“The Tide goes in…

…and the tide goes out.  but the beach stays sand, and the sea stays salt.  It is the sand and the salt that I’m writing about.”

…Randal Jarrell

Good morning, Literati, from Oceanside California, and the towers that are A Word with You Press. Went down to the beach this morning with my drug of choice in hand, looking for my mojo. (Found it, btw).  The sunrise here looks much like this picture, taken not far from where the towers await the full benefits of global warming and becomes beach-front property (Drill, baby, Drill)

Seagull contemplates being a tacit tern

Where youthful hedons wax surfboards, editors-in-chief of literary blogs wax nostalgic. I am busy rethinking God this morning, my faith in heathenism recently challenged. I think the last letter of God should be capitalized, and not the first, as in a crescendo.  goD.  What do you think?

I had the not too original thought that I believe all men have, and that is the portal to hiS temple is the hips of a woman. As I sat at the beach, I felt that the cavern of sky in which I found myself sitting on a rock with a cup of coffee was  the view from inside a womb.  Brilliant, vast, all encompassing, infinite with possibilities for beauty and creation. I don’t know if women can feel or think this way, but I am fairly certain that every male has felt this, and in the altered, out of body state of man-woman union goD whispers just loud enough to be heard, just loud enough to suggest hiS presence, but not so loud that the two lovers can not float on the cloud of their own creation. Blessed are those for whom love and sex are one and the same. In the state of bliss we forgive goD for his voyeurism.

(By the way, as you know we lost much content about six months ago due to hackers.  If by chance anyone among you has for some reason saved a one page blog I wrote The Third Whale, being the tears of god, I would so appreciate it if you could send it to thorn@awordwithyoupress.com)

I am pretty well recovered from pneumonia, and will be pouring some energy back into this site, and I so hope that everyone can reciprocate. This week, send me any random thought and I will post it.  “Almost Avalon”  is going to press this coming month, and “Courtesans of God”  (or should that be goD?) is being shopped to traditional publishers.  Meaning I am free to start a new book.

I’m the one with the beard. Thanksgiving Day, 1972 on the deck of my boat “Diver”

I have recently acquired a muse. (perhaps more accurate to say, she has acquired me) I asked her to place her hands on my face on Thanksgiving and plant the seed of my next book.  This she did.  My first line came almost at once:  “He had an uncanny ability to predict the past.”  And she said the story takes place on the East Coast.  The rest is for me to discover myself.  But I do share.

Why not do the same?  Help me. Help me put some vitality in this site so that we are more than just a monthly contest. Send me your stories to put up on our writer’s showcase.

Mind yourselves crossing the roads.




14 thoughts on ““The Tide goes in…

  1. Michael Stang says:

    How does one recently aquire a muse?  Been waiting for one all my life though that is not entirely true but in specific regards to writing, that is pretty much it.  I despise myself, I love myself, I shout echos from the mountain, I sleep alone, I sleep with an other.  I Ching and just about all of Derek’s rituals come to the same thing.  The same eyes looking out at the world.  Where is this ethereal/primordial conciousness, coming to me as a vision, or a clarity, or just asking me to dinner?  Is there a writer out there without one?  Let me sniff the heat coming off that computer, perhaps that is perfume after all.

  2. 1948pdobbs says:

    I dare say, your observations on the beach this morning were whispers from the Creator of the very things you were observing. But… of course you knew I would say that. didn’t you? Even though you expressed your thoughts beautifully, I’d like to hold the jewel of love up to his light where its karats are without number. Then the
    blessed are those who hear the crescendo of goD who is LOVE. many faceted, and everlasting. They are able to grasp with open heart the one facet of sexual intimacy, unblemished, a designed gift, a holy honor, a joy divine.
    Blessings, as always, pd

    • Thorn says:

       I figgered this would draw you out, my dear.  had not heard from you in so long, most of us were mumbling about where you were.  Is 1948 the year you were married or the number of suitors you turned down?

      • 1948pdobbs says:

        You know me too well! August 30, 1948, two kids made promises to each other that we are still trying to fulfill. I was idealistic enough to think it would be a breeze. He at 18 woke up the next morning asking, “What have I done and what do I do now?” But after 64 years, we’d do it all over again. “Blessed are those for whom love and sex are the same”, is the bait that hooked me. Its good to be missed and I hope to hang around for a while as his health improves.
        Blessings, pd

    • Glclark says:

      PEGGY DOBBS???? The ONE and ONLY Peggy Dobbs? Wow – We’ve missed you. So good to see you back here. We have missed you and your beautiful words.

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