Because I feel an obligation to post something, no matter how inane.....

I have been busy as of late. I have been writing short stories and some other stuff that seems to stay in a form of incompleteness. 

Sending out poems and such has a way of taxing my soul.--I am an impatient man..

I have a couple of rewrites to do, and that in itself makes me want to gouge my eyes out with a broken screwdriver. 

Until I finish, I leave you with this, written by someone else who is long dead....

Men Say They Know Many Things

Men say they know many things;
But lo! they have taken wings, —
The arts and sciences,
And a thousand appliances;
The wind that blows
Is all that any body knows.

Henry David Thoreau

Because I feel an obligation to post something, no matter how inane.....

I have been busy as of late. I have been writing short stories and some other stuff that seems to stay in a form of incompleteness. 

Sending out poems and such has a way of taxing my soul.--I am an impatient man..

I have a couple of rewrites to do, and that in itself makes me want to gouge my eyes out with a broken screwdriver. 

Until I finish, I leave you with this, written by someone else who is long dead....

Men Say They Know Many Things

Men say they know many things;
But lo! they have taken wings, —
The arts and sciences,
And a thousand appliances;
The wind that blows
Is all that any body knows.

Henry David Thoreau

Poetry Reading

First poetry reading

in a couple of decades.

I laughed.

I cried.

I sat in awe.

That night I learned:

Georgia Peaches

are FREAKY!

Kansans punch

two year olds,

in the face,

for crying.

During intermission

while smoking a cigar,

playing cool and aloof (who am I kidding?)

I listened to conversations.

One common thread,

among poets who

stay in the game is:

poetry kills the poet-

but what a way to go.

While waiting for the crapper

I was let in on a little known

secret,

(to men)

about women’s public restroom

etiquette.

Women,

whatever you do,

never,

I mean never,

talk on your cell phone

while on the can.

--You will be busted out

by one of your sisters

with explosive bowl syndrome—

I learned the significance

of PBR in a can, also

that same PBR

on an empty stomach

is money well spent.

Most importantly,

I remembered that words are best shared

with other people. 

Poetry Reading

First poetry reading

in a couple of decades.

I laughed.

I cried.

I sat in awe.

That night I learned:

Georgia Peaches

are FREAKY!

Kansans punch

two year olds,

in the face,

for crying.

During intermission

while smoking a cigar,

playing cool and aloof (who am I kidding?)

I listened to conversations.

One common thread,

among poets who

stay in the game is:

poetry kills the poet-

but what a way to go.

While waiting for the crapper

I was let in on a little known

secret,

(to men)

about women’s public restroom

etiquette.

Women,

whatever you do,

never,

I mean never,

talk on your cell phone

while on the can.

--You will be busted out

by one of your sisters

with explosive bowl syndrome—

I learned the significance

of PBR in a can, also

that same PBR

on an empty stomach

is money well spent.

Most importantly,

I remembered that words are best shared

with other people.