Saturday, November 29, 2014

Old Dusty and the Return

Wild wind blows across the porch
Leaves wander and run away
The trees sway
Everything I pick up either has rust or dust on it
Colors fade
The sky is in a dull color
Invisible chickens run around
Looking for one more worm
Conspiracy is on the step
I plunder my mailbox in search of packages
Packages of Christmas and birthdays
A train seems to be coming
Birds fly for hours
The moon waits 
And the fireplace burns wood
What a strange season. 

Sunday, January 19, 2014

Tomorrow We Will Arrive in Nacogdoches

Nights of silent moon
Let me see the trees
Far across the fields
My mind makes images
Far off shadows.
Wagons creak down a mud trodden road
Without light but the moon
Like a filtered sun
Shadow light guides us
Down the road to the creek
We must make camp now
Tomorrow we will arrive in Nacogdoches.

Monday, July 22, 2013

Holy Fire Ant Hell

The field I see in the distance
There are fire ants there
Their mounds await for some feet,
To sting until you yell
Holy ant mama hell!
Then you run and fall into water
A pond or creek, maybe
The sting lights up your whole body.
Until you become beacon.
Or bacon.

The Horsemen of Tunage

Wild horsemen race past my house
With yelling 
They turn around and come back again
With yelling
This time I run outside and yell,
It does no good!
They are having gathering down the road
They have small radios attached to their horses
They blast Lightings' Guitar Rag. 
The horsemen of Tunage.

Sunday, July 21, 2013

Thunder Of

Thunder in the distance
Sound of rumble wagon
Run away train of the sky
Sound as if the sky was in tear
Window pane shutters
I drop my florescent light
Understanding an ancient
Run to the cave
It shall rain now.

Wednesday, May 29, 2013

Bigfoots and Zombies

Bigfoot eats bacon
Zombie eats brains
Bigfoot has the walk
Zombie has a drag
Bigfoot blends in to wilderness
Zombie blends in to a black and white movie
Bigfoot stinks
Zombie, I don't know?

Taters to the Family

Digging taters all day
I throw them at zombies in the evening
When moontime arises
Sometimes they love onions
Sometimes they hate onions
It depends on the dirt they left
If they were dug out of sand
They are still cranky but fair
If they were dug out of clay
They are sunspot and full moon crazy
That is when they get a tater in the face.