Woody 6d
Like the snowy white egret
standing alone on one leg
so that you can’t see it
before flashing its reflection
on a mirrored blue pond
after a storm’s come and gone
leaving the condemned
the abandoned shipwrecks
of life, love and misery
one day of silence, two days
of silence, dreams
shattered unprotected
the more you wonder
the more you'll suffer.
Woody Oct 12
Munkh Khukh Tengri
The Eternal Blue Sky
as the great Kublai Khan
might have said once upon a time.

No offense intended, mind you
but I sure saw a whole mess of them
go flying by today on their way to
wherever it is that those free cheap
FEMA blue tarps go to die.

You know, the ones they gave away
to poor folks after Hurricane Florence
paid us a visit, oh, maybe a month or so
ago to this very day, to cover the holes
in the tops of their homes while waiting
for that great hope, the check in the mail.

It sure was a cool sight, on such a gray day
all that blue taking flight, like a flock of...
what?  Are there any blue birds that flock?
I’m not sure, not the big Blue Jay, the Big
Blue of the Egret family, nor the Blue Bird
that sometimes sings inside a poet’s heart
or the Indigo Bunting, not even the Blue Gross Beaks that I see at my feeders
occasionally, so, no, not like a flock of
anything that I can think of, OK?

Oh, those pretty blue tarps flying so high
up into The Eternal Blue Sky where they
go when they die, and I know the great
Kublai Khan would have smiled today
and shouted Munkh Khukh Tengri.
Woody Oct 10
Night is behind me
reading everything
I’m writing through
a hole in her building
whispering things she
thinks I should be
thinking, but when
I look over my shoulder
all I see is a star shining
through a hole in the screen
making a sound like a hush
but I know Night is still
around here somewhere
watching and waiting
taunting and tempting
like a woman, an ambush.
Woody Oct 7
Oh, what
a splendid
rabid rabbit
Men and Women
have given US
too late to
skin it.
What a long lasting travesty.  But still, we must Resist or be complicit.
Woody Oct 4
I fall in love with you
in my dreams
like the river comes
to love its journey
waking up wet with fog
trying to put my arms
around you, you
who feels like moonlight
abiding in a dark lake
soft as deep water
the empty pillow
beside me like an ache.
Woody Sep 29
So, she said
Baby, don’t feel so alone
you know
one night somebody
gonna come along
strike a match
on a tombstone
and read your name

I laughed so hard
I nearly cried; I really try
not to let it bother me
you know, this feeling
inside, so cold

I remember the deed
she gave me, to
two hills and a cave
paved with gold
it seemed
like  paradise
that warmed me
to the bone

Oh, that girl
with black hair
who could balance the moon
on her toes when she
lifted her legs in the air

Holy, holy, holy
Lord *** Almighty
how I miss her eyes
dark as night
when my dreams
are like bark
peeled by lightning.
Woody Sep 23
Today began with the best
of intentions, I made a list
of all that needs doing:

Sort out receipts for
those things FEMA
will assist with, but hope
is a check in the mail, Yo.

Faith I gave up
a long time ago,
and evaporated milk
in coffee still *****.

(Any if y’all have a cow for sell?
There’s no dairy products or produce
to be found in The Ferry, but plenty
of smokes, alcohol and dope. Go figure)

I YouTube’d how to
replace roof shingles
and now I’ve changed
my resume to Hammer
and Tacs, but No Sycles:
Will Work for Freedom
and Women for Free
Room and Back Rubs
Hot Tubs, Soft Beds,
No Board required.

(Those of a certain sort
of persuasion, of course.) ;)

I even posted online
for work in Amsterdam
or any **** place but here.

(And here is a big **** place.)

****, I’ll even go back to Afghanistan
and repair those errant holes on stone
statues  and clay homes; I’m also quite handy with a trowel and shovel, you know, though I don’t dig hats like Indiana Jones;  no,
no hat man here, me, you see.

(Particularly those tacky red MAGA hats
that remind me how great America once was, and the check’s in the mail, Dreamas)
Yo. A bit of a lightheated post. My best of choring intentions drained out somewhere between Harris Teeter and the pub where I stopped for a cold beer. Tomorrow is Mundy, after all.

It’s Thursdy now and I’m thirsty.  My local pub Blackbeard’s is mostly gone. The Riverview lost her fish house and all shuttered up. McDs doesn’t serve the kind of beverage I need. Still no milk to be found in the Ferry. FEMA came for an inspection of my place. Ha!  10 minutes and on his way. You good, bro, he say. Yo.
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