All day a clear sky. And then suddenly (it seems) at four o’clock— A fleet of thin, white clouds trespasses from the north. Stealthy and silent—ethereal submarines in the sky— They slowly, steadily head south. Slow-going, more keep coming. Infiltrating the vast blue. Gathering gradually—and in no hurry—they pass under the radar. Underneath the sun. […]Read more "LOW THE COWS"
The crabgrass was sunk under the bayou dew. Imprinted about were lazy logos: brown blooms of the orchid, puttyroot. Somewhere, far off, sang a child trapped in a woman’s body. She sang of a God in another land. But her song was lost in the call for fish: “Spadefish for frying! Get […]Read more "A DEPOT OF DAYS"
[With apologies to God and Jesus Christ] I swore I wouldn’t swear. Swear to God. I swear I did. But then…something happened. I tripped…or dropped something…or who-knows-what. And expletives blew forth from my mouth. And, like bullets shot from a gun, I couldn’t catch them. Nor bring them back. Remorse set in. […]Read more "I SOLEMNLY SWEAR"
“In the 1970s I bought an antique desk. When I got it home, I found one single piece of paper way back in one of the drawers. I don’t know who wrote it but I have saved it all these years. I think you’ll see why. Enjoy!”Read more "Rat Durds"
Language. What a concept. And more and more the American English language gets truncated into acronyms. Not that we didn’t have plenty before. But texting has taken it to another level. A new kind of Morse code: r u ok bc i nd 2 no. And so forth. BTW. LOL. LMAO. FWB. OMG. Most […]Read more "XYZ"
Why are you crying, my Dear? Because everything is so poignant. So poignant. The morning light through the white paper blinds stuns me…especially in the living room where the floor-to-ceiling windows face east. And THAT makes you cry? Yes. The majesty of east, facing east, looking eastward…holy, regal, primal light one bows to, bows […]Read more "CONVERSATION WITH THE SELF"
There. By the side of the road. A mound of branches and tree limbs. Leafless. Like a giant, overturned bird’s nest. Which isn’t far-fetched. Birds like brush piles. And all sorts of critters do too. But some people think it’s nothing but trash. Debris to be removed. Or burned. Not the birds. They like to […]Read more "ODE TO A BRUSH PILE"