Some food for thought. Twitter (and all other social media) has made this very difficult.
I adore this.
a dream i can’t recall
9 November 2018
in autumn we embrace brown
but in the spring we will it away
in spring it’s all promise of green
watching whiskey melt the ice
rust colored trees, matching the burlap wrap
the tonic to settle the nerves
The uncertainty of love
tonight we embraced for the first time
for three years I waited for those arms to wrap around my torso
hoping for a peace to settle on our hearts
a false pretense worn away
if the color brown had a smell it would be this:
sun setting on your commute
darkened dinners with the furnace running
breathe caught in the crisp chill of forgiveness
the promise of another season
Been tryyyyying to make me a schedule during this pandemic with all the ups and downs. This gives me some hope.
I was going to let this anniversary go unacknowledged.
I must have known it was a big deal. I wrote it in my calendar. One year out. July 26th, the day I took the decision to sit down for a specific amount of time, on specific days every week, to write. No matter how I felt or what else was going on.
For one solid year I have been sitting down, for a specific amount of time, on specific days of the week to write.
I wasn’t going to mention it. But that’s just false modesty. And feeling shy about outing yourself is counterproductive when you’re in the business of writing personal essays.
You might be wondering how I did it.
I had some help. From the Tucson Writer’s Table. What we do, is write. For two hours. Together. At a table. Every Monday. After…
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What’s Donne is Done
John Donne is done.
to be made known
where he lie
yet in all fiction
clods of truth.
The bell’s final peal
tolled for he.
in dog years.
Alone, we all must
answer half-hearted riddles
dig our own holes
with the rest
a dirt nap
the other half of the coin
such is life.
The summer solstice
atop the highest
in the sky.
its carrion crawl
across the horizon
of the porch.
in the heat
the months tumble by, dry
against the unseen,
such is age.
with growing shadows
as our days
We rock here,
from our chins,
teetering back and forth
for us old-timers
in our ways
why we came out here in the first place.
I am but an insect
at social media
about the desecrated bodies
they’ve laid out for us
in the heat of the moment
the latest drama
they can cook up.
Caught in this kitchen
unable to stand the heat
against a window
the pane but a screen
yet the mesh suffocating
circulated air of
for an escape
asking the same masters
with productivity apps
and fitness trackers
winging it, buzzed
just enough to feel good about ourselves
flitting to another pile of shit.
Always such a nice time with my partner-in-crime.
In 2016 I was winding down Man Voyage IV with my best pal and Echo & Sway comrade, Jared A. Conti AKA The Oracular Beard in the upper reaches of New York’s Finger Lakes. We were chatting at length on the last stop of our three day beer & brewery pilgrimage with a knowledgeable server at Genesee’s Thirsty Pug Craft Beer Market when he wholeheartedly recommended, nay commanded us where to go next: Vermont.
His claims that Vermont breweries were churning out some of the best beers in the country weren’t entirely unfamiliar to us. Any craft beer drinker worth his/her weight in IBUs knows The Alchemist Brewery’s Heady Topper is one of the most highly rated & sought after IPAs on the market, and it more than lived up to the hype when a friend gifted us a few cans years ago. My wife & I received a…
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Think I”ve got just the poem!
This is some good stuff here.
by India LaPlace
We drove through Illinois once.
Actually, we were driving home to Utah,
From Huntsville, Alabama.
You were leaving me.
Not leaving me, really.
That wasn’t fair.
You were being deployed to South Korea.
I had to wait it out until the army said that I could come too.
I told everybody how sad I was,
How much I would miss you.
My heart was aching,
It had never felt so heavy
And I wanted to tear it out of my chest.
But it was aching because I knew I wasn’t in love
And I didn’t know how to leave.
This was real.
And I had made a mistake when I signed those papers.
I was nearly four in the morning when we finally stopped.
The hotel was shitty,
But we were exhausted.
You always talked about how you could drive for hours on a road…
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