The Pumpkin Man Rides His Bike

[the mingo]

Too fucking hot today. Come January I'll be staring at five feet of blowing snow & cursing the cold.
Ol' Jack Black said you can't win, he wrote a book about it & he wasn't wrong.

Go outside it's like walking into an oven. If our ancestors really migrated out of Africa I'd have no problem understanding why.

If the decals & the paint melt off my bike this afternoon I won't be surprised.

I'm gonna sit in front of the fan, head out on the 'net and play some chess. Indulge some in Eskimo dreaming ...

black swan floating over
his own reflection
the sound of his breathing
known only
to himself

[the mingo]

Heavy rain last night - much cooler today - I woke from a dream, torn from it by the coming of waking consciousness when I had wanted to stay where I was - now the ordinary world holds itself as hollow to me and it's hard to shake - I get ready for work, clean off my bike, prepare coffee, pack a sandwich, locate my gloves - my heart in none of it -


railroad tracks & the river
curving into fog
no one about

[the mingo]

Just tried to sign in as the Moons of Saturn - I typed "the moons..." & went gimme some
brakes ! - The river is up from the rains day before yesterday -

rise & fall
rise & fall
days roll on to destination

A house is a house & a shack is a shack but either one can be a home. The view from the Plateau is this - there are tiny frogs all over the place - this year's crop, I mean all over the place - if Basho were to try to get any sound out of these guys he would have to drop at least twenty of them into his pond at the same time for any noise to register -

Came damn close to being sideswiped by a driver the other day when I out on a roll - perfect weather, clear, bright sunlight, no blind spots - pissed me off - disturbed my calm - rattled my cage - bike riders get no respect, of course I knew that going in, it don't matter if you're in a city or out here in the boonies -

Keep a sharp eye -

[the mingo]

riding my bike
just past midnight
every light on it
blinking its own rhythm
beneath a half moon

... heard coyotes all around on my ride tonight, voices too. Not surprised because the days of high summer are growing shorter. The earth tipping the other way from spring. Spirits are unleashed ahead of autumn, from here four months to the winter solstice.

i don't mourn the dead
they are awaiting their Savior
or waiting for judgement
there is nothing
the living can do

My bike is a poem all to itself. I throw a leg over her and mount and ride the poem of her all over the place. Into the mist rising off the fields. I follow backroads that disappear into pure blackness beneath the trees where you can see no stars. I gain a hilltop to see the yard light of a far off dwelling. I stop on a bridge to listen to the water passing under it, water I cannot see if there is no moon - when there is no wind I can hear the whir from the spokes of my wheels. It is a sound I cannot describe or liken it to something else - it is a poetry.

the moon sets
to leave darkness
alone with itself

[WIREMAN]

Panther night
Call of wild
Zippin along
Thru the trickster
predawn

[the mingo]

I threw myself into the river today. Tripped up on my own kayak and in I went. Two lungfuls of water, soaked wallet, drowned phone + odds & ends. The temp of the water was the first part of the shock, everything went downhill from there - Trickster for sure, Wireman.

I think tomorrow I'll just stick to the bike.

[WIREMAN]

Pumpkins, Halloween, just wondering how the ridin's been?

[the mingo]

No so much the last couple of months - running around for the landlord but otherwise sticking close to home - ain't doing me any good I can say - my mind is running to mush ... thx for asking, Mark

[WIREMAN]

rain and more rain here...u riding at all or has the snow come?

[the mingo]

we had snow a couple of weeks ago but gone now - lots of rain - river so high it looks like it does in the spring a bit - been on short rides, be-bopping i call it - did a few miles though couple of days ago, up around sixty that day in the afternoon - couldn't believe it - i rolled north quite aways then began to cut back around to the east then south then west then south then east again - came in a couple miles below the river house, north again then to home - two small dogs came out to chase me over on a road i had only been down once back in april - they came out from under this fir tree with low hanging branches, i laughed they were so fierce and all of 10 inches tall - then i heard a woman's voice calling for the dogs, i looked to my left and she was standing on a raised porch, wearing a red sweater, maybe mid to late thirties - bit of a babe there, short cropped hair, trim figure, held herself well & looking just fine - a mile on i crossed the steel deck bridge over the Little Salmon river still thinking 'bout the sight she presented standing up there on her porch calling those ridiculous tiny dogs back home - and me shaking my head at my foolishness crossing a bridge over a river in the uplands of the Tug at the end of december with no snow anywhere ... what's shaking down there in your locale, have your show yet?

[judih]

We've got a good potato crop growing. Oranges are ripening on the trees of the orchards. Puddles on occasion in the dirt road I use to bike to school and back. But it's been colder than usual here. Usually in December I can wear t-shirts during the day. Not these days. I've been wearing my winter coat in the morning before the mid-day sun hits its max.

Unusual days.

[the mingo]

judih - we haven't had the cold so much yet - chill, yes, but even with all this rain it has been in the 40's generally - I've been helping the landlord's brother out the past couple of weeks and ridden my bike over to his paradise in the woods most days - only once did he have to come get me because of the rain - most days get away with wearing a sweatshirt under a light jacket for the ride over & for the ride back in the afternoon have to shed the jacket -

Unusual days especially for here - this place gets buried in snow that can start in November - not this year -

Gonna heat me up some apple cinnamon bread, cover it in butter, accompany it with fresh hot coffee - picked up an item for the Kindle yesterday - title is "Heart of Haiku" by Jane Hirshfield - I've read many articles by her the last couple of years on the 'net - she always gets me to thinking about what I should be trying to do with short form pieces - always engages my imagination - so apple bread, butter, & Jane - let the rains come!

[WIREMAN]

small show at nola last week...sold a woman....

[judih]

wish i could bike on over to the east coast.
jane and wired times
but got myself a day: meditation with the grade 8 kids
english with the grade 10 recalcitrants
and puppetry with 4th-6th graders

see you on the flip side of the clock

[the mingo]

Wireman - good, I don't believe I have ever sold anything - ever - no beaded bags, no paintings,
nada - me & van Gogh on the same boat -