Auto Repair Shop
N Interstate Ave, Portland, Oregon
A miscellany like Grandma’s attic in Taunton, MA or Mission Street's Thrift Town in San Francisco or a Council, ID yard sale in cloudy mid April or a celestial roadmap no one folded—you take your pick.
All I can do is take night’s madness and put it in a blender,
let the choppers go at it, silver with rage and other panics,
until it rains the mind slop I drain into Tupperware daily:
baby doll heads flickering in the ether, wind tunnels,
smashed piggybanks, pigeon juice and ceiling wax,
tufts of rat fur and Chinese finger traps, the last unicorn
carved up and served to tourists”
“My Inner David Lynch Movie”
What you see won’t share
the grammar of beauty,
but it will be more provocative
than the smell of the city breathing
To conquer rugged skin terrain like bathroom cowboys,
to later be able to plant and fell the trees of the world,
leaving behind only so much stubble.
It is breathing him in the night,
the body surprised at being seen,
the belly not sucked in, muscles unflexed,
private places hanging soft like a long braid.
It is showing him the screaming pieces you usually hide.
Marriage is a man who asks you to be louder.
You so often sleep
In long sleeves—it’s cruel, really. We women
are insatiable, too, so this peek of meat
makes me both pervert and disciple.
I know that the beginnings of something big are in me
and continue to grow as I breathe, cross streets,
and talk softly to friends in diners—but it’s not a baby.
It’s a filing cabinet of images, a lens
on a world at once real and imagined.
The only way to rewrite red is to take it apart:
strip back the casing of the monster of history,
reduce it once again to its smallest pieces,
and then speak to them. Do not turn away
when the shucked mess gapes at you,
asks for its skin back. Speak.
Curly Miller and Carole Anne Rose play "Extreme" pumped-up rowdy Old Time fiddle and clawhammer banjo, Hillbilly Fiddle Rags, Classic Banjo duets, Celtic, World, and historic music, featuring the duo's unique combination of talents.
|The view north from the St John's Bridge|
|The Burlington Northern Railroad Bridge, with downtown Portland in the distance to the right|