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Jun 19 · 163
Until you’re not
Woody Jun 19
I don’t let reality
get in my way
besides, everyone knows
that I am a dreamer
so let me pretend a little
while longer that you’re here
and try not to wake me
until you’re not.
Jun 12 · 70
We the Peeps
Woody Jun 12
all hands and knees ~
(the) heat on sun-browned necks
~ once trekked
dry-eyed staring
across a Sahara ~ (As did we all)
without vision (we the peeps)
~ once blind
but now we see. (And, once more, We...)
Woody Jun 9
The first lightnin’ bug
of the season
here and then just
gone in an instant, real quick
like a meteorite in peripheral vision
fast as a .30-ought-six
or a day, a year, a decade
blink and you’ll miss it.
May 30 · 259
Where did I go?
Woody May 30
I wonder
if I might
have been
that kid on
the milk
May 26 · 191
The way love operates
Woody May 26
There is a girl
half a world away
I would have been hers
she might have been mine
who can say
maybe in a different time
a different place
but that’s not the way
love operates
sometimes the knife cuts deep
and can bleed you dry
bringing you to your knees.

But a man can dream
as I so often do
about the designs you had
on your blouse
like roads that could lead me
anywhere, and your hair
too dark for a soul to brush
away that one strand that
made me think of an island
not on any map, and the down
on your belly like dust on
a blue guitar I strummed by
the porthole of your navel
and fingernails like pirates coming
aboard flogging the back of a Captain
who dared sail into your port.
Aye, aye.
May 24 · 163
Sand Creek
Woody May 24
When the moon is bone
and floats on the creek
like a dead baby, I stop
breathing and listen close
for hoofbeats of the Cavalry.
May 20 · 97
Pardon me, but...
Woody May 20
Momma died in the nursing home
Aunt Sondra died home alone
Brother Jimmy died crossing the road
after visiting Uncle Timmy at the VA
who died the very next day
while the peeps in the Press says
that the Prez said we have the best
testing but it’s overrated, like masks
I mean, pardon me, but I have to ask
does he even know what he means
or is he really as stupid as he seems?
Breaking News: Dotard now says positive cases are  a “Badge of Honor”. *******.
Apr 29 · 97
Much love
Woody Apr 29
Hey peeps,
Y’all be alright?
It’s a strange
not quite brave
new world
we’re living in.
Stay safe,
hunker down,
mask up,
wear gloves.
Be a good citizen;
much love.
👍 if you’re good.
Apr 27 · 160
Oh yeah
Woody Apr 27
I dream
of your tongue.
It’s a snake.
Oh yeah.
Don’t ever
let me forget
how you lie.
Apr 14 · 120
Moon like a brooch
Woody Apr 14
Night is weary
from her walk
over the cemetery
dark as a veil
carrying the weight
of the moon like a brooch
pinned to the breast
of her black dress
soft as coffin velvet
and deep water.
Woody Apr 7
Even the stars
are quiet, it’s like
there’s no life
at the end of their shine
only this cold distant
indifference to the dying
light around them.
Mar 29 · 117
Later, alligator
Woody Mar 29
If I had my druthers
I’d rather go fast
not slow like my brother
or snow in a glass paperweight
with a cigarette in my lips
smoke rising from my mouth
somewhere down south
preferably, on my back
not my belly like a butterfly
on a ******* truck windshield
or a bone moth caught in the web
of a black Cadillac’s radiator
that’s coming fast down the road
for me sooner or later, alligator.
Mar 12 · 420
Chiseling cherubs
Woody Mar 12
out there
must be
a rusty
old chisel
that cut 1918
in so many
stones that knows
a thing or two
on how to go
about the business
of chiseling cherubs
and words like
born, died, beloved
daughter, mother
father and son.
Mar 10 · 88
Allegory of nothing
Woody Mar 10
The wind lifts a finger
and that’s all
now that the pool hall
is closed
and the night is so cold
I think I’ll fly solo
and head on home
like I have a choice
says a voice in my head
to the bed in my cell instead
if I could only go somewhere
where the women
don’t wear boots
and the music doesn’t
have knuckles, I swear
I would but I know
that I’ll never leave here
alive like I once was
just an allegory of nothing.
Woody Mar 4
Kirk's Dik-Dik

(Maybe the gods
could have came
up with a better name)

Shingleback Skink

Prairie Voles

California Mouse

Owl Monkeys

Yet not we
H. sapiens
the false poets
of love poetry.
Feb 29 · 122
Woody Feb 29
Dead broke
near the end
of a rope, not
tied to anything
that will float
alone, hoping
the slipknot won't
hold too long
before I drop
down the slippery
***** before me.
Woody Feb 22
It’s so cold tonight
I can smoke
without a light
for that last cigarette
I’m saving for morning
my silver breath
warms the swarm of stars
like a silent request
passing through the dark
timeless light years
waiting until sleep
spreads her soft legs.
Woody Feb 15
I left work an hour early
it was sunny and breezy
kinda chilly but in no hurry
and not another cold soul
on the beach but a single gull
perched on a dune all alone
so I said **** it and pulled
my truck in, put a hoody on
and started walking along
waves lapping at my feet
looking for big-*** shark teeth
those Miocene to Pliocene
Carcharocles megalodon
prized fossils of beach bums
but I didn’t find a single one
you see, my eyes were drawn
to heart-shaped quartz pebbles
cracked right down the middle
some milky white, some clear
as glass, worn smooth by sand
and waves, stormy days, dreary
nights, like life by the Atlantic.
Valentines Day on Onslow Beach, NC 2020
Feb 7 · 3.8k
Around about midnight
Woody Feb 7
You know
I don’t know
if I’m just tired
of it all
or getting old
or both
my ribs feel
like a prison
for these feelings
I’m feeling
and sleep
is a hangman
who ties
a black cloth
over my eyes
so quiet and soft
like around
about midnight.
Woody Jan 21
I have it written
in a contract somewhere
with a publisher
to leave a flashlight
in an outhouse in order
for her to read
my latest manuscript
of poetry so aptly entitled
Lord of the Flies
or Some Such ****.
Jan 19 · 139
A star's life away
Woody Jan 19
Love isn't for the meek
it's lowdown, hard and mean
like a cold-hearted woman
which only leaves work
sadness, sickness, bills to pay
so I go it alone, solitude my only
constellation, darkness a code
to be broken, warm hearts
are a star's life away, so I wait
in the empty quiet of night
for death's love letter, an X-Ray
held high and read by the light
of a cold blue winter's moon.
Jan 15 · 336
All black and bluesy
Woody Jan 15
It’s dark
under the water
of night’s shadowy
music, all black
and bluesy
as the forevers
delusions dropped
by the wayside
like stones thrown
in a river
waiting on tomorrow’s
boat full of light
heavy with sorrow.
Dec 2019 · 156
The color of midnight rain
Woody Dec 2019
I’ve loved her
my entire life
tall dark woman
Night, her limbs
if only I could climb
and kiss the stardust
from her eyes
yet, here I sit again
by feet the color of midnight
rain smelling of wet clay.
Dec 2019 · 342
Grunge dog
Woody Dec 2019
Discerning the difference
between a squint
a glance, a long hard look
can be disconcerting
like comparing
a dagger
to a Bowie knife
a lance to a 30-ought-6
or a flint-tipped arrow
to a laser sight
focusing that narrow
deadly red beamed
dot right at my heart
to see if I’m lean
and mean enough
to waste
time on or just
another grunge dog
for a handout.
Dec 2019 · 157
Riding the moon down I-20
Woody Dec 2019
I took my dog out back for a smoke
and a ****, me the cigarette, the squatting
all hers, remembering I had forgotten
to replace the light on my deck
again, just like I forgot the two steps
smack dab in the middle from my perch
down to where my birds perch to eat
and drink and sing like I used to do
but I digress, point being, I was sober
as a fifteen year old Baptist ; ) as straight
as I-20 from Columbia to Augusta, hell
maybe all the way to Alabama, as red-
undant as that may be, no offense to
you black and blue block voting peeps
but, again I've strayed from the point
I was trying to make, you see, it was dark
and I mis-stepped and landed flat
on my ***, my dog stopped and looked
back, like, *** was that about, old friend
before continuing on with her biz, while
I lay back, lit my cig, counted my stars
unlucky tonight; there was no blood
for that bright moon to shine on, and so
I lassoed her with smoke rings and we rode down I-20, but only as far as Augusta.
Woody Dec 2019
******* in the pond/
Fat toad on a skinny rock -
I wish he would croak.
This is seriously ******-up on so many levels:

“ So ridiculous. Greta must work on her Anger Management problem, then go to a good old fashioned movie with a friend! Chill Greta, Chill!
— Donald J. Trump (@realDonaldTrump)
December12, 2019“
Dec 2019 · 419
Tonight is
Woody Dec 2019
my head
a constant
when it is
I wish
for infinite
on repeat
not death
just rest
and silent
This is where you say sueñas con los angelitos.
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