And now, this is what 8 o’clock feels like

In 1994, Bukowski died at 73. It’s hard to imagine we have so many days until we don’t. He said don’t die before you’re dead, hold your head under the water, play the violin. Plant tulips in the rain. But don’t write poetry.

How thick the spring felt
when we got home,
the milky night sky implied
a moon, the crickets’
invisible weave
a force field,
‘ode to crackling

And in the morning we got up and came down to the den to make coffee. We got under the blankets and lay there with the dog and the cat, the four of us flattened by a knife, the icing on the cake, the tic tock of the clock wafting in and out, the starting of the neighbor’s car, the same low rumble as ours.

And on the way to the lake, the last hanging on of winter, the force of March, crows picking at rubbish, spring birds coming out from the dark…it’s like the aftermath of some riot or looting where it’s unclear what’s happened or who’s in charge, the taking over of songs strung together like tinsel through the trees…the turning of the clocks and the colors so slow, from gray to green, and back to gray, they go.

And the way the rain fell was like it would never stop. No amount of incense I could burn or beer I could drink would make it end. For as much as I tried, it just kept falling.

Categories: musings, writing

Tags: , , , , , ,

11 replies

  1. ” into every life some rain must fall…” can’t remember who said this, but your post made this come to mind. hope it stops soon –


    • That reminds me of a line from a Led Zeppelin song, they’re probably pulling from somewhere else too, maybe the same place you’re thinking. Thanks Beth, we are all ready for a break.


  2. Ok. Just figured it out–you are a magician! This post has magic in it! 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Getting up to make coffee and going back under the blankets is the best feeling ever.

    Liked by 2 people

  4. It always feels like you’ve been rummaging around my bookshelves. Or inside my head.


  5. It’s raining again
    Oh no, my love’s at an end.
    Oh no, it’s raining again
    And you know it’s hard to pretend.
    Oh no, it’s raining again
    Too bad I’m losing a friend.
    Oh no, it’s raining again
    Oh will my heart ever mend.
    Oh no, it’s raining again
    You’re old enough some people say
    To read the signs and walk away
    It’s only time that heals the pain
    And makes the sun come out again
    It’s raining again
    Oh no, my love’s at an end.
    Oh no, it’s raining again
    Too bad I’m losing a friend.

    C’mon you little fighter
    No need to get uptighter
    C’mon you little fighter
    And get back up again
    Oh get back up again
    Fill your heart again…

    Written by Richard Davies, Roger Hodgson • Copyright © Universal Music Publishing Group

    A little Supertramp flashback for your ed-ification.

    Liked by 1 person

    • I love Supertramp…wonder if that Richard Davies was any relation to Dave Davies or Ray Davies? Or am I totally losing my mind here, probably. Always welcome those snatches of good songs, thanks for sharing. My throat is dry for song, with all this rain. No tunes left. Kind of freaking really tired of it and BUMMED OUT. Doing my best to bleat it out with an old Dylan album now and a beer.


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