Occasionally the coast of Oregon offers up a perfect day…
at least a perfect day for us naked apes. We recently spent such a day lolling on the shore at Neskowin, Oregon with Martha and her husband Steven. Steven has scribed out a living as a journalist and is currently wrestling with his first novel; but first and foremost Steven is a storyteller. He claims a direct lineage to the originators of the term “coach potato”, a casual relationship with the Bigfoot impersonator behind the oh-so-famous striding Sasquatch image, and the recipient – or was it instigator – of a French kiss from/with Janis Joplin backstage at the original Fillmore auditorium.
There are no credible reasons to deny such claims from as original and uniquely experienced a fellow as Steven. But curiously, he is by his own admission a Luddite when it comes to technology, and regards this blog and blogs in general with weary tolerance – which is a shame because he has some killer tales that need to get to the outer side of his creative noggin. Luckily, after the afternoon together at Neskowin, blathering on about writing, we eventually committed a few lines to our respective projects, and when asked if he would contribute some of his work to Friends’ Folly in Some Gumbo, Steven agreed.
No, I didn’t scoop the Joplin story but did receive a damp, salty sheet of notebook paper from Mr. Amick with the following three poems…for which I am grateful. DA
Beach Flash
I feel my blood-connection
to the Pacific Sea
Electric salt-surf serum
rushing into me
Moonlight dancing essence
flashing phosphorescence
Standing on the shore
feeling so much more
than in the city
– Steven Amick
Hey Baby
One of three virgins
slid from the library steps
and winked at me
while biting her pen
– Steven Amick
Ahhh…
There is nothing like the bliss
of a piss
not quite too late
– Steven Amick