word harvest April 2024

word harvest April 2024…

2024.4.1 – Bath window above
2024.4.2 – Perhaps the real party starts
2024.4.3 – Old diner
2024.4.8 – The rich eat the rich
2024.4.9 – What’s the biggr miracle
2024.4.10 – When it’s not the sirens
2024.4.15 – Who and what do I worship?
2024.4.17 – Sun up sky
2024.4.19 – Slow walking edge
2024.4.25 – Sitting in hot water
2024.4.29 – Freight train chugging down valley
2024.4.30 – Simple Simon Sez

~ ~ ~

Bath window above
all high wind rush and siren
no rooster, no train

yet there’s always rooster
always train

water hot
mind spirit soul not
used up much recovering
from tumor they cut

turn on radio
hide siren high wind sound
go to Zen when

sit up
mouthful of cold water
close eyes
sip slide small slips slow down throat
one high fine at a time
lay back

radio hides mind
quiets body window noise
listen to C. Prophet sing
“What Makes The Monkey Dance?”


~ ~ ~

Perhaps the real party starts
on the other side
free of flesh

~ ~ ~

Old diner
grease & gravy

~ ~ ~

The rich eat the rich
devour the poor
still itch

~ ~ ~

What’s the bigger miracle
yesterday’s total solar eclipse
or that Cleveland’s skies were clear?

~ ~ ~

When it’s not the sirens
it’s the freight train
when it’s not the freight train
it’s the rooster
when it’s not the rooster
it’s the windwater rush of wheel
when it’s not the wheels
it’s the sirens

~ ~ ~

Who and what do I worship?

don’t know no who high enough
from my lowness to glance upwards at

(I’m usually too high for humans anyway)

and I don’t worship animals birds insects fish
though do treasure respect admire

I’m close to worshipping plants
green leaves lilacs tall grasses

I do worship the trees
which may be earth’s highest lifeform
rich and wise in time and sharing

(we’re earth lieforms)

of course I totally worship the sun
from my small shadow

and last week in full total eclipse
I looked at the sun with uncovered eyes
for four minutes
as Sky Eye stared back at me

and I looked good

even piss sparkles in the sun

~ ~ ~

Sun up sky
man down dirt
Heaven vs Earth

The wind blows where it blows
knows what it knows
goes when it goes
in spite of my guesses
of yes’es and no’s

I drink my coffee
watch the moon eat the sun
we are one

~ ~ ~

Slow walking edge
abyss below
void within

~ ~ ~

Sitting in hot water
sweating salt water

Sipping cold water
sweating more

Less of me to rue

~ ~ ~

Freight train chugging down valley
hauling my old sins away
making room for new

~ ~ ~

Simple Simon Sez

It’s your world
I’m more flotsam or jetsam
not cargo
not passenger
couldn’t pay passage
no where no way no why

Yet here I am
part stowaway mostly fool
dancing your sins
your money bins adding empty to empty
pretending they’re full
printing what you don’t have
to buy what you can’t use

Shiny tomorrow dead yesterday
you know
sow reap rip sew

Been lotta sowing heading for reaping
big heap of ripping

Mess larger math smaller

I choose to move in moments
sit in sun
walk dog
pet cat
hug wife
toke home grown
you know
lightening my corner of are

We’re meant to mend
watch trends but not follow
avoid the fallow the shallow the hollow

So I mine the mundane
like our white picket fence
ending in dead-end street

It’s precarious
the good
the bad
the living
the dead
the taken and the left behind

Best to sit a bit between the troubles
soak in sun and silence

~ ~ ~

1st 3 poems (1964) illustrated by A.I & me

Asked ChatGPT / Dall-E to illustrate my first 3 poems, my total output for 1964. I was 18.


I saw a purple purfled cloud
A softly go flinning by
It skipped and jumped and fruddlehumped
Across the mauvian sky

Then I saw two bluish banobs
Making flurvy beneath the tree
They skipped and jumped and fruddlehumped
Into the Jungian sea

Next I saw a whimpering wall
Switch to a strumpbelly strict
Then skip and jump and fruddlehump
Man I sobered up quick

Slowly I put down my bottle
Never to drink anymore
Then skipped and jumped and fruddlehumped
Right through the tavern door


It hurts to be a teddy bear
To sit alone, unused
No longer wanted anywhere
Just left alone, confused

I’m tossed aside to lie in here
This dank and musty chest
The dampness serves to hide my tear
The dark to mock my past

Not always thus, this has been no
I was her fair haired toy
She loved me once, I pleased her so
I shone, her chosen joy

Yet here I lie in darkest net
Her love for me did end
My love for her she deemed forget
She found a stranger friend

And now the stranger she does mold
And twists him through the air
While in this chest my heart grows cold
Alone and frightened, bare

Confessions of a Conservative

Let others munch spare frogs legs and things
Or their mother’s tidbits so fine.

Not me.
I prefer wee bumblebee wings
With a pipe of blueberry wine.

I’ve no desire for porcupine stew
Aunts coated in chocolate yea thick
Fried crocodile
Ala flayed caribou
Or some other chef’s table trick.

A simple table whenever I dine.
Not mine all these modern cuisines.
I’m quite satisfied with blueberry wine
And old fashioned bumblebee wings.

Word harvest March 2024

-Word harvest March 2024

2024.3.3 – Deep low slow pull
2024.3.4 – Sun’s up
2024.3.6 – I sit in silence that is not silence
2024.3.13 – Life’s simple
2024.3.14 – Ahhh yes
2024.3.15 – Life’s funny
2024.3.23 – Remove my ears
2024.3.25 – In bath sweating
2024.3.26 – I’m slow

~ ~ ~

Deep low slow pull
big weight freight train moan
always going never coming

I am Sisyphus
I am rock
I am hill

(aren’t we all?)

I live on the corner
of Random Ave and Marginal Drive
just off Lost Nation Road

(fog in fugue of chance and choice)

I’m no Johnny Red-Toes
dipping his boots
in others’ blood

(backup beep of Reality repairing itself)

I keep my needs simple
a sip of water
a sit in the sun

Out there
persistant rooster tries to raise sun
under constant Cleveland cloud

~ ~ ~

Sun’s up
rooster keeps crowing
so much for cause and effect

~ ~ ~

I sit in silence that is not silence
there’s a wavering hiss of tire on concrete
the far siren singing
clock ticks
unknown people in unknown places
murmuring unknown words in unknown song
baby dinosaur chirps from tree
unseen dog barks territory
more cars hiss wind and water
squirrel chitters
wind chimes
rooster crows for sun every eleven seconds
when it’s been up for hours
in rhythmic return of almost nothing

unsilent dance
moves here
moves there
a veil over its fate

I listen

~ ~ ~

Life’s simple
you sow
you reap
you rip
you sew

I listen a lot lately
listen to the windchimes
but also to the wind
listen to kitten cry existential angst
yet power purr in my lap
listen to night
to light
to elephant trumpet and angry cat
in Zoo down hill
to wind water rush of rubber rolling road
and fainter hiss of hit and miss
to rooster constantly crowing sun
every few seconds all day long
to wife
(“happy wife, happy life”)
to shadow cat jumping from mantle to join me
in graceful silence
me grateful she wants to
to Good Smith inside see where he’s going
to Evil Smith as well just in case
to me listening to you listening
to spring birds peeping
sirens singing
freight trains moaning
coyotes howling
hoot owls hooting
in this Great Hearing of the Body Electric

and so I sow
rinse again repeat
and try not to bleed in the street

~ ~ ~

Ahhh yes
clumps of complications behind me
all kinds of troubles lurking ahead
but right here
right now
hot black unsweetened coffee
steaming in a white Twin Peaks diner cup
life is sweet in its bitterness
there’s hope having stumbled this far
we can fake it to the finish
after we finish

~ ~ ~

Life’s funny
and then you die
a punchline

go for laughs
or gasps?

~ ~ ~

Remove my ears
take out my teeth
lay these old bones down
piece by piece

~ ~ ~

In bath sweating
cat in window above
beyond cat lies two ever-presents —

rooster crowing sun
freight train pulling moan

I am rooster
I am train
I am rising sun
I am undelivered load

between rooster and train
the low constant white noise
of windwater leaves and tires fleeing

I am wind
I am water
I am leaves
I am rubber

I do not flee

~ ~ ~

I’m slow
but I’m stupid
so I make up for it

~ ~ ~

been writing poetry 60 years

I have been writing poetry for 60 years.

Here is my oldest remaining from 1964. I was 18, in the Navy, at prep school for the Naval Academy, my English teacher asked me to write a poem for the base newspaper.


I saw a purple purfled cloud
A softly go flinning by
It skipped and jumped and fruddlehumped
Across the mauvian sky

Then I saw two bluish banobs
Making flurvy beneath the tree
They skipped and jumped and fruddlehumped
Into the Jungian sea

Next I saw a whimpering wall
Switch to a strumpbelly strict
Then skip and jump and fruddlehump
Man I sobered up quick

Slowly I put down my bottle
Never to drink anymore
Then skipped and jumped and fruddlehumped
Right through the tavern door

Smith poems written February 2024

Smith poems written in February, decent output since Iwas recovering from major surgery.

2024.2.1 – Down on one knee
2024.2.3 – Winter sun warm through window
2024.2.9 – Notes During 9 Days Hospital After Being Gutted
2024.2.10 – Man I’m zinging
2024.2.15 – Oh Great Guru on mountain top
2024.2.18 – Riding off into the sunset
2024.2.19 – We live before we think
2024.2.20 – From water
2024.2.21 – I stare long into my black coffee
2024.2.22 – Almost dusk
2024.2.23 – Some days you could use a little extra edge
2024.2.25 – A light here
2024.2.26 – Large old rescue dog at my feet
2024.2.29 – Lotta rooster

~ ~ ~

Down on one knee
trusting in technology
trying to get home

~ ~ ~

Winter sun warm through window
paints my leg in light leaf and shadow
dancing up old man’s thigh

Sun on skin
skin on bone
nought between

Much of me on hospital floor
in back alley bin
night soil

Yet day dawns
in pain

My breath remains
one more awake gained
death gamed

In I.C.U.
after tube pulled from throat
and pain pump attached

I kept pushing Dilaudid
which’d always worked
but not now

Saw Charon’s Crossing
boat looked nice
water forgetful

But no

Large Enso circle
formed in air
looked wherever I looked

Then, inside circle
Keith Richard’s face fades in in b&w
congratulates me into the Survivor’s Club

And dissolves
leaving pain
and smile

~ ~ ~

Notes During 9 Days Hospital After Being Gutted

Quick couple clicks of Dilaudid
Elvis’ favorite drug
not doing much

Death is a cautious creature
prefers unlocking doors

Circular face appeared on suppy cabinet
b&w 3/4’s Keith Richards
welcoming me to Survivors Club
followed by tinny wail of David Bowie’s Fame
and Leonard Cohen’s Fingerprints
maybe the Dilaudid’s working after all

Shadows from unknown angles
showing strange numbers without reason

Been hearing wife’s voice
explaining our situation out in the hall
but she’s home
not here
maybe I’m hearing her prayers

Ride the pain train for the famous
fame for the rest

Must be considered
I’m seeing what’s considered differently

Six days since solids
five days clear liquids
first sip black caffeine and chicken broth
pure ecstacy

If I don’t piss
they put catheter back in
don’t poop, don’t go home

Wife 27 years younger
stealing time from stressed work line
to be with me in hospital
in case I die

Writing poem notes
sets off alarm from taped oxygen measurer
poetry is dangerous

4:20 a.m.
hit the Dilaudid button
Elvis would be proud

Keith Richards’ blessing appearance
wife’s phantom prayers in hall
keep the current going

Some suffering is spent
crawling to the future
pain price to come

It’s a downhill slope
mind gets wiser, body weaker
the cost of continuing

5th day after gutting me
imbibing caffeine and Dilaudid
rare Cleveland sunshine

Pain grows
blossoms into brilliance
backstabs my own

In hospital room
shivering with cold
wife gives me sweater off her back

Buy now!
Get one free!
Guarranteed money back!
late night TV

Gotta tell you
weary, hurt, and worry
not best place to be

How long o body
can spirit hold on
and still be worth it

Have to live long enough
to see Trump the Feces
finally flushed

Crashing into body pain
climbing out and writing
Smith is disaster artist

There’s always small print
trying to balance my pain meds
with pooping

Swollen scrotum
not enough room between thighs
and size

Black coffee from top
suppository up bottom
jumpstart my machine

Wife calls
asks how I am
I weep

Nurse comes in
asks if she can look at my scrotum
tell her she’s the first to ever ask that
we laugh
tell her there’s an old country swing song
Big Balls In Cow Town
she says I know the most interesting things

Glad I’m taking notes
all this is what the mind wipes
so flesh can continue

They once called me stoneface
today talking luck in wife and life
I weep four times

Overhear my roommate on phone
old thin small black man
“This is a big one Luke
they got me this time”

Hour before dawn
and next hospital pain pill
trying to find my way

Stuck in hospital
till I feces flush
so I do my doo-doo duty

Bio me
bio you
biome we

I shit my pants
doc says go home
I weep

Last day turns on me
cable TV quits
food turns bad
comes late

Gotta grim and grit it
as I leak my lizard

“This somber season has its solicitudes”
wife says, sipping hot coffee

Pull battered flesh
from bind of bed
into damn of day

It gets basic down at the lifeline
no baby Buddha bouncing in a box

I’m half human
not the good half
just the pain

Doctor says she put her hand in my chest
and my heart beat against it

Each pain’s passing
shows hundreds lurking below

Gut cut from pubis to sternum
50 staples holding belly together
pure will fighting high pain
but soon now will be then

I have to dance on the leaves
sing with the shadows

~ ~ ~

Man I’m zinging
too much CAFFEINE stomping my lizard
plus wig’s tightened considerably
considering tokes taken gummies infused
zing zanging my Zig Zagging
tanking yet more coffee
riding the red line

remembering back
wife and I picked coffee in Mexico
on steep side of mountain
above the clouds
river sounds somewhere below
lizards fucking on stump
pineapples growing from ground
vanilla vines hugging coffee tree trunk
like the snake sniffing Eve
so tired at end of day
I almost fell off mountain climbing back to bed

on busride home stop
stood on a boulder bulging from the mountain
and pissed on the white clouds below

they say function sum junction
for max consumption
or somethin’
at least that’s my assumption

but wife and I’ve met angels more than once
seen some slime
have new angles on meat and mind

~ ~ ~

Oh Great Guru on mountain top
what say you to us lower lot?

Nothing is always
and always is always nothing soon

In sun and shadow, rough and smooth
whatever your angle, you snooze you lose

~ ~ ~

Riding off into the sunset
82 mph
one hand on the wheel
low on gas
no destination
just enough time to get there

~ ~ ~

We live before we think
run upstream, foul the water
dash down, drink

~ ~ ~

From water
to land
to atoms
to ashes
we went from pointy sticks
to nuclear frission
awfully fast
for folk who understand neither value
nor mission

Error Error willful one
404 logic not found
go to 420

~ ~ ~

I stare long into my black coffee
it stares deep into me
it goes to sleep

~ ~ ~

Almost dusk
rooster still crowing sun up
clouds 1, chicken 0

Okay flux, here we go
into the body of the body beast

Rooster cries “rise”
chainsaw growls “die”
both wolves feed

Why does day run on so
why isn’t sleeping time longer?

Underwear is put away
some hanging things are hung
my work here is done

~ ~ ~

Some days you could use a little extra edge
like another year of sleep
or an endless cup of big black coffee
with a sticky cinnamon bun
on a quiet street in Amsterdam
back before the plague
before the dead mom and the new live wife
who’se likely saved my life at least twice
so far physically
more literally
the why and how of how I’m still here
who the flux knows
but she’s part of it
plus me being old bird tough
and of course luck
always luck
lots and lots of luck
and maybe just maybe me making the gods laugh
often, deep, long, and loud
for which I’m grateful
and, as always
a fool in fuel of frisson

~ ~ ~

A light here
a light there
a lot of dark between

~ ~ ~

Large old rescue dog at my feet
wish I could be as content
or prance in such joy at walk time
not sure which of us is creakier
has worse arthritis
our main differences are
kids love to see him
and I don’t shit in the street

~ ~ ~

Lotta rooster
little sun
life in Cleveland

~ ~ ~

Januwary’s children

5 poems this January, probably because 9 days were spent in the hospital getting gutted and the rest recovering… they removed a football-sized fleshpod that included my left kidney and assorted bits and dribbles along with the rare aggressive hungry tumor that actually grew an inch the 5 weeks it was being radiated.

Did write 29 pages in my pocket pad notebook in hospital while writhing in drugs and pain, but haven’t looked at them yet. There’s got to be something good in there.

At one moment in ICU, Keith Richard’s face appeared in b&w and welcomed me to the survivors’ club.

~ ~ ~

2024.1.1 – Five deer down at the ATM
2024.1.2 – Gotta be sedated
2024.1.20 – Looking down at my lst pain pill
2024.1.27 – Depleted Uranium
2024.1.31 – Slowly I turn

~ ~ ~

Five deer down at the ATM
on pre-dawn dogwalk
guess they wanted a buck

~ ~ ~

Gotta be sedated
8 or – or – or more
gonna stay don’t wanna go

Life’s my meat
I’m its whore
waiting payday

~ ~ ~

Looking down at my last pain pill
from a high heap of hurt
win lose draw

~ ~ ~

Depleted Uranium
has more oomph
than I

~ ~ ~

Slowly I turn
creaking towards human
pain by gain by pain

~ ~ ~

You’d Think You’d Know

You’d Think You’d Know

You’d think you’d know you’d broken your arm.

I’ve had a bad 13 months. Started last winter walking dog in pre-dawn MetroPark. On the dark seldom used southern trail I stepped on black ice and went down faster than brain could follow — there was up, there was hard down, there was no inbetween.

Lying on the ice, my first thought was it’s freezing, if I don’t get up I die… but, can I get up? Am I broken? Of course I didn’t have my phone with me in case I needed help. So slow-mo pain by pain I get up, somehow functional, and creep back to light.

Weeks later in backyard I step on black ice again and wham my am fast flat. Slow creak up again, unsure I’m not damaged, take 1 step, go down again harder, slamming other side into frozen ground. This time pain’s so great I get nauseous, breakout in cold sweat.

Hobble inside, sit in chair, Lady says, “You Alright?” “I donno.” Check myself out pain by pain and it all seems to work.

Few weeks later I’m filling a five gallon bucket to water my illegal pot plants. I forget I’m 77 and not the SuperSmith I was, so lifting it out of the sink I hear a SNAP and hot pain sears my bicep.

Emergency Room doctor says no problem, I’ll be okay in 6 weeks.

5 weeks later I’m walking a 136 pound Golden Labrador (who weighs as much as I do at this point) who sees a neighbor’s illegal loose dog and charges sideways after it, wrenching my damaged arm.

I assume the intense pain is my torn bicep reinjury.

5 weeks later dog does it again, same loose dog, same damaged arm. Either the first dog charge or the second or both broke my arm.

I again assume dog reinjured my torn muscle, and my broken arm heals sideways, 90 degrees off, my bicep going horizontal instead of vertical.

For the next 5 months I have no use of left arm. I can’t do chores, can’t shovel snow.

Oh yes, in-between the torn muscle and the bone break, I contracted E Coli poisoning which went septic. 73% of the septic die. Doctor said I was very close. Lady saved me, said I wasn’t lucid when they took me in. And just to grind me down, during sepsis I was also dehydrated and anemic. Enough already.

One night there’s a knock on our door and I open it to a tall thin 65 year old black man with hedge clippers. He offers to do our yard work for a few bucks. I say sorry man but it’s dark now, too late today, but hold on I’ve been where you are and give him $10 and say come back when it’s light.

He said months later he was really angry when he knocked and my kindness touched him.

You know, he might have been an angel.

He came back next day and Lady had him do a couple hours work for $20 an hour.

Then he came back 2 days later and Lady says listen, you’ll come every Thursday, work 2 hours for $50.

I can’t do anything with one arm, so he’s a blessing. Been going on 13 months, every week.

Strange dude though, won’t talk about himself, just questions us, laughs a lot at my checkered past and cynical present. It becomes a ritual, he arrives around 10, I make us bad coffee, we drink it together, sort of talk as he avoids my questions, works for 90 minutes, Lady gives us all a hot lunch, we give him the money, and he leaves.

This goes on for months, then I seriously break my arm again. This time we’ve taken the dog to a dogwash, he poops on the floor, I scurry down 2 steps to get a poo bag, the non-slip rubber tip of my right running shoe mates with the non-trip rubber grip of the second step as I’m hurridly turning and I fly full force sideways into a display case and wall, me breaking the display case, the wall breaking me, lacerating my kidney.

Massive pain. Truly impressive. For the second time I’ve nausea and coverd in cold sweat.

Emergency Room shoots me up with one pain killer which doesn’t work, then another shot which doesn’t do it, until finally they hit me with Fentanyl which does the trick.

Doctors Catscan me, tell me arm was recently broken and healed wrong, then cut me open and put the bone back together by screwing 2 metal plates on.

Then they say by the way the Catscan shows a lump on your lung, we need to scan it. They scan the lump and say no problem BUT what is this thing peeping up behind your left kidney where nothing’s supposed to be.

Of course it was a big mother of a rare and aggressive sarcoma cancer.

Death snaeks in your mind
looks around
rearranges the furniture

First thought was I wasn’t going to be around to watch our kitten fearless Frankie grow up. He’s had so much affection that he expects love and acceptance as his due. I wanted to see what he’d grow into with nothing but love from us. The big thought I couldn’t think was Lady, losing us, her alone – some things are not thinkable.

Anyway we’re almost done here, or as life says, “Ha!”

They gave me 5 weeks radiation, then they went in and took out the tumor and anything it touched, which included my left kidney, some colon, a few unknown nerves, fat, muscle.

Here’s a link to a photo of what they removed. The man holding it is tall and has large hands. What he’s holding looks like a deformed flesh football from a David Cronenberg movie, or a large fleshpod Yeti heart. Have to warn you, it’s creepy, but in a cheap 1950’s sci-fi film sort of way.

See THE BLOB!!! I’ve named it Evil Smith, Evil Smith has been removed, so only Nice Smith remains. Look at photo at your own risk.

Evil Smith has been removed (i.e., abdominal cancer tumor)

So, 11 hour operation, 9 days hospital, so far 19 days home basically holding on trying to outwait the pains and weakness.

And yet this is good, I’m lucky. Had I not rebroken my arm, they’d not have accidentally discovered the tumor, and I’d be heading for the off ramp. Bad is good sometimes.

Back to our weekly 2-hour helper, Cornell. Can’t remember what he said as we were drinking our coffee, but it was something about my cancer that he could not know, and as soon as he said it, I instantly pinged “magic” and looked at him, thinking he knows stuff not yet said, might be one of those angels Lady and I’ve had help us past 18 years. Tried to trip him up again but no go. Kept watching him after that though. Strangely, he worked for Lady the 2 Thursdays I was in the hospital, then told her on my release day that he’d be gone for awhile, had to go to rehab for alcohol. He’s like the Lone Ranger, appears when needed, then rides off into the sunset before you can thank him. If he comes back, we’ll have something to talk about because alcohol was the hardest drug I ever beat, I bled to death from alcohol 32 years ago, came to in ICU, walked home 3 days later, haven’t had a drink since. Of course I did shoot a lot of cocaine and crystal speed and had a 6-month Nyquil habit, but all except cannabis, caffeine , and the ocassional mushroom ceased in 1999.

At the peak of my drinking (5+ gallons of cheap white wine a week) back in April 1991, I had ballooned to 275 pounds, looked like a fat gerbil who stuffed 30 pound of nuts into its cheeks. Sweated a lot. Finally settled to a comfortable 175 after going sober, but two years ago the cancer came and I’m down to 119. Look like a concentration camp survivor. Trying to gain weight but the tumor grew so big it pushed half my stomach into my chest, so when I eat, my chest stomach fills up quickly and jumps into acid reflux mode. I kid you not, we’ve got a clusterflux going here. I have some insane script writer going waaay overboard with my arc. Haven’t even mentioned my bad arthritis which hurts top to toe 24/7, and my scoliosis bent spine which curves around and out my skinbone frame to meet every chairback to be tortured. And of course causes massive pain at the base of the spine all the time. I mean come on, who writes this kind of story? Of course as far as “Why Me” goes, have to admit my past life has been less than exemplary, so I may have earned this Hell.

Best of all is my wife, Lady. She is another angel — no, not another, she is my love angel, my caring angel, my kind angel, my friend / partner / collaborator / favorite human angel. I’m alive because of her, she’s saved my life at least 3 times now, and this current rather excessive symphony of pain is worth it to be here with her. She is my magic.

This story reminds me of film director Luis Bunuel’s 1933 documentary Land Without Bread about a Spanish people surrounded by mountains who are so poor they have no bread. At one point the monotonous narrator who is piling one dread after another into an endless mass says in the winter the ground was so frozen they stacked the dead for spring burial. After awhile, so much narrated misery morphs in my head into a dry, droll Monty Python skit of horror heaped upon horror.

Laugh if you will. I do.

Wrote this today coming home.

Dead Man’s Curve
someday I’ll ride it honestly
right now I drive alive