Wednesday, March 23, 2011

SAlmon Run





     I was in a river in Alaska. The salmon were swimming upstream to spawn and I was there to eat them. I was naked and in the company of huge brown bears. They did not treat me as an intruder, even though I was different in appearance to them. I snapped at the silvery fish, huge, slimy. I plunged my face into the water and feel the fishes body yield under my teeth and struggle and break and I headed to the bank to hold down the fish, still flexing still breathing as I sunk my teeth into itsts side and tore off red slabs of sweet delicious flesh. The weather was over cast, and it rained on me as I ate. The salmon was heavy with eggs and I relished the salt the richness of each one. I roared when one of the bears tried to take my catch. He bared his teeth and mine snapped open and shut after i finished my roar. He walked on, and I retreated to the forest as the sun began to shine though it continued to rain. The mountains and the streams were familiar they were my home and they were my grocery store, my bed, my playground, the air was sweet and pure and fresh and I never spoke there were no people to speak to there were eagles and elk and every shade of green, the world was vast and I was, I just was. I ate when I was hungry and I slept when I was tired and never intruding into the life and death struggles of my wild daily life did the sound of cars or trains or cell phones or anything intrude. I was rough and callous and impervious to the cold, it was spring and the river was cold but it did not hurt. My teeth were sharp and my eyes were sharp I could smell the bears, I believe that is what I was, just an oddly shaped small bear. I could smell the pine, the flowers, the dirt, the muck stuck to my skin from the river bank and the insides of the salmon. The day of the week and the month and the year did not matter. I was ageless, I was full of fish.

Friday, March 18, 2011

Mumblin' and Shootin' the blues

Mumblin' Biscuit Jefferson's kitchen
Chicago, 1938

Junkers Blues
by Champion Jack Dupree
all right... I'm sick as I can be...

Some people call me a junker, cause I'm loaded all the time
I just feel happy and I feel good all the time

Some people say I use a needle, and some say I slip cocaine
But that's the best old feelin' that I ever need

Say goodbye, goodbye to whiskey
Lord and so long to gin
I just want my reefer, I just want to feel high again

oh yes I'm a junker
I feel all right

Some people, some people crave for chicken
And some crave for a house steak
But when I get loaded lord I don't want my milk and cake

oh yeah that's what I want now...
They call me a junker...
Cause I'm loaded all the time...
But that ain't nothin that I feel good all the time...