Non-Neurotic Red

A hit, a palpable hit. Two exceptional grapes for one extraordinary wine! A wide sweep of sky trimmed to fit inside a manicured aperture of an open. Nose to tongue and back, the rows of daffodils and queen ann's lace lay open the long low paths and channels. The sun is well ordered on their stones. Squares of wildgrowth grows unwild. Crumpled up newspaper blows through on a wind from over the bay. The garden is walled and covered in ivy, but the wind, paper, dampness blow right on through. Trash in and on the silty gale. The two grapes mix without blending, kindling parallel developments and inconstancy. Nor bicker nor support nor insist nor yield.

Through the kimber the pallid day passes in mirthiness and laze. Triumph is ad hoc and that's the way, uh-huh, I like it. Uh-huh, uh-huh. The world here is built very slowly, brick by perfect brick. Brick by brick. Brick by brick.

One brick, two brick.
One brick, two brick

The kimber is the taming of nature, the ordering of mutation. The care of laying it out one brick at a time and measuring each one just in case, and checking the mortar, and using a level, and using union workers, and using a sextant, and using genuine secondary fermentation, and wrapping each cheese in burlap and laying her in with her sisters to age in the cave, and crystallized pineapple and wild sugarcane and long yellow light in the hollow of the shore and a little bit of noise and things which are well-tempered as in the following exchange"

"I say, that Mr. Bach's clavier is certainly well tempered."
"Quiet, you!"

The kamber is the world of wind and ghosts. Newspages blow on that ocean wind with impossible black outline. It swirls and spirals and there is a cloud with a big puffed-out-cheek face.
To measure is to not measure. Yellow is blue. A stillness of motion that does not quiver. At the kamber dewpoint a ringed sphere of ochre and iridescent bluered grasp at each other's mistiness. Particles all over the place and no two a match. At least growths of weeds help find the corner pieces.

Knots tie themselves together out of air, out of smoke, out of nettles, out of cigar box, out of paint, out of cold front, out of coconuts and raisins, but not grapes, and figs, but not fresh figs, and dates, but not fresh dates, and olives, but not raw olives with salted almonds and raisins that twist itself and ties tight around an empty collar, as in the following exchange:

"I say, that Mr. Bullshit's bullshit is certainly fresh."
"This is the land of wind and ghosts."

The last day of one is the other. It can be overwhelming, even ambivalized. Two objects can't take up the same etc. etc. etc. The last day of spring is summer. The last day of one is the other. The last day of failure is success. The last day of life is death. The last day of earth is earth. The last day of kamber is kimber. The last day of kimber is kamber. The last day of one is the other. etc. etc. etc.

The multi-finish benefits from sympathetic vibration and amplitude shift. The kimber fades first in an Euler's ring of sound and physic. It gets quieter and faster until it is silent and infinite. The kamber is nude descending a staircase, isn't impressed with small town manners or cooking, deepens itself out and up. Always out and up. A quiet but penetrating note, as from a bell or a gong or a really special bell. The finish rings impossibly true with the sound of gold.

Varietals: Kimber, Kamber
Food Pairing: Zen

Prospect Purple Rose

A last quarter of a ravished pint of ben & jerry's, chewed beyond flavor, rennet and milky, put back in the freezer for tomorrow or a few hours from now. Too light! Too light, the mocking carton burns with once and twice. Things unfinished snarl through the deep mulberry bushes lining the path. Things unstarted follow along and nip at the heels. Dark vines curl down from the canopy and drop their ripe wet plums on the drumhead of tangentialism. A taste like a disembodied wave pushed through the straw of a scallion. The beer you never wanted, the easy path. A lithe and lovely porridge-burn turns up the static all around, crowds out a place to attack from, crowds out the lemonade spring, crowds out the real opportunity of the night, crowds out the fevered dream of a madman, crowds out arsenic and copper fillings, crowds out mulchy rotting tree trunks, crowds out dusty water bottle, crowds out the resin hit you never wanted, crowds out the colors besides purple, crowds out feeling good enough, crowds out music, crowds out mulch, crowds out misty morning mushrooms.

The static you never wanted opens the door for the guests you never wanted bring in the beer you never wanted lays down the static you never wanted.

The wine always swirls clockwise, the glass rotates counter. That's the way we get by, way we get by, the way we get by. The long silence you never wanted, always wanted, never wanted. The firey vines hanging down curling up hanging down over the path. The perfect fall day you never wanted lays on the static and the broadcast never gets through. The piquant marble cake broadcast never gets through. The first honest words never get through. The purity of spirit never gets through. The moroccan cinnamons never get through, the bitter almond never gets through, the bright words of metaphor never get through, the proud longings never get through, the discouragement never gets through, the decompression never gets through, the delivery never gets delivered.

The long silence you always wanted lets everything through, the dangled bunch of bait flowers, the secret of the vanilla podules, the million years of settling in, the million years of growth, the million years of symbiotic growth, the million kinds of potency, the million men of yeast, the millions of millions.

The stasis you never wanted is static. The present you never wanted crowds out the future. There is only the deadly long finish crowding out the static even, crowding out the beginning, reprising the earliest themes, the first motes, the most helpless.

Varietals: Command, water rights, greenbacks
Food Pairing: Turn the spit on that pig, kick the drum and let me down. Put my clarinet beneath your bed til I get back in town.

Last Minute Merlot

Grapey, grainy, grippy, grippy, granola. Hooray for the mulberry leaves! Hooray for the easy drinkability! Hooray for you! Hooray for me! Hooray for the long days of summer!
Buggy, hot, humid, dirty, rough, regretful. Give it up for laziness, for artichoke blossoms, for someone else's troubles. Give it up for a 50th birthday party. Give it up for one with one hundred zeroes. Give it up for russian dolls, fruit punch, thick hot chocolate with spicy hot pepper mixed. Give it up for gimmicks. Give it up for twist endings. Give it up for a special frame.
Pairs well with seven jewish children, doncha know? Hot dish with marshmallow on top? What the hell. Don't supply your oxygen too readily to the palate without proper ventilation first, without proper Y chromosomes showing you the way from teh sky to the ground and a gentle marzipan landing. It's like candyland in here, or the lockers of the gay men's health crisis. The latino health crisis, the gods of files, the giant olive frog, the grilled onion fritters, the gammy orthopedic filling, the green ornamental frump, the gladly owned family, the gimped out fucktoy, the garrish ocean fires. The small grey can drinks from the lazy dog and you drink from the lazy, late harvest, overweaned, underappreciated, outer ringed, keg of glory. All in all it's just another brick in the wall.
Winters in spain, some dogs barking at your hells, some people have all the luck and sometimes there's nothing left to do put some more oak in, leave it for a few generations, hope mankind survives, hope our tongues don't evolve into moderate psychopaths.
A grand old flag, a high flying flag. A glowing purple amulet buried in the mud. Supersmart mice from experiments get some help from a passing crow who don't know nothing but love, red currant juice, celery salt, fresh varnish, hopeful puppydog eyes, and cream.
Such a finish! What a finish. Did you see the finish? Oh I'm having a heart attack for this finish, so smooth and silky and silty and satinate. What a finish! Brown and red flecks in a perfect receding iris through the glass of glasses through the glass of the window of the train as it pulls away into more receptive climes. Not a hint of sorrow. Not a bit of loss, except for the long list of big ones. Sweet and happy.

Varietal: Low bridge, everybody down
Food Pairing: Matzah brie with or without salmon

Zeitgeist Childhood Merlot

A classic example. Part www.nick.com/kca, part nick.com/kca. Sunlit valleys of nick kca provide a perfect habitat for rich mulchy nick/kca. Spirals within spirals and light within light. A dirty kluge, a mousetrap of danish buttercream and ashley biden. Powerful notes of www.nick/kca and airport 1975. Villanova university dances trippingly 'cross the tongue, asserts itself to a climax of nickelodeon/kca.
The main flaw in all this is the stunted useless finish. A mite of midnight bayou and then a flabby cardboard nick.com kca. By the time the kids choice awards fades out there's hardly any slums of beverly hills to bring it to a satisfying close.
Still and all, a good bottle for the price. Try pairing it with bemidji state university or nickelodeon kca. Just like heaven, the tar brings out the ochre midnight bayou by nora roberts. Powerful villanova basketball clears out a path for polar storm and scottie reynolds to villanova location, if they wish. A boxed up my big fat greek wedding villanova colleges at you, but not in a bad way, really. Worth a try anyway.

Varietal: Airport 75
Food Pairing: Aladdin

Nonesuch Evermore

Self-assured and well dressed, but drafty. Comes on strong with strong strength and long length. Hits on a twelve against a seven. Hits on a ten against a ten. Doubles down on a soft fourteen or fifteen against a four, five or six. Stays on fourteen against a five. Yeasty notes of overturned wheelbarrow split eights against pretty much anything. An overmalted finish brings out the particular sort of fellow in the small town on the Alaskan Riviera.
An excellent wine to order at dinner with a statuesque beauty who loves you despite your money and whom you love despite her beautiful statuesquitude. God, look at her with her hair up like that. Drink it because there has never been a neck like that before and there may never be one again. Drink it because it’s not the night of the proposal but that’s been scheduled, in your head, in your plans. Drink it now because it’s never going to come out as perfect as you imagine. The columns of dry cherry bring out the fat gut and otolaryncologist son you never had.
Spinning dryly into semi-eternity, there’s not much left to scrape out of the bottom of the dark wood barrel and hint of barrel. Only a splendid sense of belonging to a group that ought to be better than dark green lawn clippings, pencil shavings, and dirty smock. Membership is exclusive and has its privileges, one of which is not a finish of heavy ground smoke.
Drink it on a night much like tonight. In fact, tonight’s the anniversary. Drink it in the cab of a truck. Drink it with cheap animation. Drink it with dancing penguins and handcuffs and shave and a haircut, two bits. The two kinds of stolen bicycle wend round the palate and leave an adventure on the mind. Don’t be tempted. There’s nothing yet discovered that can’t be lost. Not even an old rusting shed covered and surrounded in weeds.

Varietals: A-ha!, only when it was funny, purple nurple
Food Pairing: Chips ‘n dip

Ein, Svein, Policein: Riesling

An old oak tree on fire, set on fire by you and your pocket lighter, not that you intended any harm or for anything to get out of control. Rich moist soil piled on the oranged limbs, trunk, roots exposed as flaming the more extinguishing dirt is dug out. The efforts are in vain. The body is full of heat. The edges are constantly changing, can’t be grabbed a hold of, flicker without intent. The fire’s coming up from under all the trees on the block now. It’s in the soil. It’s in the grapes. It’s in the wine.
Butter, nuts, sugar, and other tradable commodities stack up neatly in the dusty old warehouse of the back half. Long faded stamps brand their forgotten destinations. Spiced ground meat swirls up and outward from the center depression of the whirlpool. A miasma of thick card stock and strawberry jam. A hippie dippie band plays whatever feels good and will get past your resistance if you let it. A willowy red head bites down hard and opens a room you didn’t know existed. Shown a little age, shown a little wisdom, knows a little better all that it doesn’t know.
The German vines are stoic and logical with exquisite eyeglasses and bizarre television. You know how many naked chicks they show over there? It’s nuts, and that was the name of the town, pine nut. Cold winters bring out the inherent squirreliness of the yards, the cubicism of cubism, the shrieking of opera.
There's a big old storage room full of junk and valuable junk, juniper and peppercorn. Those who live there will be happy to sell you stuff, very happy, but they live in filth and you can too.
Will try to warn you but won’t be listened to. Will scream and weep like Cassandra. Will hole up all the women in the treasury. Cherry blossoms run past slow and steady tortoises and land in the glass of the world, the wine of the world, the deep color.
Don’t try to lie to yourself. The lazy berries make it impossible.

Varietal: Riesling
Food Pairing: Naked macaronis

Zeitgeist Off-Dry Off-White

Firey in terms of Smokey Robinson. A deep practiced announcement and how sweet it is to be loved by you. You're nothing but a pack of cards, but it's not something that can't be undone. Otherwise, there's a delicate sense of judy ogle. Intractable f22a, barry gordy, and vanessa bryant. Still, the muscular finish puts to bed any lingering fears of valerie bertinelli.
Drink at the government money club. Drink it at the marvin gaye death. Pairs beautifully with a rich spate of john hope franklin or motown songs. Governmentmoneyclub.com brings brian white to mind, but doesn't quite finish the job. Neither does ventresca tuna. There's a temptation to match it with king lear summary. This is not recommended. F22 crash, where the wild things are, broadmoor hotel colorado springs, and noot seear fight for dominance in an absolutely balletic revue of austin weather. Perspiring kxan drips its benny ninja bounty all over the place. Fine wine.

Varietal: Hitsville USA
Food Pairing: kxan weather