Early morning is the hour of the cat. He’s always up when I am, oh-four-thirty or so the moon high, waning gibbous today but still enough light to see with…
Leave a CommentBecause Free Range Just Tastes Better
Because Free Range Just Tastes Better
Early morning is the hour of the cat. He’s always up when I am, oh-four-thirty or so the moon high, waning gibbous today but still enough light to see with…
Leave a CommentI’ll be your personal poet You be my reader and voice No one else ever need know it We’ll offer no other the choice I’ll be your personal poet I’ll…
Leave a CommentNow will I charge you in the band of truth, as doubtful thoughts and rash-embraced despair can bide the beating of so strong a passion that wear this world out…
Leave a CommentThey never say good morning. They rarely say good night. They never ask how are you, or, is everything all right?They don’t press about your business as you press on…
Leave a CommentWhen I have fears that I shall cease to be,
I know the ugly beauty of that truth.
there is a crack. it was never there beforeit was not there yesterdayyesterday, I was wholetoday, there is a holea gap where once there was togethernessnow there are sides this…
Leave a CommentBig Sister and Onee-Sama are different. Big Sister’s eyes are brown. Warm, Bright Brown. Brown like savored chocolates. Brown like the logs in the fireplace. Brown like a wooden cottage…
Leave a CommentI’ve seen these hills before, in memories of tales and half-remembered dreams of ages gone. A snow-capped snippet of a textbook childhood, immensely tall from shouldered vantage, urging my father…
Leave a CommentBack in 1997, my wife grew tired of my bashing her country music tastes and challenged me to pen a country song myself, if I thought it was so easy. …
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