and now...

i run a farm...

http://5lbsofdirt.blogspot.com/

fin

“sell the house. sell the car. sell the kids. find someone else. forget it. I’m never coming back. forget it.”

oh pho toes

almost to where

western ny...
and i can't describe the feeling...
is it ecstasy?
is it mourning?
fear?
courage?
joy?
sadness?
melancholy?
...
been so long on my own don't quite know what to do...
seems so long ago since wyoming.
so long since riding with kurt
meeting kevin on the mississippi.
seems like a lifetime ago harold, liza and i left oakland.
a lifetime since the desert,
since the canyons,
since nebraska.
and it all feels like yesterday.
the cold greeted me in western new york and i was glad for it
made my outside feel like my inside feels.

shred hard

i do my best.
but i still want to be the tin whistle player...
or the budhran.

a very beary night in the alleghanies

oh sweet closed campgrounds...
with your tables and fire pits and locked gates to keep out cars.
oh sweet labor day...
with your "official" end of summer and return to school blues.
oh bears...
with your beary ways and your gorging, prehibernation food fests.
oh bear hangs...
made out of spent bike tubes, bungee cords, tattered found on the side of the road ropes and bike lock cord that kinda of only made it into a bouncy food sack suspended barely 8 feet high and about twenty feet from my not so sleeping head. if i was a bear i would have found great joy in playfully swatting it around and then eating all of the owners food as he cowered in his nylon safe haven a few feet away.