tuckova

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Interests: Alfons Mucha, Archibald Leach, big words, Bob Hicok, Brian Eno, Cat Power, Charles Bukowski, Charlotte Masaryk, cheese, clarity, dark chocolate, David Byrne, David Foster Wallace, Dorothy Parker, Douglas Adams, Edna St. Vincent Millay, E.E. Cummings, Frank O’Hara, Fred Rogers, garlic, Gaudi, Gertrude Stein, ginger, Gustav Klimt, Iva Pekarkova, Jane Austen, Jaromir Nohavica, Jeanette Winterson, Josef Skvorecky, Joseph Campbell, Joss Whedon, Just a Minute, Kate Bush, Kurt Vonnegut, laughing until it hurts, Laurie Anderson, Leonard Cohen, little kids singing, Lloyd Alexander, mandarin oranges, making lists, Margaret Atwood, Miss Manners, New Yorker, Paul Simon, performance, P.G. Wodehouse, poetry, Rebecca Solnit, Rob Brezsny, Robert Anton Wilson, Robert Creeley, salt, Salvador Dali, secrets, silence, Star Trek, Stephen Dunn, Talking Heads, Terry Gilliam, things that stain, This American Life, Tom Waits, T.S. Eliot, vegetable juice, veiled cultural references, vinegar, water, wine, W.H. Auden

mermaids singing

It could happen, after a night of tea and cakes and ices (in which tea is wine and cakes are cigarettes and ices are salty potato chips) that the moment might be not exactly forced to its crisis but perhaps there could be rain, too much to stand in but not too much to walk in, and so the story that needs to be told could unfold between raindrops, sheltered weakly with arms around waists and I feel the hip bone I knew once before still familiar under my fingers, walking past dooryards and the sprinkled streets, and when standing in front of the door to dare to disturb the universe with one hug, and another, and the kiss that is a bite which is consumed and is consuming, and a voice says you were always fun to kiss, and another voice laughs in the dark rain, and two heads cluster together in a secret and wish each other a good summer and are gone. 

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