The History Of Ruth
Hypnotic Habit
Deep Red Wine Irish Whiskey in Coffee Rage on the Screen Breeze on the Sails In the Night Clowns with Heavy Voice Singing in Ghostly Tones The Small Young Woman In the Slinky Dress Any Size and Any Place Attractive and Available Aroused Stiff or...
IN MEMORIAM, THE APRIL FOOL WHO WAS NOT, 55 YEARS, FOUR YEARS AGO
Today, would have been Ruth's 59th birthday, had she lived four more years. At The History of Ruth Website are wonderful stories of an extraordinary life. There are many stories still missing from the website, and new stories can also be offered. If...
Ruth’s Dream State: A Panoramic Vision of Dying and Juxtaposition
ID 102524776 © Dmytro Tolokonov | Dreamstime.com ‘The dream,’ says Bergson, ‘consists of the entire mental life minus the tension, the effort and the bodily movement’ (Dreams 27). Dreamers, artists, the contemplative ones are all more or less like the dying,...
A Place Where We Were, and I Am Now
In Love of Ruth At the entry of the Great Court Where the Women’s Fountain Splashed in refreshing water, I paused with my load Of books. I saw empty new benches On the late Saturday afternoon. I turn to exit and The emotions overcame. The lost-ness of the Past....
Something in the Nothingness
I am nothing, No existence, Although once. Remains of ash, but not I. Memory, but not existence, Carries my impression upon on the world. I have no voice, But only voice given by The historian. I am dead, You are alive.
The Sunset of Being Alive
Image: ID 44055351 © Ysbrand | Dreamstime.com This is how my daytime ended, driving over the high rise of Kessels Road, Robertson, looking out across western Brisbane to the mountain ranges which hid the Brisbane upriver valleys. Coopers Plains below, flat and open...
Life Locally on the Morning of High Winds Elsewhere in Country
Image: ID 35109186 © Efired | Dreamstime.com I lift my eyes off the page, siting in the shade of the bakery. Cast my eyes to the blue sky. The horizon of my childhood and youth. A single palm tree top appeared high above the shop lined roof. I feeling the soft...
Silent Embrace inside the Music, and the Equally Present and the Loss of Presence
Saturday late morning, and I am trying to catch up with some serious philosophical notation of Jack McKinney’s last book. He died in 1966, and his book was published by his lover-partner-wife in 1971. We were aged 5 years, and 10 years, respectively in that time of...