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A Body in the Morgue
Working the front desk
at the nursing home —
a part time gig
helping to buy the eggs
since this past September.
I like the title:
Receptionist.
But things are a bit askew
this weekend.
There’s a body in the mourge.
I didn’t expect it to hit me
so hard.
I guess the first time for any
or everything
is always remarkable.
Did I explain?
There’s a body in the mourge.
-
Enlightenment
Driving with no brakes.
But let’s take a step back
and share that once it was
proposed driving
with no licence
was the path.
Wrong.
Did that, done that.
Across the county and back.
26 states in total I think,
sleeping in a tent
out the back end
of a dodge pickup truck.
At the end of those 5 weeks…
(I repeated the attempt
the following year just
to make sure I wasn’t
missing something)
…nothing but overtired
with a bad case of saddle burn.
So back to the point.
Driving with no brakes.
Stupid. Yes.
Scary. Yes.
Exquisite. Yes.
Especially when you live
in the mountains.
The direct route is often
untenable
as you can’t traverse
downhills that continue
much more than a quarter mile,
so a trip to the store for eggs
might require a path
that triples your distance.
What one discovers
is there really are
different ways
to navigate this world.
Sure, go directly from point
A to B.
Or, drive to the corner
and flip a coin.
Heads turn right.
Tails turn left.
Continue that process
Until you reach your
destination.
Who needs brakes anyways?
-
Mezzo Mezzo
It one thing to be a centrist
and quite another
to find yourself
in the middle of the middle
where all guns point your way
even though they
are aimed at the other side.
-
Well, We’re Waiting
An American Sentence
Anytime now, though we’ve lost all confidence you’re paying attention.
-
Little Things
In the deepest dark
of night, who am I
to complain
if the only comfort
a blanket,
adjusted so,
to keep the shivering
at bay.
-
Don’t Forget Your Blinders
It’s some sage advice
found in the Medusa story,
but elsewhere for sure.
Never look into the eyes
of the godhead, unless invited.
Even then, beware.
-
Long Shadows at Winter’s End
It warmed enough for water
to liquify again and
drip from the eaves,
even if a down vest and boots
still the smart way to tromp about
when taking out the trash
and retrieving the mail.
What are we spinning into
when we dive under the covers
each night only to find dreams taste
more satisfying than our daily fare?
(I’m not asking for an answer—
questions floated and forgotten
one way to leave winter behind,
like crossing the zig zag bridges
found in some Japanese gardens,
a side stepping to throw
demons off our trail.)
-
Somewhere Out There
Can a tear be heard?
Does it matter?
Yes.
Yes.
Yes.
-
Late Winter Symphony
Nothing else to say…
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The Willowemoc
An American Sentence
Recurring floods set the river’s name: the kettle that cleanses itself.