Poem for Thursday – A Walk on Sunday
more childhood trauma and injury. lately i have been on a roll. A Walk on Sunday Between Crondolet and Forsyth, on Meramec, we could walk Continue reading Poem for Thursday – A Walk on Sunday
Two Wheels. One Dark Lord.
more childhood trauma and injury. lately i have been on a roll. A Walk on Sunday Between Crondolet and Forsyth, on Meramec, we could walk Continue reading Poem for Thursday – A Walk on Sunday
On a drive We roll by the spot where Randy once left his weed laughing together
The weight I awoke with at start and remember nothing about the first flight of stairs on the way to my daughters room. I met Continue reading Thursday’s Poem – The weight
This one in from fritzaholic. One Gear by One Gear Thirty Four by Seventeen. Stand, Meet your Maker.
Holiday Blues The days are now getting longer. There is something to these, the holiday blues. I don’t think it has much of anything to Continue reading Thursday’s Poem – Holiday Blues
i know that i put this up as a “prose-ish poem” a few monthes ago, but i just reworked it and now it is a Continue reading Thursday’s Poem – Butter or pie
The vast faction of North American kitsch lovers have adored its image for decades. As a young buck, I remember my folks’ nauseated reaction to Continue reading If You Thought They Looked Great in the Yard….
Brakes Belong It is frightening beyond words really what some of these people are doing these days out on the road. The equivalent in, say, Continue reading Thursday’s Poem – Brakes Belong
Camo Cans We met at one bar and then rode to another. The third stop was my front yard to shotgun beers. I bought an Continue reading Thursday’s Poem – Camo Cans
Lessons of our Childhood Remember the time the three of us played crack the whip and Greg crashed his bike so bad he had to Continue reading poem for thursday.
Randy He came at night, dinnertime His car parked down the hill along the roadway, The snow was falling diagonally behind him, the flakes lit Continue reading Thursday’s Poem – Randy
Glorious Days Abound. Getting the potato cannon out was a really good idea. We had been drinking for a couple of hours and had like Continue reading (not really) a poem for thursday.