Where I live, you see, is the future
which nobody saw coming but me,

and I guarantee, its truth,
I consider ants sentient, indeed.

I cringe for my imaginary Jain friends,
I just smashed another dozen scouting sugar ants,

and I sang to them as I did,
hoping their tiny antennae
knew the deal,
we throw ant-edibles in rodent safe containers,
out past the edge
of the motion sensors,
ants of all common sorts are welcome.

- because our fire ants have some how mellowed
- since arriving from Texas
on waves of dread… fire ants,
maybe that kind never got here. any way
- now, we live with them and all the others
- on the edge of the eastern pacific
- super colony that has no war
- on its inner or outer edges.

But one must consider ants
as sapient sentients,
senders of signals, wireless radio,
wee-tiny antennae vibes,
to sing a song ants can translate that says,
This human says: I shall **** all you send to my kitchen.
It is a thought song, you think it, as you ****.
You might try it if, you consider
ants are not just pests, but
interesting life tools, for living in dirt
with no screens, lack so obvious it is
noticed by any with attention to antennae
as intense as
that that of Everest Pax, who in April began his sixth year…
Now, who
can hold the ant mind
long enough to imagine the queen,
with Ender-vision?
Through the eyes that watched me **** the scouts,
and signal boundaries to the Queen.

When I was little, my grandpa was my world
My world, who took me under his wing
And taught me everything I knew
My grandpa was strict and did get on my nerves
But deep inside, he knew that I loved him
We wrote letters on the floor
Drew pictures on the wall
He was there for me with my every step
But one gloomy day,
He went out
Couldn’t say goodbye
And I didn’t know that it was the last day
That I’d see him by
He went out
Fairly fine, with that warm smile spread across his face
But never did he return
Back to our home once again
From the road, he went straight to the hospital bed
Where he laid for his next three months straight
Waited for long for him to recover
Waited with hope and pain
Went to see him but not a word he said
He couldn’t smile with me like before
Nor he could comfort me with his words
As I stared, my tears;
They were pouring down like the rain.
Can he see?
Does he know?
I am here
Grandpa, please
Just look at me once
Smile at me once more
Just say that you’ll be fine
That you won’t be lonely,
Without me by your side.
I wanted him here
With me as I grow
But he was in a hurry
to get closer to god.
One dark day
I saw my mom’s face
And I knew that he left me behind
No last goodbye
No last hug
No last words
He just went
Keeping nothing but his memories
For me to grief and bawl.

Interrupted by my grandson with a telescope.
I think…
that never happened to many old men,
I feel,
special, y'know, like
I am and something like
this happened only because
I exist as this child imagines I am.
I am useless, unless I am
yet, after all,
Good at games grand father who knows stars
by name
and planets on planes intersecting our own.

_ I _ settle to see less sense intended than taken
as my reaction
results in a ripple
through time, to this place you imagine exists
as you read random lines
preforming perceptual preceptorial exploits
making peace
past all the battlefields imagined,
as legends go, we know the tropes,
all were digitized, the battles being refought result
in the same ever afters observers imagine.
No sane child can imagine studying war
no more moral interpretation
art implication
prepostper-full three decade dose of teleostic vision,
and unforgettable jingles
on the radio.
---
hit the road, Jack, jack of the lantern, lighter of lamps,
watcher in the night,
we have no need of warning,

we have drowned.

Goodnight Irene, goodnight
I'll see you in my dreams
------- farawayfaraway faraway
Home
Sometimes I live in the country
Sometimes I live in town
Sometimes I have a great notion
To jump into the river and drown

see ya'round' sunshine.

The love for you Ive always had,
Left me the same time you did
But the regretful thoughts never will

Hey grandpa,
It’s been a hot minute huh?

I’m growing up,
But its not all ‘thumbs-up.’

Ive heard so little
About your curious life.

I wish we met,
Before you left.

An amazing editor
That I admire.

How I miss you!

Even though,
In the photo’s,

You seem to be,
So very tired.

Hey son
Tomorrow will seem drunk
But don't take easy on it
If world seems like whisky tomorrow
Chase
Coz we live this life for once
Not twice😅😅😅