Deep Ellum Blues

Post your poetry, any style.
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Lightning Rod
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Deep Ellum Blues

Post by Lightning Rod » July 15th, 2007, 10:48 am

Around about the time I got out of the joint they had this little bar down by Fair Park with everything black you know post-color or something and they had hanging above the bar the actual model that was used to film the blimp shots in Blade Runner. I always thought that blimp model with its little laser beams and its teeny blinking lights and those eentcy little people in the windows taking in the post apocalyptic scenery said something special about Dellum. This was like a necessary crack in the mantle of the dynamo next to its very heart oozing forth jellied liquor of a cultural substance which grows for a wild tenacious lichen if it can, if it can by the Trinity. If Poets spew seeds and I know they do, then where those seeds hit they have to grow, so they are forever looking for some little crotch where something soft has collected and where there might be a little moisture in its memories. I know there's something to be said for New Orleans and San Francisco has its humpy charm and despite all that talk about Bleaker Street the real blues in an unanswered urban sense is the grey windy streets of Dallas in February.
"These words don't make me a poet, these Eyes make me a poet."

The Poet's Eye

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stilltrucking
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Post by stilltrucking » July 15th, 2007, 7:13 pm

Image

A picture from Carl's Corner Truck Stop south of Dallas around the jct of I-35w and 35E
I think those big Frog's (Tree Frogs) used to sit on the roof of a night club in Deep Ellum. But maybe it was a club in Austin.
I don't know why that comes to mind. I have never been in deep ellum, just all around the edges of down town. The produce market down there somewhere? I never seen the good side of any city.





Dallas in the Dead of Winter.
The Bluest day I ever spent in Dallas. I was coming back to Northwest Hwy from the main post office. The road surface a sheet of ice, a nice day for a sailboat not an but not for a dead head in an 18 wheeler. The wind caught that 53' trailer like it was a sail. I started slidding towards a twenty foot drop off to some high tension towers. A good day to be awake, alive, Maslow would call it peak experirience I think. I was real cool on my stool and curious as to what would happpen next.

I miss Dallas but maybe not in the freezing rain.

nice Blues riff
thanks you

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Lightning Rod
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Post by Lightning Rod » July 15th, 2007, 9:18 pm

Truck,

Carl Cornelius (the Carl in Carl's Corner) was a friend of mine. He sold me five acres of land about a mile from where this picture was taken. That is where I built my dome.

He's quite a character. Has eight fingers and plays the piano.

The frogs he bought from Shannon Wynne, another friend of mine. They used to sit atop a nightclub on Greenville Ave. where my ex-wife was the head waitress. The club was called Tango.
"These words don't make me a poet, these Eyes make me a poet."

The Poet's Eye

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judih
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Post by judih » July 15th, 2007, 9:36 pm

small world.
l-rod, have you spoken about this dome?
Are there pictures?
Can you describe living in it?

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Lightning Rod
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Post by Lightning Rod » July 15th, 2007, 10:15 pm

here is a picture of my dome

Image

It was very comfortable to live there
I lived in it for three years
it had all the comforts
heat and air-conditioning, wood stove
microwave and color tv

it's made out of cardboard and tombstones

it was very expansive to live in non-rectilinear space
takes some getting used to
"These words don't make me a poet, these Eyes make me a poet."

The Poet's Eye

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judih
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Post by judih » July 16th, 2007, 9:40 am

What an amazingly funky looking dwelling. Big and with modern perks, it looks fascinating

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stilltrucking
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Post by stilltrucking » July 16th, 2007, 1:28 pm

LR wrote:
it was very expansive to live in non-rectilinear space
takes some getting used to
I can't say it clay. I can't find the words. This world we are born into, this extro biological womb that shapes our view of the world. Do we grow up in round yin space of a grass hut or right angles of a yang brick house in Chicago.

Do you remember ceilings? Waking up to the same ceiling day after day and then you move and the first morning you wake up to a strange new ceiling and have no idea where you are. Or sometimes even who you are. It happend to Kerouac in the hotel by the railroad station the first time he crossed the country.




I wonder where marksman45 is? He was hip to
enculturation.


makes not much sense
I can't find the words
it is too deep

what ever happened to Eddie Brickell?
Chuck me in the shallow water before I get too deep

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WIREMAN
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Post by WIREMAN » July 16th, 2007, 3:56 pm

"don't let me get too deep!"
she married paul simon last i heard of her ST
and did a new cd a couple years ago......
me I feel like I'm becoming some kinda Kung fu t.v. Priest.....

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