“Flashes of Light”

2nd ever WP piece

Other Poetry

flashes of light

leaking across the dark

catch corneal attention

like subliminal elephants marching

across an army ant parade on

one of those old pull-up junior high school

slideshow screens some folks used

for eight-millimeter home movies

a half-century ago

knowing it’s just peripheral

phantoms phosphor-playing about

my still-flashback-reacting flesh

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8 thoughts on ““Flashes of Light”

  1. You are Three-Kind, Shehanne, and I do make strong (ok, maybe not so strong) efforts to knock “acceptance” of compliments somewhere ‘twixt those two ears where it won’t fall out every time I go jogging to the next cold beer…and at near-70 I rarely exceed two in any day…and to keep the head-swell in check I try to avoid preening past the hallway mirror…someone hiding there always sticks his thumbs in his ears and waves fingers – and sticks out his tongue – at me with the most derisive of slobberingly ‘Bronx Cheer’ imaginable. And for a Scot, a Bronx Cheer is only slightly less derisive than what Mel Gibson and his pals did for Eddie Longshanks in that delightful but sobering film Braveheart.

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    • Love it. We have here what we call the Dundee cringe when it comes to compliments. Best way really. BUT I do mean what I say to you. So you can take that from someone who cringes whenever anyone says anything even approaching nice. Ah Braveheart, a film of which I am fond in that despite all that was levelled at it re historical inaccuracies etc.–plainly by those who have no understanding of how you have to make it appealing often by bending history, pur our patriot on a world stage. I actually play William Wallace…yes…in the Mr’s play. And it’s one cameo I never handed over when we got more cast onboard, cos I rather love it! The story is of course –and the bit we re-enact bashing bits out of each other with idiot boards– is the one where he supposedly slew the governor of Dundee’s son, fled to nearby Invergowrie where a weaving woman dressed him up as her daughter….

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      • Now that I have recovered from my laughing fit I must ask why is it that so many women whith whom I have made acquaintance seem desperate to get me into drag? Pretty butt? Long – formerly rust, gold, earth and black hair with the red predominant: I accused both parents of having bought me at a used boy lot on Mars and engaged me to watch their two real sons and keep them alive for $2 a month and found. Neither ever denied the charge.

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  2. OK, was not really serious. They paid $2 a week. Never did get a raise, though. About those girls’ duds. Once at the Powder Puff football game my senior year in high school. The skirt wasn’t so bad, nice and breezy, but those two balloons under the sweater. I don’t know how you put up with that stuff…if girls didn’t have such great eyes – and else – there’d be a bounty on ’em!

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  3. That’s about the highest praise – and kindest, too! – imaginable. I already am a past master at making little girls cry: a talent not so rare among uncles who insist their orders whilst walking in Florida’s swampy and snake-filled woods. Okay. I confess to a few other times as well. Again, Shehanne: thanks for the kind words. J

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