About Daedalus Lex

Favorite painting title: A Hair Pursued by Two Planets, Joan Miro Favorite English word to say out loud: lilliputian Favorite Spanish word to say out loud: pipas Favorite album: Abbey Road Favorite zoo animals: elephant, anteater Favorite advertising slogan: "Drink Barqs. Its good."

First Reflection (voting is open)

#1 or #2

First reflection

deep in the night
lantern on a pier
lit and trembling
dark waves below

a voice, a shiver, a passing cloud,
a house with a garden
I can barely see

First reflection

deep in the night
lantern on a pier
lit and trembling
water at the base

a voice, a shiver, a passing cloud,
a house with a garden
I can barely trace

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Alice: Introducing the White Witch

Here’s a passage from my post-apocalyptic adult hippie fairy tale, Alice, introducing Christopher and the white witch.

xxx

Rat a tap tap. Christopher knocked at the cabin door of Alice and Evelyn. He didn’t really have to knock but it seemed polite, in case they were making love or having an argument. Alice and Evelyn didn’t really have arguments but politeness doesn’t always speak to what is but to what ought to be. And it was written somewhere that lovers ought to make love and ought to have lovers’ quarrels from time to time.

Alice opened the door.

“Christopher,” she smiled. “It’s so nice to see you.”

“Were you making love or having an argument?” asked Christopher.

“No, we were just making sangria for the gathering. Would you like to cut the oranges?”

“Yes,” said Christopher, and in they went.

Christopher was a regular guest, so there was nothing unusual about his visit. He occasionally came and sometimes spent the night. Sometimes he came because he was making a new map and reassessing the territory. Sometimes he came to help Alice and Evelyn in the garden or with the water lines. With his sandy surfer hair and his clear hazel eyes, Christopher had a mild-mannered way that made him well-liked in New Arcadia. But there was a physicality to his presence too, an outdoorsy vitality, slim but solid, that was almost rugged. He had a light beard and mustache, but nothing like John Wilson’s mustache. Nothing. And Christopher was practical, too. It’s always nice to have someone practical around.

“Making maps and helping with the water lines go together,” he said.

“Why?” asked Alice.

“I can’t tell you,” said Christopher.

“Why not?

“Because everyone needs his own mystery.”

“That’s just the way Christopher is,” Evelyn would later tell Alice. As if Alice didn’t know.

Christopher lived across the woods. You have to bypass both the factory and the hamlet to get there. His lover, Freyda, would sometimes tell him, “Christopher, why don’t you go spend the night with Alice and Evelyn?”

When she said this, he knew that she had night work to do. Her night work was maintaining the music of the spheres. The fairies couldn’t do everything. The music of the spheres must always play, but now and then one must tune the imaginary instruments. “Sort of like an organ,” Freyda would say, her red locks cascading down in a flame. “But with many trap doors hiding tiny mechanisms that are constantly changing. Sometimes they change so fast, you open a door and fix something and before you can close the door it changes into something else.”

No one could verify exactly what Freyda meant because, of course, the instrument was imaginary. But one thing everyone could vouch for – keeping it tuned was the task of the white witch. The fairies couldn’t do it. Freyda was the white witch.

xxx

See other Alice excerpts here and here.

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Of gas stoves and football helmets

I couldn’t care less about what will one day be known as The Amazing 2023 Gas Stove Incident, in which the feds consider banning gas stoves, except that it’s a segue to my own safety pet peeve: cars. Everyone knows that car accidents are a leading cause of death and of traumatic brain injury. Every sane person must also know that wearing football helmets while driving would reduce these deaths and brain injuries. So why no mandate for football helmets? We could argue about percentages, but that some lives would be saved is indisputable. And think of the savings in hospitalization. Not to mention the carbon footprint of all those ambulances and hospital machines using up resources to keep brain damaged accident victims alive. I’d start a Change.org petition if I could figure out how. Meanwhile, please ramp up the buzz:

MANDATED FOOTBALL HELMETS IN CARS!

Rest assured. If I sustain a head injury in an auto accident, I will sue my local, state, and federal government for their negligence in not forcing me to wear my helmet. And in the continued spirit of civic zeal, I will spend every penny of my settlement not on myself but on my next public safety project – rubber bumpers on cowboy boots – you know, the kind of bumpers they use for kids in bowling alleys. Why? As a sometime hippie in a honky tonk, I can tell you those damn boots can do real harm. Well, maybe not as much real harm as the harmful words Stanford has recently vowed to eliminate, but to be fair, any physical violence would fall short of the carnage caused by such words as “walk-in,” “tone deaf,” “submit,” “field” and “you guys” – all on the Stanford chopping block. My “boots with bumpers” law may not save as many people from harm as Stanford’s forbidden words list, but if it saves even one stray hippie from hospitalization or death, isn’t one life worth it?

Until next time . . .

BETTER SAFE THAN SORRY!

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Kyoto haikus

.  road to okini

the old woman stoops
weight of a thousand worries
she turns to and smiles

.  otagi-nenbutsu

stone buddhas pepper
the field, the temple, two claps
bend into a bow

.  gioji

a river, a wooden teahouse,
a painted face in the window
a princess worn and awaiting
a bamboo hewer’s return

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Bestselling musical artists of all time

Here are Wikipedia’s bestselling musical artists of all time (top 5). Interesting to note that the band with the all-time most sales had a much shorter active period than the others.

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Just kill me

Everyone liked the second version of my previous slant haiku. JMN and Isha in particular liked the firmer closure. I think their observations were correct. As I was finalizing, though, I realized that they had enlightened me in reverse. I wanted a little opening in that closure, a little space for melancholia to leak in. But I did not want to revert to the rejected draft. So for now I have this. Just kill me.

or cp.

Addendum: I just re-read them and now I like the one everyone chose last time the best. Forgive me.

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