The Carnival Lights have returned, a generational cluster of Carnival Lights, once fuckin’ around the back-alleys of hiatus & autonomy and now with a ticket to soldier aboard this fine ThinkTank. And we are. Loitering amidst a dazzle and shooting from its hip and happenin’ moxy.
It’s good to have good company
and only a rollerblade removed from where we were, in a fashion.
A Hot new recce,
A Gumbo of Soul,
A direction without its destination
A rally, a cry, a glint in the eye.
And that’s the gospel-truth.
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2 comments:
Words of another:
"Now Captain Cool really takes off on a skysledge flip . . . we're goin' outside outs and inside ins and the maniac's twist and then we're jumpin' in the straight again . . . Thru all this Captain Cool is coming on like a polished penguins personal salute to the North Star. . . Jack, he was really chilly, he was so cool."
--Lord Richard Buckley--
Words of I:
"Light splatter of a literary friendsex situation - no question or fret of the i bone sheep scenario when among disciplines of shared rollerblade intentions. This is why frog went a-courtin'. He could. He felt at ease. And he lost no bride, and he only was swallowed by love. No tears on his pillow. I call no bravo sierra."
--Jack E. Gander--
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