'Twas a time in my life when the -
moon was a dab of wet paint waiting to be -
artistically expressed ..
Georgia red clay filled the hands of a 'potter to be'
When a pool of rainwater and a leaf -
became a clipper ship on the treacherous
sea* ..

Black coffee and waffles , hashed potatoes , catsup , country music and cigarettes ... It's sad for the memories we could have made but you are too beautiful for a man like me !

Autumn days along Port wood-row
In search of the morning fiery glow of frosted moors
Recalling the doors of my very soul to the crackle -
of frozen lakeshore , the infusion of frigid visible breath
in resplendent newborn sunshine , the rhyme of windswept
Pine , the rapport of Woodpecker and calling Finch , reflections
of Carolina blue sky o'er Gods placid , mirrored waters
Home of steaming evergreen bottomland and rock bass
river dancers , November leaves sailing the script of the
Alabama western wind , the regal prance of Whitetail Deer
to the Mourning Dove euphonic call and answer* ..

Rolled up paper napkins and plastic
wrap
Guitar picks of varying thickness
Reading glasses , cold black coffee , a
polishing cloth for a wine colored Les Paul
Staff lines with blue notes penciled in
A midnight jigger of Gin
This worn out body held prisoner by a frantic
mind
Reads like a song for another time* ....

I recall sailing sticks in front yard rain pools when I was young
Box Turtles leaving their wooded cover for the cool afternoon reward
Insects of every size and shape on starry Summer night porches
Pungent , wetted tilled earth on June mornings

If you find yourself alone for following your heart , exhibiting true compassion and understanding for all men regardless of how high they're shelved ,  by what standard held , raise a worried countenance from darkness toward a brilliant blue sky that awaits thee , be at peace for you are in good company indeed !

Eyelids protect us from the unknown , blocking evil aimed in our direction
Closed in the stormy night , saving our minds from unbridled possession
Turning our backs on what we refuse to understand
Safe in a familiar , sealed room yet curious about the other side
Abstract shape and color leading thought to temporary rest
Opening doors carved into our walls , praying for the best*.....

Standing in the clear piedmont blood ,
with understanding , with unchecked curiosity
along the jagged edgeways
Ardent Yellow Perch skipping her countercurrents ,
painted turtles at liberty atop driftwood memorials
Hardwoods sash -shay the moss painted root bound  
architecture , sunbeams expose the river bottoms ,
Blue Herons and Redtailed Hawks stand on silent
watch , birds of every color and unique song pass ,
command these silver blue corridors

A gullible gumdrop of a fella -
fooled like the daffodils of winter
Standing proud in the morning light
'Let the sunshine shine with all its might
Under the ice loiters the miracle of Spring
May the birds sing sing sing '
Hooray for meandering brooks
Let the fly , the dancer & the toad play
Let my persona be drenched in sylvan -
steam , covered in the aroma of evergreens
I should choose a name for every steppingstone
A devotional for new corn , a prayer for her newborn
April chicks , goslings & fawns
Pungent loam , red clay medians & pine thickets
The spooked , buzzing locust & the evening crickets ..

Winged seeds flying in our direction , take pause , reflect upon many harrowing hours , horrors , atrocities on occasion more ****** than battle itself , be at ease as the wind guides them towards us ! The siege has ended , help is arriving , the day of restitution ! I see sunbeams as I lie on my back , smell home cooked meals , roasted pecans and apple cider ! The scramble of men is in slow motion now , the cries are mute ! Returned to my beloved land , beneath tall Pines , warm breezes , helicopters falling from the canopy . Chasing Gods aircraft across the meadows , the remainder of my days . Forever .

Trinkets on shelves of maple , hand sewn sturdy lumber
from a mountain in Georgia  . Foolish things brought great
memories , cheap truck stop bells and shells from
the Florida beaches .. Painted rocks brought indoors by grandchildren ,
old coloring books and matchstick houses , odd belongings ..
Carnival days have died , buried in some paupers grave .
She was a foolish Hen indeed , a ******* nellie that tooled
her marble headstone thirty years before it was needed ..
He died in his chair , long before anyone really took notice ,
adjusting his antenna with a remote control , refusing to budge , drowning in his own sputum ..

Are we an atom in a huge creature , a particle in a drop of water on a glass slide ? A piece of dust blown into the air , free floating ?  It's for sure we're not alone and if found most likely we'd become sustenance for something that would love to get to know us ! Shooting information into outer space , praying for its interception ! I question the validity and the reasoning for such action !. 'Tis impossible for man to remain quiet , its built into our DNA from the moment we left the trees and first walked the forest floor to his obsession and endless occupation with a form of life we can't even begin to imagine ! A race of creature even worse than us , hell bent on our destruction !

A spellbound audience of one ! Improvisation , effortlessly playing across the surface tension ,  the most beautiful dance a figure skater every performed pales in comparison! Her choreography , calculated movements and sheer determination ! A brief performance , off again to another location , with brilliant locomotion , intricate zig zags , figure eights , interpretive whorls ! Nature created firefly to light night skies , dragonflies to mesmerize !  She was born of creative , splendid imagination and love of all things beautiful , like a musicians perfect score or creative thought penned , scribed upon tranquil water ! A diary
without a conclusion , continuous chapter in a familiar book over quiet stream , eddy and babbling brook !

I stumbled across a rock on the lake trail
It waited five hundred years to catch me -
off guard
The forest was busy with life and death
A laughing raven sensed my loneliness
The heirs to grasses which once fed -
the American bison brushed against -
my trousers
Hope eternal caught my eye in the form -
of late winter flowers
Conifers fought the invisible wind
Air filling a vacuum , rushing to fill -
a void in every direction
Theoretical madness , constant confusion
Every unique image forever lost* ....

I've currency that no other man can ever claim , incalculable wealth that billionaires will never acquire , coinage deposited over many years into the vault of my very existence , a penny for every peaceful thought , a blue diamond for each epiphany ..I've the life sustaining love of my Mary Ellen , my immediate soulmate with compassionate , limitless concurrence . I've the call of Mourning Dove , of colored leaves , indigo Dawns and frosty mornings ..
The cackle of Crows , call of turkeys and the noonday Sun high above ..
The boundless charge of natures electricity seeking each cell of my physical being , boundless fields of brilliant grass and herb , every wildflower , bramble and acorn a loving testament .. I've the cool Fall grass beneath my feet , the confluence of the Summer Sun adorning every beautiful tree .The sound of thunder , of wind and rain . The elegant colors of Cardinal , Robin , Sparrow and Wren . A cool zephyr that whispers into a captive ear , my soul blissfully dwelling in safe harbor the remainder of my years ..

Toking at the dam around twelve
Listening for rod tip bells
Muds slapping topwater , the hollow ring
of paddle striking boat , a bowed rod , a midnight
fight on a starlit warm Rico night
Connecting the heavens with wondering eyes
Tobacco smoke rising high into the sky
A jigger of peach brandy warmth
A chicken sandwich from the One Stop* ..

Late Sunday mornings beside 'Rabbit rock' on the walk home from Scott Lake , across the highway down Hemphill Road toward beautiful Camp Creek ... Blackberry stained hands , prying waters in search of crawdads and mud puppies , jumping 'Bobwhite's' along the Pine forest edge .. Whitetail tracks in every direction , homeward bound through fields of corn and sorghum ,  summer sky filled with the glorious music of the Bentley Hill UMC choir , reverberating through the wisteria scented countryside ...

You drew our names with a piece of chalk ...
I stood over it so the boys wouldn't see
it on the asphalt ...
It washed away later that afternoon in the Summer of '74 ...
And to this very day I could take you to the exact spot in College Park
where it was wrote ...

Hopeful as the streams neath springs melting snow
Broken rows teeming with April growth
Old farmers toil in the dog days-
of summer
Churning cracked land recalls the song of the vane
A poem for the plow-land they continually tame ..
Old farmers and their kind grow silent just -
as busy field houses , family and barns eventually surrender to -
the tug of the earth ...
Fighting the pang of winter for all they were worth ...

Lady bugs dancing in the breeze .. Red , yellow leaves shuffle beneath tall trees ..
Gray squirrel singing high above , wary crows bathing in the pond..
Wild turkey's running for cover , mourning dove's dine on cornfield leftovers ..
Orpington hen announcing her newest delivery , busy beavers chipping on Sweetgum and Hickory ...
Farm boys in the hayfield , sipping on hard cider , Grandpa on the tractor , chewing Red Man tobacco ..
Granny's making dumplings , a stewing hen in the kettle , cows are coming home from the riverside meadows ..
 Four leaf clover and dewberries , brown cane at the end of the dale .. A ladle full of cool water from Uncle John's well ...

Waiting for the ransom of daybreak
For Oak boughs in care of Wisterias child ,
for warm ploughland breath seeking the chilled morning address ,
Sunbeams held in gray cover , windmere hillsides
in earthly redress
Lorn , incognito Cottonwoods hosting the Mourning Dove
rituals , Sapphire flowers mingle in wetted Thistle ,
Crescendo showers telltale an oxbow brook with
clear quartz reflections , bathing the Sawgrass banks
Crimson , Nutmeg , Sassafras scent surprise , Wild onion teasing
the Dawn palate , dark earth fragrance in colorful green disguise
Gravel road , broom sage borders beneath Hickory canopies ,
leading to home

I was pronounced dead at the age of ten while eavesdropping
a conversation from a few neighborhood friends ...
Succumbed to wounds suffered from the revelation of
my physical ugliness in the eyes of others , dropped dead
where I stood , left , ran away and cried myself to bed . Still running in my mind at times ...
I was killed again by melancholia at age thirteen from a lunatic teacher
that made sport of me ... He's a crier so I heard , a freak that would never amount to anything in this world , a runt of the litter to be frowned upon , someone to be used and preyed upon ..
Shot in the head with an invisible bullet at fifteen , called a long haired
idiot by someone very dear to me , a guitarist wannabe writing songs
like all the ******* do , societies queer not worth the dirt between his boots , a lazy ******* with no place to be and nothing useful to do ..
Chastised by acquaintances for not working on cars or hunting  , watching NASCAR , playing poker and drinking liquor with 'the boys' .
... My preference was sipping coffee , reading the dictionary , playing the guitar and taking pictures .. My toys are Walt Whitman , Carl Sanburg poetry books and oak walking sticks for touring my precious Hill Country !
You ******* killed me emotionally but I'm still treading the Earth , I'm writing like a man possessed and whistling like a mockingbird , found
the love of my life , working everyday to become the best 'me' that I can possibly be , watching you beer bellied , obese , obtuse ******* physically dropping dead like green blowflies all around me !

To call you a ******* would degrade a marvelous animal , one that has provided companionship , loyalty and assistance to mankind for well over a thousand years ! You are Mica ! A lifeless rock glittering in the sunlight , with many see through layers , brittle with very little redeeming qualities , laying like a precious stone yet not even worth a casual glance ! To tag you as a stupid *** would not be fair to the Mule , hard working farm animal , strong willed till his time of dying , up at the crack of Dawn , protecting the farm from coyote and fox , off to the fields for another days work ! You're a Myna bird , eyes fixed to the looking glass , talking all day , confiding in no one , creating discord amongst your brethren ! A pig you are most certainly not , the most intelligent animal on the farm , picky eaters despite their reputation , escaping the most well built fencing available , much to the herdsman's consternation !

A final receipt .. The wherewithal consumed in heartache and betrayal..
With her heart on a sleeve , she wore a thousand faces , a smile very well ... Quiet remnants that toll curiosity , like a fittingly remembered door closed , slipped from my hand ..

Wonder what I'll do when I grow up
I could tend to a mighty blaze on the ladder
of a city firetruck
Feed dolphins on the high seas
Explore Antartica with snow up to my knees
I'm the window cleaner high atop -
the skyscrapers of Atlanta
I can see myself driving a dump truck with a load of granite
Leading an orchestra , a game warden in the forest , a candler
at the egg farm , a cobbler in a tiny shop , a blacksmith
hammering horseshoes in the smithing barn* ..

White pills for a sore shoulder
Or for pacing the house holding a psychological
boulder
Completing the circuit needed for the days
to become shorter
To make the engine run warmer
Temporarily corral a thought disorder
Get my music and poetry in some semblance
of order
To corner my physicality running ever colder
Catching the brief odor of Autumn Sugar Pines
To traipse amid the evergreen giants alone
Anything to hang on* ...

To burst through the blue cats eye
From the surety of Earth at my feet
The Pleiades and I will meet
Laughing at gravity bound-
sheep
Traipsing asteroid streets
Calling a comet my own
A crater on Mars could be my home
Jupiters agrarian lovers
Fed by the red stars above
Waving bye to the blue marble
To forever explore
To feed galactic wonder forevermore* ...

Placid , silver waters duplicate
your lovely face , the pelicans at the shore
are as brown as your eyes , breakers in the warmth of May
Dawn reminds me of shooting stars ,
our bodies entwined , bathed in the
light of the moon , wildflower collections
in the month of June , your hair reminiscent
of a September songbird tune , your pretty face now
becomes the cool of Autumn , dandelions along the
river bottom , fields of cotton beside familiar roads ,
pink azaleas glowing along my journey home

Former hotels and restaurants sit like tomatoes dying on the vine ...
Filling stations are like ghost on this highway , long abandoned but still
advertising ... Empty shells line State Route 29 , Hwy. 42 and 41 for many miles , old wood barns with ' See Rock City ' still visible from the roadside , ancient billboards rusting , antique tractors frozen and left to die , once busy , vibrant thoroughfares now have a car or two once in awhile ..  Antique stores and tourist stops that sold peaches , muscadines and pecans plus other southern treats make eerie noises now with no folks left to visit ..
Owners left to query their insignificance , boarded establishments flapping in the wind , gutted homes now prisoners of rain and the elements , grass struggles , breaking free from it's asphalt jailer , barbed wire fence shredded , no trespassing signs laying beside silent roadways ... What terror befell the people when the interstate claimed her prize , what alternatives were available during theses harrowing times ...

If everyone on Earth agreed to implement a plan for the entire human population to jump up and down once simultaneously , to halt climate change forever and renew our oceans , what a simply marvelous idea for us to get together as a team but sadly this is but a dream ..
For one was accused of jumping too high ...The other wasn't jumping high enough .. That guy jumped barefooted , the other with his boots on ..
One jumped too early while another jumped far too late ..
One jumper assumed command over all the others while another was foaming at the mouth to have reporters and photographers report his selfless humanitarian efforts ..
One could only jump on Saturday , Sunday was out of the question for others .. Some would only jump in Spring while the rest would only jump in Summer ..Etc ..............._

My brother the Christian said he would pray I found Jesus
My ex , the thirteenth Disciple and her church friends talked to God about it , basically threw me under the bus
My next door neighbor the Atheist brought pizza an fed us* ..

I will not be remembered as the leader of a mighty Army or drum major in a marching band ! Nor recognized by all of mankind for my scientific acumen , climbing Kilimanjaro or exploring the depths of the oceans ! My eulogy would not describe a man of great intellect such as the architect , lawyer or engineer ! Let my tombstone reflect upon the days of a Father , musician , poet and dreamer , that passed away with curiosity , not sadness .. A sometimes troubled man , with a love for the Arts , sunsets and the animal kingdom with a firm grasp of cherished , life long Southern traditions and moral principles* ...

In a magic workshop where new notes inch down -
an assembly line , silver haired conductors dressed to the nines
Receiving value from pipe smoking wooden timekeepers , hauled to a staff and gently placed on or between its lot in life  
A rhyme in the morn , a song in the night
A ditty to ease the mourners pity
A score to the poor , tones for the bones
Reckless jazz , a rags pizzaz
A country boy croons , Piedmont blues by-
the light of a Harvest moon ....
Cacklin' hens , morning wrens
Afternoon rains , songbird lanes ......

He appeared alone
Timid and confused by acts -
of basic civility
Wide blue eyes , bearing a -
tethered , frozen frown
Gripping a walker tightly ,
he began to blend into the -
morning crowd , waiting -
for his last name to be called out loud

Refer to me as the quasi - storyteller , laden with human debilities , a degree of lunacy and misdemeanor , albeit encouraged , engrossed by the nurturing womb of providence ..  Thoughts that seek the permanence of family , to rest , enveloped in warm Sun , secure to conjure my destiny within this forgiving lair , protected from January's fury ...

The poet and the politician thrive in wartime ...
A sense of unity across the country is established as the first bombs hit their target , a stagnant society refreshed , religious centers filled to the brim . Holding tiny flags wishing doomed soldiers well ...

It's like two people , lovers from the previous night that see one another the following day , a bit embarrassed , unsure if love or animal attraction exist between the two or heating a glass tube ,-building the facilitator for a hit of ice or two hidden from view , in a empty pack of Marlboros , people are more than aware of your "secret" discretions so why doodle , writing lines in sand that are erased at high tide , sending secret , sweet notes to the apple of your eye , building bridges for all to cross or lone tree on a island that nobody knows , creating fields of fire without a battle , stroking the ego of tyrants that don't really matter ?

A glance across the wild berry field
Wherein structure and nurture lie ,
hungry eyes filled by quiet normalcy
Independent thought untested , anxiety
bare rested , Mourning Dove and songbird
of every shape , color and form
At peace* ......

I felt the sheer physicality of disorder
Natural law brought from normalcy to the very feet of the unresolved
My foolhardy paradise was in momentary question , bewildered acreage seeking every direction , to the keeper his insignificance , to points East the coming wrath of his Maker ..

Luscious Spring is wonderful avian theater ... The cameo appearance of Bradford Pear ,  a fragrant , beneficial Chestnut Tree of April ..

Melodious springtime , 'Creations Opus stage ..'
Voluminous , arthropod soloist , capering
the riparian rivers , break the searing afternoons ,
sing to me , the cool blessing of night ...

In the throes of certain Winter , a congenital repose across the forest floor ,
naked trees bow before her mastery as sunlight pools across majestic escarpments ..
Blessed fauna bathe voraciously and supine before natures warm admonition in preparation for the morrow ...

Red ships sailed for the
Harvest moon , demons led
council in red coals , in wavering
cold air , for a moment burnt pine shared the sun ,
crackling songs were slowly sung ,
evening zephyrs corralled white smoke in a tornadic stranglehold atop nights wooden pyre* ...

Snow looks like popcorn falling
from the sky
Popcorn means a first crush at the
movie theater , a cold Dr. Pepper ,
a view from the back row armed with Raisinettes
and chocolate covered peanuts
Breezy Winter days are perfume for the soul
The returning sunshine recalls the power of a smile
Enjoy , for the snow will only last for a short while* ...

Raindrops are music on gray -
days
Satan practicing a wicked arpeggio
Hour after hour the tune plays
The wind howls with a mind to -
stack demonic notes
A wicked instrument mastered
by rote
Triplet after triplet
Eighth bend , quarter bend
Unisons , octaves , unbridled screeching
Eerie
Beelzebub's slant on musical theory ...

Red Maples do burnish woodland alleyways ..
White sugar snow vies for immortality ,
Deep blue dreams , the visible breath of
my youth , ice giving way beneath water soaked leather boots..
To bear witness of natural forestry , the rattle of peckerwoods , fluster of
pink Azaleas , Pines riding windswept fury as acorns crackle , River Birches standing noble o'er Hill Country brooks , RedTips receiving
their nervous sunny advances ..
Cattle trails lead homeward , sunlight on a Winter day that lays on
brown grass , quietly drifting away ...

A wintertide timid sun shines green along the stacked pine
In myirad hues agin some lonesome fenceline
Sparkle red clay beside the hardwood borders
Keep a writers flicker of thought in apple pie order ...

Pull the bucket mouths to the surface
See shad tremble , darting and nervous
Caste the shadow of a stately heron
Paint the colors of Spring at the behest of Hill Country's
songbird clarion...

I long for her mesmerizing gratuities .. To convalesce within boundless arcadian charms , nestled within variegated hardwood thickets , visibly enraptured and in complete faculty of mind whilst thankfully secure in every emotion ..

Moms cooling sugar cookies on top of the oven and
at age fifty- two I'm still sneaking one into a shirt pocket
without her knowing* ....

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Dawn , pulled into the light and warmth of Titan , refreshed , inquisitive and studious with paper and pen , charting the human condition with great zeal for today your Master Stroke , committed to paper and lauded by your contemporaries ! Sapientiam scribe in corde pueri et senes !