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The playlist for Monday 23 June 14 9pm to Midnight Pacific Edition of The Justice Department: Musique sans FrontieresWho loves ya, baby?
~~ "The Train Was Pulling Away And I Was Watching You" ~~
1 - Gillian Welch -- "One More Dollar"
2 - Abigail Washburn -- "Sometimes"
3 - Crooked Still -- "Come On In My Kitchen"
4 - Carolina Chocolate Drops -- "Leaving Eden"
5 - Grateful Dead -- "Brokedown Palace"
6 - The Horseflies -- "The Drunkards Lone Child"
7 - First Aid Kit -- "When I Grow Up"
8 - Russian Red -- "Just Like a Wall"
9 - Woods -- "Death Rattles"
10 - Little Axe -- "Ride On"
11 - Thievery Corporation -- "La Femme Parallel"
12 - Francis Cabrel -- "La Corrida"
13 - Gipsy Kings -- "Trista Pena"
14 - Joan Baez -- "Bachianas Brasileiras No 5 Aria"
15 - Ennio Morricone -- "Malena"
16 - Vangelis - "Song Of The Seas"
17 - Colour Haze -- "Aquamaria"
18 - Porno For Pyros -- "Bali Eyes"
19 - The Budos Band -- "King Cobra"
20 - Vanilla Fudge -- "Season Of The Witch"
21 - Violent Femmes -- "Kiss Off"
23 - Hungry Lucy -- "Storm"
24 - Kroke -- "The Sounds of a Vanishing World"
25 - Garaj Mahal -- "Hindi Gumbo"
26 - Victor Démé -- "Djon Maya"
27 - Jai Uttal and the Pagan Love Orchestra -- "Corner"
28 - Sleepy Sun -- "Sandstorm Woman"
29 - Tinariwen -- "Ere Tasfata Adounia"
30 - Mahmoud Ahmed -- "Era Mela Mela"
31 - Emeralds -- "Now You See Me"
32 - Os Mutantes -- "Bat Macumba"
33 - Yatu -- "La Luna"
34 - Poncho Sanchez -- "Besame Mama"
35 - Sabrina Malheiros -- "Cade Voce"
36 - New Trolls -- "Paolo E Francesca"
37 - Anna Caram -- "Agua de Beber"
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My bowl brimming with pretzels,~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
the snack you wanted least,
I slid open the door of our sleeping car
where we had been enjoying the country rushing by,
as if we were the first two people
to look down into the valleys and see
bright necks of pines stretch across farms
and streams to the groves they once cradled.
You had asked for Earl Grey cookies
sandwiched around buttercream or marshmallows
made of chocolate, but all the tea bags had been dunked
and the chocolate melted over biscotti.
When I came bearing the salted and twisted news,
the room was empty but for a heel. It was black
as a bunting, and wound with zippers,
and every time the car rocked
it looked ready to fly and escape
into the cold, tangled air
of travel that always feels heavy
with joy and desire, and a little sadness,
always a little sadness,
because of the leaving, which is what I do
when I realize I’m in the wrong room
and that numbers have betrayed me again
while I was hunting and gathering,
foraging like Homo habilis
who probably never lost his cave.
Out of patience, I opened every door
marked with threes and eights, those conjoined twins
disastrously separated at birth,
and roused the scabbed eyes of sleepers
like a beggar, no, an angel,
a begging angel who has written on his heart
will work for love.
Having not found our room, not heard
the sharp swing of your voice,
I descended upon the passenger cars
and row upon row of couples asleep
or staring out the windows like zombies
trying to remember what happens next
once the newspaper is well-thumbed,
the tea has gone cold, and the conversation is dead.
I called for you, in vain, even using your secret names,
the ones only the night knows:
wind-kiss, brilliant-fruit, dervish-moon . . .
Over and over, I said your names,
over and over until they filled
the wounded air of the car
and when there was no more room
for another sound, they caught and hooked
the ring of the brakes hugging the rails.
Just when I thought I wouldn’t find you,
you were there, the train was pulling away,
and I was watching you slowly eat
a dish of whipped cream and bananas
— the house special — in a cafe
in a city we didn’t know.
When you finished, we started walking
down a road that bent like a smile,
a shy smile, like the one the Japanese cat wore
on your purse. The road, we were told,
would take us to the end of the line
where all lovers in search of joy
packed on bullet trains — they’re the fastest
on two continents — arrive every hour.
(Field of Tournesol Normandy, France / copyright Justice Putnam
Voices and Soul appears on Black Kos Tuesday's Chile; poetry chosen and critiqued by Black Kos Poetry Editor, Justice Putnam.
(Chateau de Valicourt Montmorancy, France / copyright Justice Putnam)
Question: Who is your audience? What are you here for?~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Answer: Tribal Alliances, Heart-felt Convictions, Passionate Reason, Random Abandon, Sustainable Civility and a kiss; to comfort the sad and the mad Ones; the Ones roaming the International section of the American Supermarket at night; or roaming the neglected streets looking for an angry malaprop to sink their teeth into; the Ones who seek without seeking and learn as much as they teach; the Ones who embrace and kiss and embrace again; the Ones who sing the song of the city and the ballads of the forest; the Ones who chant the rhythm of the sea and hum the melody of the desert; the Ones who sing the prayer of Her name and Her name is the World. Yes, those are the Ones. -- JP
Okiciyap (we help) is a 501(c)(3) non-profit organization, your donation should be tax deductible. Okiciyap, located on the Cheyenne River Reservation in South Dakota, is working to provide a food pantry, youth center, K-12 educational support, GED & Lakota as a 2nd language class support for youth and adults. The word Okiciyap is Lakota for "we help."
The Daily Kos Fundraising for Okiciyap group was formed to support the pantry. More information is available at the Okiciyap diaries published here at Daily Kos.
So that explains it... !
... Or does it?
I took another small sip of water as the next questioner rose, this time by the stacks of French novels. She was cute; red hair, tall, maybe 5'9" or 5'10", well proportioned. Had to be another doctoral student in Comparative Literature at Cal; so even at 24 or 25, was too young for my wandering eye.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"You stated," she stated determinedly, "and I quote; 'Comedy, Poetry and Fiction are only effective and only become Art if there is a Truth behind the humor, the verse and the lie.'"
"Yes," I uttered to fill the small silence.
"In your writing; in your humor, verse and lies, are you telling a Truth about yourself?" she asked, "or are you telling a Truth about the Culture and Society as a whole?"
"Yes," I answered.
(Chair, Floor and Electric Cord Berkeley, California / copyright Justice Putnam)
"The most unostentatious, the most inexpensive, the most ridiculous chair, if a chair can be ridiculous, which could be devised. Brassai chose precisely this insignificant chair and, snapping it where he found it, unearthed what there was in it of dignity and veracity. THIS IS A CHAIR."~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
-- Henry Miller
"The Eye of Paris"
(Rail Road Crossing Sonoma, California / copyright Justice Putnam)
(Farm Road Olema, California / copyright Justice Putnam)
"Many heroes lived before Agamemnon, but they are all unmourned, and consigned to oblivion, because they had no bard to sing their praises."
"Still the race of hero spirits pass the lamp from hand to hand."~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
-- Charles Kingsley
(Lamp and Post Berkeley, California / copyright Justice Putnam)
(House Ruins of Poet St Pol Roux Brittany, France / copyright Justice Putnam)
Simonides of Ios~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
On the fields of Marathon
Lay the withering
Farmers and boys
In a flowering
(Markris Yialos—Crete, Greece)
from: "The Nature of Poetics Collapsed Outside My Window"
© 2006 by Justice Putnam
and Mechanisches-Strophe Verlagswesen
Rest in Peace Aaron Schwartz
(Morning Fog And Surf, Muir Beach, California / copyright Justice Putnam)