with a ringing in my ears

Drawn out

2010-12-04T15:18:00.000-08:00

Frost has command now
the grass will lay low
such a drawn out feeling
on the drive home
explosion of colour
exited too soon
snow clouds move in
close it all out.

Thought

2010-06-06T14:05:00.000-07:00

An empty shell just knocked about
hollow drummings of yesterdays?
sounds drift in-
wind, plane, a shout
add to the jumble
process for future reference.

Passed by

2010-05-25T18:21:00.000-07:00

Random thoughts sent out
as chaff to the wind?
or flotsam scattered when the maelstrom quits?
could be little more
then a common sight passed by.

treasure

2010-04-11T12:12:00.000-07:00

The eye of the treasure
a glimmer for me
found, lost, hidden
rarely attained for free

2010-04-01T18:41:00.000-07:00

Ill gotten is far from free
a pandered out prospect
you soon shall see
to hoard it all close
the guilty gamblers glee
consumed till the end
until fates final fee

2010-02-27T11:52:00.000-08:00

Need I love you? Why?
The heart-song a joy lit chorus
filters through the wood-lot
stops to pause at the meandering
stream of dreams
to scoop deeply into its' waters
a hearty refreshing draught! Soothing life-spring
can one not wait to quicken the steps?
light airy foot-falls, treadings that glide
above the forest path, a journey-road
leading to you. Dancing eyes that tease a smile
parted lips issuing the glad tune
an embrace to settle a longing in the soul.

Is it a mirage rising from the road-bed?
a thirst for cool refreshment,
hot dust with each foot fall
The quarry-man will pause, think of quiet meadows
return to life's work, pick-bites on the earth
a search for something, somewhere
butterfly that can not be grasped
rise into the blue heaven of sky
disappear into the wood lot.

seen to be...

2010-02-07T15:40:00.000-08:00

It was thought the cause-reaction contained elements that, seen to be relevant, might pan out in the long run. I for one was not so sure. Seemed more 'mamby-pamby' to me and I wanted none of that! A strong fresh draught to breathed deep down into the lungs suited my style better. Why half-step? Indeed, why. "... and away down yonder a catawaller echoed about. Seemed that something of import was stirring..."

what pulls

2009-09-20T16:56:00.000-07:00

What pulls so at imaginations' edge?
A crisp turned page all blended from seasons past?
Could be. Possibly yearnings to add more to the ledger from 'out there'.
Or the sad reality: tethered by chains personally made.
Next season, next year, next time around.

about some time...

2009-06-25T18:52:00.000-07:00

Movement is seen on the horizon
a gentle change in the winds' direction
lingering posture as if listening,
watching
the nervous drumming of fingers
on the desk top
on the car fender
it is about some time
about some time now.

In the crowd

2009-06-07T12:14:00.000-07:00

I haunted the crowd
like some lost spectre
in search of...who?
and of what to say?
A pause now and then
free-flow chit-chat
easy laughter, hugs, slaps on backs
then a return to wandering,
sifting through humanity-
A quiet exit.

Add it too

2009-05-24T18:45:00.000-07:00

When the swirl of it all finds its' pause and the dusty maze stands none too tall
a parched lipped word began, staggers to a fall
caught in a fatal drift, endless possibilities start to shift
bow down, the eyes won't lift
can it be an end? No, that defeated thought to bend
cracked to the quick, never to mend
The scent of something fair chances by, then where?
pick up the step: a dream is the dare.

Related Thought

2009-05-07T18:27:00.000-07:00

" It was an interesting look into the fascinating maze of the human mind..." I snapped to, but the conversation had, what? Moved on? Looking about no connection could be made to any one at hand. I had been in a semi-doze...I think. Or just remembering. In-a-fish-bowl-feeling crept up again. I wiped my forehead, but no sweat was evident and a deep breath just brought on a coughing fit. Biting my lower lip I gave a quick pan of the room then lowered my eyes, focusing on my nervous hands.

Storm Watch

2009-05-03T14:00:00.000-07:00

Yesterday afternoon the sky dropped down and one wicked storm issued forth. I've never seen one with such violent intent. The hedges bordering the backyard bowed with the crazy dance and surprisingly, only one tree ended roots-up. The fear went a notch higher as the gusting wind made a radical change in direction. Of course before long the dark grey gave way to puffy white on blue.( Make your own correlation to life in general). An hour latter I had the rock saw out... all is good, spring is interesting.

Realy?

2009-04-07T18:07:00.000-07:00

Just wait for what? What a long dry spell. I recon that is the way of the blog. Can afford to get chatty once more. But who will read it? Been a slim time of it even in the past. Must just mostly serve for me to air out the toys in the attic. Or have I surely gone fishing? That is for others to state. But for me to yammer away...

Warm weather, what a long winter it was. The daffodills were the latest I can ever remember them showing. But they have been lasting longer, so that is fine with me. Tulips are fixin' to let loose and I want to get in my rig and drive out for rockhounding. Thats my thing. What? You got a problem with that? You can just take it up with, well, with some one else baby! I'm rockin' on outta here soon as possible. Lay low: getting old.

just wait

2008-10-05T18:09:00.000-07:00

cold haphazard statement
filtered gray cloud
stuff hands deeper into pockets
a mumbled walk
looking forwards to... what?
hard eddies pull and drag
a fetching sound on the wind
touch things only with the eyes
turn back and head home
just wait

fabrication

2008-09-21T12:39:00.000-07:00

The last day of summer? Quite right it is and that is the way it is. Awoke this morning to the fact that it rained sometime in the early a.m. The best part of it all is that I do not have to be going back to school. I had a great dislike for school, although college was a bit tolerable. But the feeling that I get every fall stays the same (and no: I won't get into what "that feeling" is. It would just come off as one of them "tourtored soul longing to be freed" kind of lame-o thingies. It is valid, though). So I says to myself:" That is an awkward way to say something to yourself." And I could totally groove to that concept. You know, I want to make a milkshake today and damn the lactose intolerance stuff. Peach or blackberry strike me as top contenders.

in the woods

2008-08-28T19:23:00.000-07:00

... then since the property is basically covered with lodge pole pine I saw down enough to put up a buck-n-pole fence across the front of the place: standard five and a half foot bucks, eleven foot poles. Pines have a nice scent. I even like the smell of cut juniper and who could argue with the fragrance put out by cedar? (well, moths maybe), and even if your nose has never had the pleasure you would know sugar pine right off the bat. And on a wet day while in pursuit of winter steel head the odor put out by the combination of doug fir, hemlock, vine maple, etc. on a coast stream makes one quiet...I'll finish that fence tonight in my dreams.

A malaise

2008-08-24T14:24:00.000-07:00

A general malaise has set in
augmented by a hollowness
inside. Brooding and unsettled.
Where to nurse this departure from normalcy?
With a pocket full of dough
and time pestering someone
else, it is a far off place
I'm headed. The best way
to hide out is in the open, a
different race from the locals,
and not hindered by knowledge of
the language. Slowly work up and down
the beach, setting sun
playing on the waves. Thoughts
no deeper then how far my toes
sink into the sand, save for pondering
how gentle the breeze
moves her hair about her shoulders.
Such a sweet shared smile we enjoy,
then off she runs with a teasing,
beckoning laugh. And my purpose in
life now? Just to follow her.

Today I think... what?

2008-08-03T15:44:00.000-07:00

Can't quite grasp at what the issue should be. Sweet August, a time like that: issues do not seem to hold much relavance and time wants to just drift by. Make it's own pace, hot dry breeze, leaves a strong green, mud cakes at the ponds shore, wood smoke at night. And aimless rattlings...

what to think...

2008-07-27T10:49:00.000-07:00

Is summer time a tough time to write? Yes it is. Try to live as much outdoors as possible, that is good. The cold weather is the good time to reflect and ponder on possibilities. What are the realities and that which is unrequited: all a part of the big picture. Some dreams are stowaways on the ship of fools. Why must the mind be troubled by what is never to be? Drives me bonkers. Some kind of link mentaly with another?... a fond wish of a fertal imagination. Was it perhaps some dealings out from one met at a lonely crossroads? Shudder at the prospect, but...
It is nice when the cool breese comes through the window late at night to cool the room down and return to untroubled sleep.

Rocks

2008-07-13T12:29:00.000-07:00

Eastern Oregon. Hot. Dusty. Less populated (thus more sane). Rocks. And more rocks. The Ochocos hold a vast assortment of Gods trasures hidden in the good earth. My quarry was thunder eggs and jasper (jasper is just a natural go along with many of the rockhounding searches). Did good in the mountains and for added wonderfulnes headed out to Richardsons' Ranch just north of Madras to dig in the rich thunderegg beds they have. Bunk, nada at the blue bed (I think under water), strangeness at the flat bed (but some wicked awsome flame red jasper streaking the hard rock!). The red bed: oh yeah baby, thats the spot. Got some nice ones, but since I had wasted so much time at the two other places I had to cut short my digging to get back down to the ranch house to pay for them and get them cut. Only set me back a little over 20 bucks for over a dozen rocks\cutting. Will get them polished locally. You know, two other beds I have yet to check out. One is said to have a wonderful red moss agate matrix... I must return! And soon! And buy a slab saw and a trim saw and a cab machine to facilitate the polishing of said rocks...

been doin'...

2008-06-29T10:55:00.000-07:00

Been doing the painting thing. Some are hits, some are misses. A dude just gets up and heads on down the road regardless. Inspiration: the key to the rhyme. Got a fresh batch of rocks in the tumbler. Mostly jaspers, a few agates. The sunstones and obsidians put a sore temptation my way, but they need to be tumbled strictly alone. No mineral mixation here. Ah, them jaspers! They coyly put out hints of the beauty only revealed by the polishing process. The winners! Rock tumbling is a good study of delayed gratification. Won't have an idea of the end product for maybe 10 days, whial a strictly proper polishing is around 21 days. And the clinking is 24/7.

friend

2008-06-15T13:40:00.000-07:00

warmth of kind words
from a friend dear
the emotional surge
happiness not to fear
added to this world
a bit more sense
glad banners unfurled
gloom relents

spoken

2008-06-01T12:06:00.000-07:00

Wonderfully thought out lines
wit, insights, clever
served up tripping, faltering
whacked out
what is prose?
can words be spoken gold
not dished out plastic?
A pencil gives better service
then the tongue
cocktail party circuit: no invites
wouldn't go, couldn't go
a conversation in my mind
works much better.

2008-05-25T11:51:00.000-07:00

I have a real good job, been at it for 7 months and for the last week and a half have a part time fill in for someone job. So, it's 8 hours, home and boom 4 more. Not too bad really and it is only for about two, three weeks longer but the gist of it is, is that the part time temporary evening one is at the place I had been given the boot from two years ago. Was never really given satisfactory reasons behind my termination ("bad attitude, slipping work performance" could have given me a hint beforehand ya bunch of...).Over 5 years at this place and "see ya. Scram". I really liked my coworkers and the kids (obvious now a school is a part of it). I went through a long period where I felt like a child who had been kicked out of a family for no real reason. Took a long time to get back on my feet, but resiliency is strong. True I was the lowest on the totem and I didn't really cotton to being a janitor, but it was the people that made it bearable,with a few exceptions who made it unbearable, but the past is so yesterday, eh?Sometimes I would invest great imaginative time to come up with a witty line or two in my quest to grasp a moment of attention ( I'm an introvert, but I do have my needy moments truth be told). I'm thinking maybe I really was not some evil lazy suspected critter warranting dismissal, obviously I would not have been approached to fill in. I know I did get on the bad side of at least one ,maybe more of the major power players at that place and I've seen them cook goose on folks they loose a shinning to. Plus room was being made to accommodate someone who did not step into the position ( they payed a price for that on, ha!). But as the great disk spins it has all been for the best. It's like ,7 of the teachers are on the way out at the end of this year from that place. Something amiss? Me thinks so. But to shorten this all up I shall gain some closure, and it was nice with all the teachers, students and parents who have come up to me and given me sincere greetings and " I've missed yous". Inward smirks at the power-players? Oh you bet cha. I'm also fortunate my task will be done with and I'll be outta there before everyone else. The center is being lost, now it remains a working facade, but it is gone. Sad but all is good because every day is a happy day. I say so.

Box

2008-05-18T10:59:00.000-07:00

A box with a curious lid
the lid has been divided
into two triangular pieces
they are inlaid with what
looks to be mother-of-pearl
describe the box in my hands
you must put pills inside
describe the box on the coffee table
you will taste mints
describe the box on the floor
a place for blankets and old L.P.s
describe the box in the kitchen
it contains recipes ( I'll loan you the
Banana Bread: it's easy)
describe the box in the garage
it holds cast off nuts and bolts
describe the box hidden
will you fill it with dope?
describe the box buried
a treasure inside
describe the box on the street
an escapee from the trash
describe the box for you?
No, describe it yourself

still good

2008-05-09T17:04:00.000-07:00

You know, I'm thinking that the wander about is a good thought to continue with. Out in the open country. Let me tell ya: this area I live in is just crawling with humanity and to make it even worse is this whole election year cycle (ain't just a year any more).The politicians and the blathering lies they spew out, grotesque (hmm... is 'blathering' a word? well, if not I think it still fits in how it was used). Yeah, the only change I really need is one of scenery. And this thing about 'change' the politicos yak on about, is that all we will have left in our pockets after being taxationed-without-representation ed? I wonder... could become a wanderer by force. Oh well, go to happy place, go to happy place. Ah, better now! Life is good you know.

some thing to do

2008-05-04T19:23:00.000-07:00

What I would like to do when in my older years (how old am I now? You don't know, do you?) is live in a cabin up in the woods. Or better yet out in the desert, the high desert like E. Oregon type of desert. Alone, unshaven, mumble to myself a bit more than I do now... and look around for rocks, I like that, you know. I would be a real good prospector on the look-out for gold. But now I fancy finding thunder eggs, agates, jaspers opals (even if it is the "common" type), petrified wood and all that other jazz. Polish them up, cut them , form them, so much material for my projects! It is wonderful. Take my mind from unrequited love. Moved on to bigger and better things. A life far from mine. I shall wander about that I am good at, and to feel the warm sun.

2008-02-10T17:18:00.000-08:00

Oh for crying out loud- what is going on in this place?
Do we all realy have to...
wait a second, ah that is the proper
way it is suppose to go.
So anyhow I took a little walk yesterday
- the sun kinda came out, the temp
teased at about 50 degrees or so
and I started to think about the
up and coming primaries/election
stuff and, oh for the love of...!
thats what set me off
them bunch of red headed turkey vultures
( quite a common sight out E. Oregon way,
and quite graceful in the way of soaring about)
well I guess I can see where they are leading on.
But the vultures are a bit more honest in
what they are doing, in my opinion. Politicians, ha!

2008-01-27T18:46:00.000-08:00

cold blast put a chill on us
and yes, my toes are kinda numb
don't like that feeling!
so I do not think about it
hot tea
carpet
sit on the couch wearing a brown stocking cap
stupid electric rates up again
my toes are still cold
the new slippers... yes!
now I laugh at the world

painting

2008-01-20T11:37:00.001-08:00

I did something good, or at least I'm feelin' good about it. As '07 was shy into the single digits I managed (after quite a long dry spell) to crank out Two last paintings for the year AND I have already finished one for this year of '08. But why not share any info via Q and A ?
Q: How long do it take to do a painting?
A: I think it would be better to say " how long does it take to finish a painting?"
whatever
Yes, well, who can say? One painting I did took 10 years to finally finish(concept, sketch, guts enough to put oil to canvas). I liked how it tuned out. At other times a day is quite sufficient. Answer your question?
kinda, I guess.
Q: You mentioned oil. Is that your choice of painting medium?
A: Yes it is.
Q: What kind of paintings do you do?
A: Uh, like what do you mean?
Q: You know like dogs and flowers or naked people, or outer spaces thingies...
A: Generally it is in the realm of abstract...
Q: Oh, 'cause you can't paint real good...
A: No it is not because I can't 'paint real good'! Some times I will delve into something that is kind of realistic looking. In the proper light of course...
Q: But no outer space thingies?
A: Not yet but that may be a possibility in the future.
Q: Come check me out because I got some great ideas.
A: Right.
Q: Have ya ever sold any thing?
A: I'm sure I once sold one for .13 cents, yeah, and I've given some away...
Q: OH, so it is not a " I'm gonna feed myself doin' this" kind of gig?
A: that's about right.
Q: Do you like painting?
A: You got it right, spankie!
Q: Why oil?
A: Well, at times I'm not so bright, hence oil has its' frustration aspect. Some paintings I have done I like 'em right from the get-go, others it takes me awhile to warm up to. And of course some are 'gonna paint over that!'
Q: Sounds truly mildly impressive. Have any other artsy things you pursue?
A: I use to love doing the ceramics thing, wood working is fun (in conjunction with stones/jewelry), leather crafts and screen plays, to mention a few.
Q: Can we hear more about that other stuff?
A: Maybe latter.

2008-01-20T10:45:00.000-08:00

Is it resolution or mental revolution? How do we rectify our outward change? Rewrite the whole shebang? Nay,that is akin to re noodling our reality. Rush in, regret latter. Or really savor the results, hmm... stay sharp, ramble on.

the happy happy glad glad feeling is getting the go to start up soon. why? even though we definitely have a spankin' lot of cold winter time left to endure the post holiday blues have waned (hopefully for you all too) and thoughts of spring pull in. more daylight is evident. crocus, daffodil, and even tulip have pushed above ground. i'm thinking of wonderful trips to take( of course tripping over a bag of money could really help to facilitate that idea, oh yeah).

first week...

2007-11-30T17:32:00.000-08:00

first week is done, and a pay check is on the way! It is all new and a bit on the confusing side but I expect that. A major nasty storm is on its' way, the news folks say, snow Saturday, then the remnants of two typhoons will blow in. Kind of neat. Would be even better to see the storm blowing in at the coast (high above the surf zone, naturally). To face into the van guard of the storm...

good break

2007-11-19T17:51:00.000-08:00

as fate would dictate (or, uh, something like that) a job with prospects has been landed. nice boss great co-workers.

The rains are slatted to slack off the next few days, possibly to and past Thanksgiving. I like the fall. A major case of restlessness really hits me hard, though. Wishing I could take flight with the geese or enter some quiet wood lot and catch the sight of sprites and fairies intent on whatever secret things sprites and fairies do. And it is possible to catch sight of them, only mostly we write it off as that singularly peculiar wisp of mist alone in the trees, low to the ground. our own vanity of smarty-pantsness excludes the existence of such wonderfulness. Fall is the time they most often give us a chance to see them. On the cusp of another time or dimension... I'm not sure.

good times as ordered

2007-11-18T15:00:00.000-08:00

strange when a break comes about it will catch you by not surprise so much as shock I guess. especially when the dream is put on the back burner where it has stewed for the longest of time. a forever time most likely. well, stability and a type of security are presented: it wins over fighting for that gossamer fulfillment. it's a stinking shame it is. others will be happy. fighting responsibility makes one tired out. Onward!

Possum Trail

2007-11-08T16:09:00.000-08:00

A possum is on my trail
it has me, running scared
'cause as I pass knocked over trash cans,
gutters filled with filth,
road killed critters
and places made of disgust
more possums fall into the ranks...
I know behind me, while making my way
past leafless trees,
the moon shines on pink eyes
following my smell
following my sound-
The clouds scud across the sky
not even the dank stench
of rotting vegetation
halts the sting of sweat dripping
into my eyes
can't cry
no wings, can't fly
spiders laughing
the webbing clinging to my face
My fear projects images
sound of possum breath behind me
branches have snakes with tongues
licking at me
a vicious water lizard
flies past my brain
around a thorn bush
stops to rest on a cows' glistening
white skull
then up again past a mosquito sump
to tell the possums I have taken
the trail to the left-
Air! oh air!
my lungs scream for more
the mildew odor tries to trick me,
to trick me into retching
a root snatches at my foot
mud spits to my face
heart: at max rate
adrenaline peaking out
muscles starting to burn out
joints swelling
bones begging
I look up to green moss, see the mist
clinging in droplets
raise up to lick the moisture
but the sounds, the sounds of the possums
eliminates my one joy this nite-
A road is crossed
a car spotted
two teenagers having sex
they see me
they see the possums
they lock the doors
refuse my screams for help
and go back to adolescent lust
(the radio pumping out retro-disco)
with a new horror
I claw my way up the road
thru a ditch, over a fence-
the possums pass the car
giving wide berth to the radials
They follow me
into the field
no trees, no bushes, no grass
nothing to hide the sight
of the possums when I glance back
But no, wait!
what are these hideous things
popping up in front of me?
with dark black eyes
speaking of wormy things
they bite at my shoes
a few are not lucky:
they get their heads crushed
from my treading by
there fellow gophers
fall upon the hapless ones
enjoy an orgy, cannibalistic feast
meat, blood, guts fling about
but the possums, so intent, too intent
do not stop
they follow me-
I cry to heaven
while skirting the shore of a marsh
fox and coyote snarl at me
then hide from the possums-
I know God can not help me
I fell no anger from this
no remorse
small bits of self pity, yes
but perhaps he shall see
his way to give me a chainsaw
when the final confrontation
between possums and I
comes to a head.
My mind snaps clear
with the sight of dead
carp and squaw fish
littering the surface of the water
I know mosquito larvae enjoy
existing amongst the carcases
a weasel makes a meal
of a rather large specimen of carp
watching me run by,watching possums run by-
The hour, I don't know
which day? late at night, early morning?
The moon rides low now
perched above the bald lifeless hills
smugly observing
making bets
setting odds
with the stars.
And I look up to the stars for help
but they exist far away in a frozen sky
mutely watching
the attitude they showed me
was so cold it would have frozen tears to my cheeks
the sorrow swept over me so complete
that all I could do was refuse to cry
and let the frost pass thru me
as if
I were
a sieve-
How long has this race been?
this hunt?
or purge..?
now my legs numbly carry me
I can run without feeling
the horror so complete it becomes my friend
sorrow, a pleasant lover
total abandonment, it is what I seek
The distance between my foe and myself
does not increase nor decrease
I bother not to turn my head
to monitor their progress
for my eyes are clouded
my pace I seek not to increase:
the blistered feet long ago soaked my shoes
with bold, and the pain
every second to every hour
a pleasant sensation
muscles knotted tight like the funeral drum
perhaps my bones are the sticks
the drummer strikes the head with.
Should I laugh? I think it has been years
since I laughed
a lifetime long ago my run was forced
a bats' sharp claws scratch my face
I sigh, shrug it off-
The moon is gone the sky seems strange
complete darkness is to be the rule
but things appear grey, stark, naked
a new chill drift by and the sky, by clicks, gets bright
The sun!yes,yes I remember it now
but at least an hour remains and an idea
a destruction
has begun to entertain my mind:
stop, lay down, let those beasts, those possums
take you
it would be so much easier
quit this race, it's obvious they never tire
and I am-
Half the sun now shows above the horizon
the mist is easily seen swirling around my moving legs
I fear it, but I chance a look behind me
something chokes in my throat
I almost stumble
the army of possums behind me
is larger then my imagination had built it-
a mutted scream is silenced half way out.
The ground increases in elevation
until it becomes a steep hill man made of rock
and sharp concrete blocks
weeds and stickers and thorns
grow where a grain of dirt happens to have landed
my ankles fail to negotiate this new terrain properly
twisting, turning, screaming
the possums have no trouble
on all fours they push on and on
I struggle, breath, move
I am at the steepest point
I can only move on hands and feet and knees
broken glass cuts my hands shreds my pants and knees
slides under my feet
pull,pull, I pull myself upwards
rocks bruise the skin
A familiar sound I hear but don't quite remember
a reflector finds my hand, I pull myself higher
I am at a freeway, it is crowded
morning rush hour
horns bite at my ears
I dash across with one last thought
breaks scream, acceleration is heard
ugly faces contort before me
the front of an economy car finds me
sends me sailing the ten feet
to where the guard rail separating north and south bound
stops me
a rib experiences the sensation of fracture
half laying half sitting
I watch the possums at the other side
victory on faces, they know my will is destroyed
I sit and stare, they move, lunge
but so do cars
bodies become compressed beneath tires- gore squirts
the road is splattered with possums
rear ranks continue to move forward
continue to go squish
vehicles slide on the slick goo
loose control, bounce off each other
one slides off the road, it explodes
the smoke tells me so
the suicide, the duty, continues-
a possum makes it to within three feet of me
its' jaws are open
drool dripping from yellowed teeth
I smell the stench of it, prepare for its' attack
but it explodes as a Mac truck
finds it unawares
a hunk of intestine splashes not five inches from my face.
I look and see that not one possum survives
they have all become victims of the road
of the tire
I look at a man drive by
he looks back
his hand goes up, middle finger high
mean faces stare back at me
cuss words, phrases of filth come from the cars
a school bus drives by
the children laugh, point, spit.
The sun shines now
I curl up against the concrete
and let it wash me.

end

Nice day. Time to write.

2007-11-04T18:29:00.000-08:00

Had a wonderful walk in the woods today with my good friend... I'm on borrowed time and felt the need to jot something down ( got this blog for a reason). But I have been pondering what to start out with. Stray ramblings work, but mostly just for me. I did remark that today was such that it would be nice to be a bird and fly here and fly there just to see it all or maybe just to cram it all into that fleeting feeling a warm fall day issues out . I recon so. Yeah, Ill start out with Possum Trails. Has nothing to do with the wonderful day today, and it is old, written in the bounce-about-flux of time when all seemed possible and sarcastic at the same. But before Possum Trails can be written (for I must find where the copy of it is) I must set the stage with these two...

Possum Prance

we drink
we drug
we feel so smug
we roam the roads at nite
'cause if by chance a possums' pranced
we kill it on the spot.

Pre Possum Trails

see the possum race
will the radials win again?
some have mirth
some disgust
a few: blood lust
but for the carrion eaters
happiness.

I shall look for it now.