Just for fun …

Just for fun …


I found a treasure instead. My piano, “Three-Legged Dog”, a 1917 parlor-grand Steinway piano, helped me write this poem for her coming-out, coming home party in 2000.
We celebrated her arrival in 1920’s costume and music.
She was born in Chicago in 1917, went to New York, was renovated, and settled in my living room many decades later.
So, here she is, my Three-Legged Dog, sharing her poem.
(I would scan the original poem but, I’m happy to say, red wine stains cover some of the words. So I’ve retyped.)

Well, I’ve seen a lot of changes
many looks on many faces
But I’m wondering what you think of me tonight.
So I stand here in my glory
many years and many stories
And I hope to shed for you a little light.
So looking back, we’re sorting
we begin the process courting
of a kinship to discover varied pasts
And I hope that you will find me
just a little more enlightening
than the accumulation of years gone by too fast.
My insides renovated
many hands participated
in the making of this body – Parlor Grand
I’ve been sheltered, I’ve been trampled
left behind and gently sampled
But I’m balanced on these three legs where I stand.
Have you seen me at my low times
or my even just-for-show times?
Can you tell when I need company by sight?
Let me do some rearranging
’cause the times, they keep on changing
So I’m wondering what you think of me tonight.
In front of you I’m standing
so proud of parlor granding
and though it seems you haven’t known me very long
I’ll keep us entertaining
for the years that are remaining
’cause the bond I have with you is very strong.
So, I’ll be here ready for you
and I’ll try hard not to bore you
I’m lucky and I thank the stars above
And I’ll be open, you will hear me
it’s my fortune if you’re near me —
CD-W, 10-24-2000
(or is this me I’m really speaking of?)


Tommy the Clown
After attending a grown-up birthday party with Tommy the Clown (known for his “Krumping,” and inspiring youth) I wrote this (hope you can read it!):

I wrote this after I suffered a disappointment. (I wondered where this poem had gone. Found it taped in one of my journals.)

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We are all made up of jigsaw pieces – varied shapes of experiences that combine to make us a complete puzzle.
You don’t think you are complete? You think you are missing pieces?

Do you toss a few of your least wonky samples on the viewing table, the ones you’ve buffed and coated in high gloss? The pieces you think are less vulnerable to share?
Perhaps today you are a one-hundred piece puzzle. Or a five-hundred. With additional experiences comes greater awareness. Tomorrow, you might be made of a thousand pieces that all interlock perfectly. Tomorrow, maybe ten-thousand.
At this very second, this moment in time, you are perfect.

Celebrate who you are.

Don’t we all feel this way sometimes?


Random journal entry? Yes, except for the top right corner that came from a dream. I was about to step into the water of the National Mall in D.C. to follow others.

I looked down at the water contemplating stepping in, when two Marines, one on each side, escorted me through the water. As I got to the “end,” I realized who was at the front, the person I had been following. Rosa parks turned to us, threw her arms up and said, “Point your breasts up to the heavens and dance!”

Loved this dream!
Ooh! This was a special find! (See other Journal Kernels here) This was a dream that inspired The Last Bordello. See the short excerpt below.

Most nights, I see Papa in my dreams. In a slower-than-life pulse, in a not-so-common four-count measure, he smiles as he grabs the knob of our screen door and opens it to enter. His movement repeats. He smiles and opens the door. Smiles and opens the door. Each time, he never enters. He never falls.
But Papa did fall; collapsed before crossing our threshold into the house his neighbors helped him to build. Four years ago now, all of the notes of Papa’s life faded away with his last breath. A stillness so loud that my ears still burned.
If only Papa hadn’t died.