Melt My Glasses, and Send Me to My Grave

If I dared say all

about what

the mother FR’s

that are messing

with the system

are saying,

I guess? they want me

to go home.

But, they need

to consider,

and think about, simply,

I am not

going home…

Our vote is good?

But is a vote enough?

When you see shit —

Say that shit is shit.

When you see fraud —

Say that fraud is fraud.

When you see usury —

Say those banks are

committing usury.

Do you know my friend Ezra?

Have you not read the Cantos?

No worries.

They put him in a cage.

He deserved it.

Not hard to disagree

with his politics —

But I so love his voice!

Do you know my friend Charles?

He took over the problematic…

And failed.

How about Allen?

What would Allen say today?

Oh no, 🤭, really.

They are coming

after the poets.

If this were a cooking blog

Forget longevity—

this is a heart attack.

Forget fidelity—

excommunication appropriate

with meat served

on a Friday in Lent.

And then the pork taboo

for my Muslim and Jewish

friends. Well…

Love yeah brothers.

Oh, but is it good.

Render three strips of thick

cut bacon

and then mix three

eggs into the rendered fat.

Add tomatoes,

green onions,


siracya sauce,

a dash of garlic powder,

salt and pepper,

and sprinkle till

your heart’s content

with mozzarella cheese.

While Buckingham Palace

has yet to announce the contest,

I hereby submit this recipe

as the first submission—

A Fox Hunting Breakfast

for King Charles the Third’s

Coronation Breakfast Competition.

If that does not work,

I’m considering offering it

as the last meal for a few

deserving politicians

that are screwing with our world.


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:


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.


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.


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


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


Who needs brakes anyways?

Awesome Obscurities, No.3

The geographical and social strata diversity to be found in the blogosphere, especially here within the ecosystem, is amazing. What I learn on a daily basis is akin to the best university and postgraduate studies I have been fortunate to partake in.

When we consider the systems societies have created to deal with crisis, trauma, and violence, I often question: does the end justify the means? To that inquiry, I here want to share an amazing blog that has helped me wrestle not only with the reality of incarceration as it is deployed in society, but also the inner reality of incarceration that grips my soul, and, to be a bit blunt, I believe we are all wrestling with it.

The Prison Journalism Project. Follow and learn.

(Postscript: The Prison Journalism Project received a wonderful shout-out from Sarah Golding at WP Tavern not too long ago, but to little avail. It seems the vast audience that the tavern enjoys has little time for this dimension, which is a fact for all of us, whether we dismiss it or not. I am confident, and it is my hope, that those of you that find what is said here at the Café on a daily basis to be worth your time, might actually be the audience that PJP is seeking.)