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It is a whirlwind in here

The Ghost Of Kafka Walks

The Ghost of Kafka walks

(not stalks)


The streets

Of Prague.


 Prague,

(The place he would/could

Never leave
Until the last

Half year of his life)

He described as:
“The little Mother has claws.”

Which she did.

For him.


He managed

(In the last half year of his life)
To escape to Berlin

During one of

The
Worst times

Anyone could live

In Berlin


Until the end of the

Second World War.

But

That was years

Away.


But he escaped

With a young

Lover,

Which made things

So much

Better.


But his Ghost only

Walks
The streets of

Prague


Whereas

Kafka’s Ghost

Stalks

The rest of

The World.


~ D. E. BA  U.E.

Featured post

Margaret Atwood Travels Further Than Ever – Blessed Be!

the-testaments_margaret-atwood_3

I have noted some folk looking at this post from a couple of years ago. I had put it up because of the success of the television series, A Handmaid’s Tale.

Now, Ms. Atwood has produced a new novel, The Testaments, [which, by the way, has a brilliant front and back cover] with an international launch from London, England. I can humbly state that my part in her literary life remains the same.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was not my intent to piss off Margaret Atwood.

The opposite, in fact. I wanted her to know she was an inspiration.

She was giving a reading at the University of New Brunswick in my student days. I attended, but there was quite the gathering and she was whisked away at the end. However, I overheard there was a ‘gathering’ in her honour. Invitation only, of course. Academia and literati.

I crashed the party (that was the term used by the professor who clapped his sturdy hand upon my shoulder but – happily – did not thrust me into the night).

But Ms. Atwood was kept deep in many a learned conversation and I had no opportunity to converse. I did, however, overhear where she would be spending next afternoon – the historic University Observatory.

Next day I knocked upon the Observatory door.

It was not a cheerful Margaret Atwood who answered, and answered with alacrity.

She asked my name.

She asked my business.

And she asked how the hell I knew where she was. She had stolen the day to do some writing. Some ‘real’ writing, in this window-of-opportunity grudgingly offered on the book tour.

At least I was there to praise Atwood and not to bury her with some essay question.

Nor had I a manuscript to hand to her.

I might not have garnered a smile, but her curt thank you was reward enough.

For me, at least.

Featured post

Not A Ghost Of A Chance In This Time Of Pandemic – Rum A Necessity

My crew of characters in my current novel, “There Was A Time, Oh Pilgrim, When The Stones Were Not So Smooth”, have been with me for the past five years.When COVID hit, they decided to stay together in one dwelling.To pass the time, they decided to tell Ghost Stories.

Since 29 09 202, I have been writing nothing but Ghost Stories. Sevenall told. I finished the last one today.

In effect, I have written a complete book of short stories, all stand-alone, for the past seven months. Each story was true to each individual character, but that was not important to the stories themselves.It was important to the novel.

This has been a unique situation for me, to wander off in the

Sheet-Pan Shrimp Romesco Dinner . . . w/ 5 garlic cloves, peeled and smashed (Need one say more?)

This shrimp and cauliflower with romesco sauce is a perfect weeknight, healthy dinner!

Source: Sheet-Pan Shrimp Romesco Dinner

May the 4th In The Pandemic

May the 4th

(hopefully)

Lead to May the 5th

(hoo-ray/hoo-ray

for

the 5th of May

Chicken fat canning

begins

today)

This is the 2nd

{Second}

04 o’ May

In the Pandemic

And though I’m no Jabba-the-Hutt

I have been

Jabbed.

So

Put that in your lightsaber

And flash it.

And may the herd immunity

Gallop (well) forth

Like a maddened herd

Of Jar Jar Binks

Sweeping everyone

In its way.

~ DE BA. UE

In The Houses Where I Have Lived

There was a fire from which , as a baby,, I fled into the night. I was told about this, much much later. The house still stands.

There was a fire and the house burned down in the night. I had moved from the house years before. I watched the fire trucks.

A gang of teen-agers watched my mother undressing through her bedroom window on Halloween. My father went out to confront them, armed with a cane. I accompanied him. They dispersed quickly with a few taunts. The house still stands.

In the boarding house where I lived, a man became more unhinged than usual and smashed and trashed everything in his room. He believed he was on a mission from Jesus, and claimed he had the stigmata to prove it. He did not return. The house has been torn down.

I lived over a laundromat, one floor above the flat of the owner, and her elderly mother. There was an ornate bench in the landing where no one was ever to sit. I was reminded of this weekly. The house is now a parking garage.

There was a midnight fire in the apartment house where i lived. Smoke filled the building and obscured everything.I was a minute away from death when I felt the mailboxes at the bottom of the stairwell. I then knew where I was and made a run straight ahead. I was greeted by flashing lights and firetrucks. The house was restored and still has apartments

I spent the rest of my university life in Residence. Lots of experiences (midnight half-price delivered pizza being a favourite). The building still stands.

I then moved to a house built before the country was formed. Loved the apartment at first sight. Lived there twenty-six years. Huge back yard (the flower gardens won prizes). Mind you, a taxi driver was murdered in that back yard. Cozy, comfy, generally quiet.But standards slipped. A police raid next door to catch a thief (he went to jail for seven years). Another police raid next door to stop a blaring party (that fellow went on to murder a lover, Claimed self-defence although the lover was stabbed a dozen times while asleep). And then smokers the floor below smoked while in bed. My apartment had only smoke damage, but the house was beyond financial repair. It is now gone.

Potato and Egg Frico (with Asiago Cheese) W/ a large onion and – yes! – that cheese.

Try this recipe for Potato and Egg Frico (with Asiago Cheese) from PBS Food.

Source: Potato and Egg Frico (with Asiago Cheese)

A Ghost And The Dance Of The Seven Veils

I have often wondered

Well –

Not that often

If the Ghost

In a bed sheet

Has not been misinterpreted

And is, instead,

Wearing seven veils.

And the Ghost

Disappears

As the Ghost

Commences,

And continues,

And continues,

Some more,

And eventually

Concludes

The Dance

Of The Seven Veils.

And eventually

Reveals everything

By

Revealing

Nothing.

~ DE BA. UE

Spring Risotto  w/ onions & cheese

This Spring Risotto recipe features asparagus, onions, spinach, and Parmesan-Reggiano. Get the recipe at PBS Food.

Source: Spring Risotto

Shakespeare’s Birth And Death Day Is A Couplet

The EARTH For A Day

Let us contemplate

The EARTH we walk upon

For a day,

And a lifetime.

And hope that

That lifetime

Will be ours

And not the EARTH.

For the EARTH

After centuries,

And millennia,

And the speck

From which it sprang,,

Whether through Genesis,

Or the Big BANG,

(Both of which are

eerily similar)

Is

– let’s face it –

Getting pissed off!

From the molten lava

Heaving into the heavens,

To the storms at sea

And one on EARTH.

All giving us

Fair warning

Of

Just who

Is in charge.

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