2023, Ohio River Valley Literature, poetry, river life, the no-scape, Working Class Literature

Autumn 2023, no. 5

arthritis has taken what little faith I had in weather reports

talk on the boat tonight is of perfect weather
the rain holding off, the breeze

what remains, really, something more jagged
than the Pollyanna hope of local meteorology

a bit more patient about the fast / slow wobble of time

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2023, home and garden, Ohio River Valley Literature, poetry, winter

Day 29, 2023

What then, almost at an end
this month… we’ve had quite
the Fool’s Spring Prelude
our hopes lead toward
talks of the garden

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/versation, lot dogs, poetry

lot dogs 5

This one’s from a couple of years ago, when I worked parking at Churchill Downs. It’s an odd world to be on the edge of; on the edge because when your primary function is to be both seen and unseen. When you’re dealing with a subculture that has its own hierarchy, its deeply rooted sense of self-importance, a complex delusion that it operates with art and dance and beauty, and an ocean of money in its black heart that is the true rhythm it runs to… you either know your place, learn your place, or you don’t stay in the place.

I worked with people, some who were so in love with the “tradition” of horse racing that they were completely blind to the fact that a junkie in an expensive suit is still a junkie. The rest of us kept our heads down.


the clouds tempestuous  the sun teasing 
bob-n-weaving like one more
past prime boxer // autumnal clouds paint
the light divine fractured one o' them
oil paintings it just breaks the heart
to try catch a sorry photo
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