Jim and Jill on market day
Watch a gret ol' bull hev his way

"Do you look at that now Jim,
Why can't you be more like him?"

"Well," said Jim, "there's a difference now-
He don't stick to the same old cow."

So I broke my nose
in high school,
and I didn't get it
fixed,
so that meant
that the air
through my nose
only went
to the left side
of my head,
and that meant
that the chi energized
my left brain,
but my right brain
was completely unenergized,
so in my travels
of learning,
I found out about
a brain balancer
which is
to put my index fingers
of both my hands
gently
right in front of
my two earlobes
and then
meditate,
breathing through
the mouth,
instead of the nose,
and I push,
gently,
on the exhale,
and I have
a great mantra
which I sing inside
as a little song,
and the first time
that I tried it,
the whole brain
opened up,
and I felt
much better.

today I read a series
of rules
for writing poetry.
one that caught my eye was:

"If it hasn't been edited, it isn't a poem. It is a draft."

it was stated with such conviction, I was convinced.
I said to myself:

"I've never written a poem... these are all
drafts."

but this guy also said:
never rhyme,
use the word soul
and you should be shot,
if it doesn't sound beautiful
it isn't a poem.

also he was writing rules
on how to write poetry.
who does that?
I resolved that he must be
a pretentious ******.

this is the raw stuff
that we all have to work with.
but no one ever publishes
their first draft.
so we're stuck
living in our own raw
footage,
and comparing it to
everyone else's highlight reel.

if you don't want to call this
poetry, that's fine.
you can **** on
my initial *****.

tonight i am feeling good
after a hard days work
maybe a little wind burned
after working outside all day
but inside my brain and soul
i feel fine, just fine
worked got some more money coming in
so to night
i will just relax, chill out, **** some wine
for tomorrow is a day off
in this life of mine
and did i tell you
I feel just fine.

Tonight
i have no shoes
and it feels alright
nothing like my dreams
i like feeling the cold  on my feet tonight
i must be a gipsy or something more
to feel so Seconal in this dream
for sure that must
be just me
in no shoes
this night
and feeling things
the ground so sure.

My day gets started early
I am up before the dawn
I do yardwork for a living
I get up to cut the lawn

Each morning brings another
Job that must be done
I've got just so many hours
I'm racing barefoot with the sun

They say that Time is Money
And I am always overdrawn
I wake up for work each morning
I blink twice, my day is gone
The only ending to my problem
Is when the snow begins to blow
That's when everything lies dormant
Waiting for the spring to grow

The trees drop leaves like crazy
An orange carpet all around
I have to mulch their golden cover
I can't just leave it on the ground

I fertilize and aerate
I trim the hedges by the drive
I pull the weeds there in the garden
I help to make your plants survive

They say that Time is Money
And I am always overdrawn
I wake up for work each morning
I blink twice, my day is gone
The only ending to my problem
Is when the snow begins to blow
That's when everything lies dormant
Waiting for the spring to grow

It's not a job for many
In fact it's not a job for most
Each year we hire newbies
And in three weeks most are toast

I wake up every morning
Hit the floor, I'm on the run
This ain't the job for many
But for me, it is the one.

They say that Time is Money
And I am always overdrawn
I wake up for work each morning
I blink twice, my day is gone
The only ending to my problem
Is when the snow begins to blow
That's when everything lies dormant
Waiting for the spring to grow