CATEDRAL DE SAL

I WOULDN’T CALL IT LOVE

Followed you through those dim-lit halls,
held your hand and took your calls,
your eyes asked if I was to fall,
but it wasn’t love.

No; it wasn’t love.

Took our aim but missed the mark,
much more a flicker than a spark,
still we kissed in that florescent dark,
but it wasn’t love.

No; it was hardly love.

And you won’t see the shadows play my face again.
A start that seems an end, well, it just won’t begin.
Did our best but I don’t see this happening,
because it wasn’t love.

No; I wouldn’t call it love.

- C. Walker

THANKSGIVING GIRL FIGHT

Play a couple (read: never-ending) rounds of King’s Cup and suddenly you’ve got yourself a good ol’ fashioned girl fight. That night, I pulled so many Aces and Tara’s boyfriend pulled so many face cards we were determined to find a casino and hit the tables. Alas, we never did.

ELECTRIC CARVER

Tara took most of these as the boys toiled away in the kitchen, cutting up bird and later cleaning dishes. We used an electric knife, which I don’t overly recommend, although I did find it hilarious. Things got a bit more wild as the evening progressed, but these pictures make us appear to be an incredibly sophisticated, highly functioning, happy family / team.

SIXTEEN HOURS

Two friends, myself, and a cat traveled for sixteen hours from Balitmore, Maryland to Tampa, Florida. Hilarity, delirium, crankiness, Sumter, South Carolina, and fast food occurred. No one understands my “accent” in the South.

ARCHERON

We’ve lingered too long outside the cave on Taenarus.
No matter, we staked a claim and made it ours.
Gathered round bonfires; burning our throats with whiskey;
we beacon gods of old to devour willing souls,
yet they do not come.

Stars fade and sky illuminates, all remains unscathed.
What will it take to anger these ancient tyrants?
Shall we build a shrine to Dionysis out of disrespect,
to drown screams from the Styx with one unremitting gala?
All we’ve asked of them is war.

Apollo lights another day, yet sends no arrows our direction;
it seems death with glory is as prevalent as life without.
No battle will take place here, upon the mouth of Hades; 
no stories to immortalize the occasion,
only defeat with no defeat.

Remorseful and weary, no honor left to attain,
I laid down my weapons and wept.
Fellow compatriots carried on drinking and chanting, defying Zeus himself;
I descended into the darkened cavern.
 
Faces of men changed to that of shades,
and before long I stood facing Charon.
Before he could ask my purpose,
I let the coins meant for my eyes fall from my fingers.

My passage fare clinking on the blackened ground,
I whispered three sweet syllables,
then threw myself into Archeron.

(C. Walker)

Note: This is one of my most favorite poems I’ve written.

KALEIDOSCOPE OF ANGLES

Wooden deck out the back door of a coffee shop,
half-filled ashtray unstable on the table top,
an exchange of casual words and easy motions,
oh, captivate me, huntress;

you don’t know it but you are one.

Canopy of lamp glow rests above the yard,
your small hands so sweetly cut the shuffled cards,
a kaleidoscope of angles, friendly faces blur.
Oh, take me home, sweetheart;

I don’t want to go it on my own.

(C. Walker)

LOS ZAPATOS

I’m heading back to Gualajara, Mexico in a few days. I was going through some old pictures and came across these, taken in 2008, and thought I’d put them up. Lots of shoes on telephone / power lines down there.

MAGIC DOESN’T LAST FOREVER

Spectate in awe, enamored,
but know nothing stays as beautiful
as it first appears.

Colors don’t only bleed out of your clothes,
they dull inside your vision, fade out of your passion,
become muted in your imagination.

When you get closer to the legerdemain
you’ll find his tricks are just that.
So, make believe while you can;

magic doesn’t last forever.

(C. Walker)

AVOIDING THE CONFINES

The ashtray is full, yet
the pages remain empty.

So many thoughts flutter
along rising trails of smoke
but never become tangible
words, phrases, or ideas
worth mention – capable of invention.
They just float away,
meld with the atmosphere,
conform to the clouds,

avoiding the confines of ink and paper.

(C. Walker)