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.
The Momentum There used to be a time in my life when the moment mattered. Now, nothing is moving. Everything is a steady motionlessness. More Continue reading poem for thursday…hey, i was busy.
The deal I thought I’ll show them I as failed every class my last semester save the two I actually needed to graduate. In them Continue reading Thursday’s Poem – The deal
here are a couple haikus 1. the whistle tips go whoo-whooooo, thats it and thats all. you need whistle tips. 2. the famous big jon, Continue reading poem for thursday
God Bless Her My wife was speaking to her mother on the telephone asking about ideas for my Christmas present. And my mother-in-law down in Continue reading Thursday’s Poem – God Bless Her
Seventeen years later It was J.C.’s dark blue Gary Fisher AL-1 that I rode first around the driveway of my parents house back in Pennsylvania. Continue reading Thursday’s Poem – Seventeen years later
Dealers of Death They all circled one big round table. The anticipation was alive in the spittle on their lips. No one was talking or Continue reading Thursday’s Poem – Dealers of Death
we were walking through his garlic fields outside truth or consequences. Bill told me the kids weren’t coming over. The kids never come over anymore. Continue reading Poem for Thursday