"Some Invention!"*

(December 14, 2019)

*(In reply to Bruce Jewett’s “Narcissus borrows…”

some of us ‘vent

reason to be out at night

others sneak a pee

“By Bruce Jewett:”

narcissus borrows

whiteness from the moon

lights my outhouse path

*this clever friend of five decades’ duration continues to amaze and much if not most of my time is spent sputtering and hoping I can make it to the hedge in time…”Thanks for a great haiku, Juice! Mister (Lance General to those of us who knew him then) Jewett’s work appears regularly on Twitter: his home is “Cat Nap Revue” on WordPress. He regularly is anthologized by his peers.

””

"Cure For The Common Lie"

(December 11, 2019)

“Distrust The Big Words!” – Alternate Title

distrust the big words:

go look them up in that book*

stay – read some others!

*(You know which book – pick any one of your grandparents’ old unabridged dictionaries – if you were fortunate enough to have immigrant grandparents handy because in the waning days of the 19th and early minutes of the 20th Centuries you can bet those new Americans had a dictionary of what the words meant in their brand new language. And you are blessed if some of those grandparents’ kids read some of the other words, too. And you know what you should do right now: get that big-assed honkin’ book out and read a page a day with your own kids – or grandkids! The easiest way to disprove a lie: know what the words mean!)

"If You Think This Looks Grey…"*

(December 12 – and 14th – 2019)

low-deck gray drop-clouds

all-day drear streetscapes

*(Penned Wednesday and now ’tis Saturday after an unpromising threat of severe storms coming across the state out of The Gulf of Mexico – the first such weather-warning of the approaching Winter – but, alas, more spits and stutters than big blows though the announcer-computer-generated voice of Melbourne national weather icon currently without its lid – the radar pedestal is being “refurbished” but the warnings come and slide between dreams and I check the first bathroom for the requisite quits and blankets by which I might escape flying glass and limbs of trees sheared by twisty-winds. All that yas yet to be taken off the board but I walked downtown to the library with an almost blue-ing sky out West and slight evidence to Noah’s deluge but slick sidewalks and slicker grass and fields. I have a Sanford Old Boys (SOBs – which…I tell you three times so you know it’s true!: yest it is! yes it is!…I had no idea would acronymize out to SOBs when first I put pen to paper) Muster to attend at noon with pals from a military past and a local watering hole to render momentous decisions on what the proposed – in actuality already set – Facebook closed group shall become. That’s somewhat more than a two-beer chore, but West End Trading Company saloon and feedery is locatred at the eastern end of our town’s bidness district on Sanford Avenue which before the great fire of last century’s last century was the heart of downtown Snaffurd…and it is well into its comeback and gentrification continues apace. We old pharts will chew fat, sip suds – it is after all 2-4-1 all day though most of us have a natural two-beer limit imposed by time and doctors and owners and just plain experience. We will pray for our missing and regale each other with tales of remember when. I may even break training with a Gin-N-Tonic afternoon-cap! in honor of a needful Spring and Summer.)