AD.

WALKING ON THIN ICE

word harvest November 2023

word harvest November 2023

2023.11.9 – Pain doesn’t stop
2023.11.10 – Duct tape
2023.11.11 – You want the truth?
2023.11.12 – Black caffeine
2023.11.14 – Concrete rubber wheels
2023.11.16 – Rich old white man heavy hand
2023.11.17 – Worry Worry
2023.11.20 – Multiple sirens out there in the night
2023.11.21 – The wind is cold
2023.11.22 – Don’t much like myself today
2023.11.27 – The wolf is at the door
2023.11.29 – Politics
2023.11.30 – Henry Killinger’s dead

~ ~ ~

Pain doesn’t stop
life continues
constant compromise

~ ~ ~

Duct tape
epoxy
kindness
and marijuana —
that’s my church

~ ~ ~

You want the truth?
the truth is there ain’t no truth
and that’s the truth

~ ~ ~

Black caffeine
sex and gasoline
pedal to the bleed

~ ~ ~

Concrete rubber wheels
fast talk shady deals
sunshine and shadow

~ ~ ~

Rich old white man heavy hand
bloody runs the land

Greed’s graft sets trap
of life of rat

O sacred pipe this naked night
lay on me some light

Must no this lack of glow
brighten better sight

~ ~ ~

Worry Worry
step right up
free wearies for all
big and small
unless you’re rich
and old
and white
with small hands small feet no heart
greedy parts
moral fart
lying false stats for false starts

As a Profit I prophetize
there is little sense in dollars

~ ~ ~

Multiple sirens out there in the night
two clocks ticking here in the dark

Used to think sirens bad news
but been there recently
and they can be good
never know when a broken bone
might save your life

The two clocks ticking however
eat at us all
every day
all the time

As they should

If life were easy
there’d be no evolution
may as well take this misery
and milk it for all its mirth

What did the dead cow say?
Moot

~ ~ ~

The wind is cold
the day gray
the sky wet
yet
the fireplace is warm
the wife wonderful
the two cats and one dog
comforting
it’s a good life

~ ~ ~

Don’t much like myself today
which makes it really hard
for the not-mes to

~ ~ ~

The wolf is at the door
filling up on breaths
we hide our heads in sheep

~ ~ ~

Politics
monkey see
monkey doo doo

~ ~ ~

Henry Killinger’s dead
may all he’s helped kill
greet him properly

~ ~ ~

ChatGPT / Smith / Lady / Dall-E art collab

Had an idea for a painting 40-50 years ago I never executed because I have zero drawing and painting skills, so I wrote a description and gave it to Lady to input into her ChatGPT/Dall-E app.

I forgot to specify Bible was to be horizontal, so we were off from the beginning. And Dall-E said it couldn’t do the artists due to copyright issues but could do a surreal, etc. Then after 4 tries it decided it didn’t like the blood, then decided it didn’t like me using the Bible.

So here’s the 2 best attempts, neither successful, but do have their interests.

instructions to ChatGPT:
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Inside the living room of an old farm house.

Main focus is the window, with upper and lower windows each divided into 2 verticle half window panes.

The window has white curtains hanging open.

In front of the window against the sill is a small end table.

Floating 9″ above the table is a bible, black covers, page edges facing the viewer, bible tilted just enough you can sort of see “BIBLE” on cover.

The shadows from the light coming thru the window form a cross on the table, with the verticle shadow the trunk of the cross, and the top frame of the bottom window shadow forming the cross brace.

The bible is oozing blood from its closed pages, the blood pooling on the table.

Want with 4 options…

1) with no artist to copy
2) as by Edward Hopper
3) as by Salvidor Dali
4) as by Andrew Wyeth


Art collab twixt Lady, T.S. Eliot, & Dall-E 11.24.2023

Art collaboration between Lady, T.S. Eliot, and the A.I. graphic generator Dall-E 11.24.2023

This has been my favorite Eliot poem for over 50 years.

~ ~ ~

The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock
by T.S. Eliot, 1915

S’io credesse che mia risposta fosse
A persona che mai tornasse al mondo,
Questa fiamma staria senza piu scosse.
Ma percioche giammai di questo fondo
Non torno vivo alcun, s’i’odo il vero,
Senza tema d’infamia ti rispondo.

Let us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a patient etherized upon a table;
Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,
The muttering retreats
Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels
And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:
Streets that follow like a tedious argument
Of insidious intent
To lead you to an overwhelming question …
Oh, do not ask, “What is it?”
Let us go and make our visit.

In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.

The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes,
The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes,
Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening,
Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains,
Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys,
Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap,
And seeing that it was a soft October night,
Curled once about the house, and fell asleep.

And indeed there will be time
For the yellow smoke that slides along the street,
Rubbing its back upon the window-panes;
There will be time, there will be time
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;
There will be time to murder and create,
And time for all the works and days of hands
That lift and drop a question on your plate;
Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
And for a hundred visions and revisions,
Before the taking of a toast and tea.

In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.

And indeed there will be time
To wonder, “Do I dare?” and, “Do I dare?”
Time to turn back and descend the stair,
With a bald spot in the middle of my hair —
(They will say: “How his hair is growing thin!”)
My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin,
My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin —
(They will say: “But how his arms and legs are thin!”)
Do I dare
Disturb the universe?
In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.

For I have known them all already, known them all:
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;
I know the voices dying with a dying fall
Beneath the music from a farther room.
So how should I presume?

And I have known the eyes already, known them all—
The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase,
And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin,
When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall,
Then how should I begin
To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways?
And how should I presume?

And I have known the arms already, known them all—
Arms that are braceleted and white and bare
(But in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair!)
Is it perfume from a dress
That makes me so digress?
Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl.
And should I then presume?
And how should I begin?

Shall I say, I have gone at dusk through narrow streets
And watched the smoke that rises from the pipes
Of lonely men in shirt-sleeves, leaning out of windows? …

I should have been a pair of ragged claws
Scuttling across the floors of silent seas.

And the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so peacefully!
Smoothed by long fingers,
Asleep … tired … or it malingers,
Stretched on the floor, here beside you and me.
Should I, after tea and cakes and ices,
Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis?
But though I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed,
Though I have seen my head (grown slightly bald) brought in upon a platter,
I am no prophet — and here’s no great matter;
I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,
And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker,
And in short, I was afraid.

And would it have been worth it, after all,
After the cups, the marmalade, the tea,
Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me,
Would it have been worth while,
To have bitten off the matter with a smile,
To have squeezed the universe into a ball
To roll it towards some overwhelming question,
To say: “I am Lazarus, come from the dead,
Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all”—
If one, settling a pillow by her head
Should say: “That is not what I meant at all;
That is not it, at all.”

And would it have been worth it, after all,
Would it have been worth while,
After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets,
After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the floor—
And this, and so much more?—
It is impossible to say just what I mean!
But as if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns on a screen:
Would it have been worth while
If one, settling a pillow or throwing off a shawl,
And turning toward the window, should say:
“That is not it at all,
That is not what I meant, at all.”

No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;
Am an attendant lord, one that will do
To swell a progress, start a scene or two,
Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool,
Deferential, glad to be of use,
Politic, cautious, and meticulous;
Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse;
At times, indeed, almost ridiculous—
Almost, at times, the Fool.

I grow old … I grow old …
I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.

Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.

I do not think that they will sing to me.

I have seen them riding seaward on the waves
Combing the white hair of the waves blown back
When the wind blows the water white and black.
We have lingered in the chambers of the sea
By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown
Till human voices wake us, and we drown.

Source = Collected Poems 1909-1962

thnxgvn shuffle

excellent Thnxgvn morn soak shuffle…

I’ll Turn My Radio On – Walela
Green Onions – Booker T and The MGs
Fast Car – Tracy Chapman
I Had Too Much To Dream Last Night – The Electric Prunes
Same Devil – Brandy Clark w/ Brandi Carlile
Be Bop A Lula – Gene Vincent
In The Summertime – Mungo Jerry
Friction – Television
Psycho Killer – Talking Heads
Like Ceasar Needs A Brutus – Anita Lane
Otherside Of The Bottle – Samantha Fish
It’s The Music – Meat Beat Manifesto

8 Medusa years

This month’s online feature in Medusa’s Kitchen (published / edited by Kathy Kieth) marks 8 years of 9 poems 10 fotos monthly.

So, here are 823 poems, 895 fotos, 34 songs.

[cut & paste if curious]
http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2015/12/just-different-crazy.html – 1
http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2015/12/creation-mist.html – 1b
http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2016/01/twixt-ape-and-angel.html – 2
http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2016/02/poems-from-six-decades.html – 3
http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2016/03/status-report.html – 4
http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2016/04/food-in-food-out.html – 5
http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2016/05/dung-or-diamond.html – 6
http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2016/06/truth-du-jour.html – 7
http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2016/07/a-past-thats-worth-hiding.html – 8
http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2016/08/doing-it-for-love.html – 9
http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2016/09/this-garden-uneven.html – 10
http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2016/10/those-ghosts-in-between.html – 11
http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2016/11/bring-back-snake.html – 12
http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2016/12/our-lonely-orbitsong.html – 13a
http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2016/12/news-from-great-gauze.html – 13
http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2017/01/upereeking.html – 14
http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2017/02/right-left-of-wrong.html – 15
http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2017/03/up-as-in-barking.html – 16
http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2017/04/lady-k.html – 17
http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2017/05/temple-of-hope.html – 18
http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2017/06/they-call-me-bone.html – 19
http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2017/07/hes-alive.html – 20
http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2017/08/fair-is-fair.html – 21
http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2017/09/incest-in-sky.html – 22
https://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2017/10/blues-in-my-pockets.html – 23
http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2017/11/my-voice-raised-in-bell-chime.html – 24
https://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2017/12/just-cuz-mirrors-moments.html – 25
http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2018/01/raining-cats-gods.html – 26
https://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2018/02/gung-hay-fat-choy.html – 27
http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2018/03/in-beginnings.html – 28
http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2018/04/entropys-rain.html – 29
http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2018/05/flight-plans.html – 30
http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2018/06/ghosts-of-thyme.html – 31
http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2018/07/wolf-parts-poems-and-visuals-by-smith.html – 32
http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2018/08/status-report-spirit-juice.html – 33
https://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2018/09/used-ego-for-rent.html – 34
https://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2018/10/sometimes-won-sometimes-lost.html – 35
http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2018/11/the-sun-always-rises.html – 36
http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2018/12/unreined-dear.html – 37
http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2019/01/hopes-possible.html – 38
http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2019/02/be-what-it-will.html – 39
http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2019/03/becoming-one-with-one.html – 40
http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2019/04/fracking-flux.html – 41
http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2019/05/cool-and-sly.htm- 42
http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2019/06/gotta-try.html – 43
http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2019/07/doing-time.html – 44
http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2019/08/dark-questionables.html – 45
http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2019/09/sisyphus-rocks-n-rolls.html – 46
https://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2019/10/let-there-be-light-momma.html – 47
https://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2019/11/bluebird-of-happenstance.html – 48
http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2019/12/the-smiths-pay-us-visit.html – 49
http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2020/01/lifes-beach.html – 50
http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2020/02/nine-quickies.html – 51
http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2020/03/the-lies-of-monkeys.html – 52
http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2020/04/deep-in-oh-oh.html – 53
https://www.walkingthinice.com/2020/05/may-medusa/ – 54
https://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2020/06/the-trees-they-are-dancing.html – 55
http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2020/07/in-temple-of-echo.html – 56
http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2020/08/grim-and-bear-it.html – 57
http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2020/09/creeping-peepers-other-seekers.html – 58
http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2020/10/hope-hope-hope.html – 59
http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2020/11/so-it-goes.html – 60
http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2020/12/like-fairy-tales.html – 61
http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2021/01/seeking-in-sync-of-soul.html – 62
http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2021/02/stone-soup-and-new-moon.html – 63
https://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2021/03/dragons-and-unicorns.html – 64
https://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2021/04/ties-that-blind.html – 65
http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2021/05/spirit-to-bone.html – 66
http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2021/06/snake-and-bossa-nova.html – 67
http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2021/07/whats-me.html – 68
http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2021/08/precious-cargo.html – 69
http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2021/09/drawing-down.html – 70
http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2021/10/wordwork-by-smith.html – 71
http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2021/11/crashes-fast-soft-slow-hard.html – 72
http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2021/12/as-rock-rolls-on.html – 73
http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2022/01/where-does-red-brick-go.html – 74
http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2022/02/on-edge-of-thrum.html – 75
http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2022/03/accumulation-tango.html – 76
http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2022/04/this-o-so-slide.html – 77
https://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2022/05/looking-for-old-sun-new-risen.html – 78
https://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2022/06/one-sparkplug-short.html – 79
http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2022/07/caution-curves-poetry-and-visuals-by.html – 80
http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2022/08/here-in-where-and-when.html – 81
http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2022/09/be-firefly.html – 82
http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2022/10/rolling-up-those-hours.html- 83
http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2022/11/gray-days-in-cleveland.html – 84
http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2022/12/dark-dread-in-search-of-bliss.html – 85
http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2023/01/me-my-loves-and-eye.html – 86
http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2023/02/new-year-old-sins.html – 87
http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2023/03/dooidrasto.html – 88
http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2023/04/this-holy-new-day.html – 89
http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2023/05/alive-is-messy.html – 90
http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2023/06/yesterdaytomorrowtoday.html – 91
http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2023/07/that-dead-end-street.html – 92
http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2023/08/pulp.html – 93
http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2023/09/like-dandelion-seeds.html – 94
https://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2023/10/son-of-sisyphus.html – 95
https://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2023/11/more-songs-of-sisyphus.html – 96

poem for me from fellow poet person

thnx u for this, Mr. Marc Steven Mannheimer…

~ ~ ~

a chain of thought about writing brought me to Steven Smith, and from there to a helpful realization. so I wrote this one about a fine muse.

for Smith
by Marc Steven Mannheimer

observe the bent bone man
the cracked frame
the bowed vertical suspension
he might know, if anyone
the way of poetry
the way to walk around the block
to feed the bird, the bee, the knee, the dog
please the lady, be the benefactor
his ways, strange
but his being neutralizes karma
the noxious fumes we consume
achy bakey man
sizzling wisdom wonton, fortune cookie man
his time sublime, no lock-stop flock
bides the Earth on patient clock

my Medusa’s Kitchen monthly feature 11.2023

“Long-time SnakePal Smith (Steven B. Smith) is with us this morning with saddlebags full of poetry and look-sees, and we’re grateful, as always, for his perspective. (What ABOUT that butterfly? New life, or lie?) Anyway, party on, Cowboy! Maybe the best is heading down the track….” — Kathy Kieth, publisher/editor Medusa’s Kitchen

9 poems, 10 fotos

https://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2023/11/more-songs-of-sisyphus.html 

sin and saved

2 songs – one of prostitutes and destroyed lives, one a gospel prayer to God – have the identical melody

Amazing Grace – Marc Cohn & The Blind Boys Of Alabama

House Of The Rising Son – The Animals

Deconstructing Smith

Three things doctors said echo in my head:
1) “Your arm was recently broken, and healed badly.”
2) “We’ll have to take out some organs, intestine, bowel, blood vessels, muscle, fat.”
3) “Of course you have acid reflux, half your stomach’s in your chest.”

Last year forgetting my old and feeble, I lifted a 5-gallon bucket of water and heard a sharp SNAP in my bicep, followed by some serious pay-attention-to-me pain.

E.R. doctor decided my mobility looked okay and I’d heal in six weeks. Five weeks later when muscle was near better, our large dog took off after a loose dog, jerking my arm sideways. Massive pain from which I assumed was reinjured torn muscle. So another 5 weeks waiting to heal when – whammo – dog did it again. Immense pain, again assumed muscle damage. Either the first or second or both dog lunges had broken my arm.

By this time I’ve been unable to use my left arm for 3 months. I assumed the doctor had been wrong and I had torn my bicep loose, so went to family doctor. He couldn’t understand how my bicep was going horizontal instead of vertical. He sent me to a specialist.

Week before specialist, we took Marlowe (our 127 pound 11 year old Golden Lab rescue) to a dog wash, where he pooped on the floor. I scurried down 2 steps to get a poo-bag when the non-skid rubber tip of my shoe mated with the non-slip rubber grip of the step and I flew full force 6 feet into a display case, demolishing it, breaking my arm, lacerating a kidney. Pain so intense I had stomach nausea and oozed cold sweat.

Three days in E.R. and hospital. CAT-scanning my arm, they noticed a small growth on my lung. After MRI-ing it, they decided lung lump wasn’t dangerous but said hey, what’s this thing peeking up behind your kidney?

Turned out to be 10″ tall sarcoma cancer, rare, aggressive, maybe my replacement birthed by inner anger… I named it Smith 2.0.

They screwed my arm together with metal plates, so now I’ve metal in one hip, both shoulders, 2 bolts in neck, 2 plates in arm. I set off metal detectors and give glorious glowing upper body X-Rays.

Couldn’t use my left arm for a year. Got 85% of it back, which seems as much as I’m going to get.

As they plotted my cancer removal, they decided to radiate before surgery because they need to remove everything the tumor touched, which is when they casually mentioned they’d take out a kidney, spleen, etc, and had to radiate to shrink the tumor before surgery because after surgery the body couldn’t handle radiation with one kidney.

The surgery doctor said I’m dangerously underweight since I’ve lost 40 pounds past two years (down to 135 from a comfortable 175), and she wanted to bulk me up. Explained that was difficult due to my stomach acid problems and she chirped “Of course you have acid reflux, half your stomach’s in your chest.” She thinks the cancer pushed one kidney out of its way and half my stomach into my chest.

Through all this a third doctor – Dr Chemo – was drooling to give me chemo as well. Told him not likely. He asked why. Replied quality of life. He hung his head, nodded yes, then explained this is a serious sneaky aggressive tumor and could have sent offshoots anywhere in my body, and if so, only chemo can kill it. Chemotherapy is basically making your body so sick and close to dying that the weaker cancer dies first. I know people who have done it and they say dying’s better. To see if it’d spread, they shot me full of radioactive juice and gave me a PET-scan and found no runners, which totally depressed Dr Chemo who kept saying perhaps we could work some chemo in down the line.

Finished four weeks so far of five of radiation, after which they’ll wait 2 months and gut me.

The list of possible side effects of abdomenal radiation is a horror movie, too much to ponder because I’ve no options. I survived 8 weeks voice box cancer radiation 18 years ago (cancer gone) and figure I’ll beat this as well, recover from surgery, get on with my outlier life with magic wife.

In the meantime, I’m thinking of changing script writers because they’re doing me dirty.

Although, bottom line, I’m lucky – if I hadn’t broken my arm the second time in 5 months, they wouldn’t have accidentally discovered the cancer.

“Go figure” Mr V wrote in one novel, and “So it goes” in another.

I seem to be of both.

 

 

 

 

word harvest 2023 October

word harvest 2023 October

2023.10.2 – Unseen crow caw caw calls me
2023.10.9 – Hot black coffee
2023.10.10 – I’m a weed and caffeine fiend
2023.10.20 – Bad mood brings brood
2023.10.22 – Two sides same coin
2023.10.26 – Want to do the right thing?
2023.10.27 – I can’t afford his affection
2023.10.31 – I observe

~ ~ ~

Unseen crow caw caw calls me
unknown behind trees behind leaves
leaving me with leaf
song of Sisyphus
and the River Jordan’s other side
plus of course this slide
from birth
thru rest
to death
yet another fine mess
I’ve gotten me into

~ ~ ~

Hot black coffee
white cup America

They raise the price
then shrink the package

~ ~ ~

I’m a weed and caffeine fiend
I can do without
but I tend to shout

~ ~ ~

Bad mood brings brood
am I one of the gods
or simple food?

The plants on the deck
drop their flowers
in cold

I look up
five black wires crisscross blue sky
from nowhere to nowhere

Yet red canvas chair
sitting in sun
invites me to seat

Life’s a game
you gotta stay to play
(old Tik-Tok Man keeps stalking me)

~ ~ ~

Two sides same coin
obverse tale

Was keeps wooing
till done done doing

Eve’s apple unfalling
far from the tree

Her man Narcissist
unsure of we

We’re all seeking hi-rez
in low rent way

Rituals run
punishment and promise in play

~ ~ ~

Want to do the right thing?
think “What would Trump do?”
then do the opposite.

~ ~ ~

I can’t afford his affection
he’s young cat claw
I’m old man skin

~ ~ ~

I observe
digest
occasionally regurgitate

~ ~ ~