into this reluctant soil, laying fallow -. Unfazed by the moon. And all her suitors. On starless nights sleeping indifferent to March's wary howl. Waken this woolen earth. Non-expectant and turned, full of its own spit -. Yet, secretly holding out for something new under the sun. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). Words Out Of Rhyme.

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bellinink: Further On Down The Road

http://bellinink.blogspot.com/2010/01/further-on-down-road.html

Further On Down The Road. Further on down the road round the crook and up the bend. Left you surely thinking it was nearer the end. On the riverbank a conversation left behind,. Too much left unsaid sweet friend, words fall out of rhyme. Further on down the road where the owl does not speak. And the lark goes undetected and the willow does but creek. A moment wondering ‘bout it, little matters in the end. When the clock and swagger dangle and the joker brings his friend. Right then and there. There I go ...

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bellinink: They'll Be No Fishing Today

http://bellinink.blogspot.com/2009/12/theyll-be-no-fishing-today.html

They'll Be No Fishing Today. In the light of Sunday morning before the cars from the church. Pull onto the street and forget the word -. Before horns and hurry replace the breathing of leaves. Where thoughts float to the waking. I wanted to say what it was at first that now lofts like sails. On a boat beached in the rush of foul weather. Unexpected, like a jewel or shell picked while walking,. Shimmering with mercury and pure light. Burning a hole in my pocket, waking hunger in all its beastly forms -.