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lore

just a man

drag off a cigarette smirk

a walking shell game

snake in a can

so backwards in life

one questions

reports of his death

yet

he would crookedly smile

calling it

legend

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Juicy Rationalizations

Sugary justifications,

& candied white lies

once satisfied, however,

I no longer feel full

from such high calorie

low content diets.

It’s teeth gnashing truthy meats

I have in mind.

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his laugh

if i could have anything back

any part of his essence

i would want

his laugh

as life without it has been

no life at all

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the coffee scoop

It’s ordinary…

mundane, absolutely nothing special.

Part of a set that was purchased in the late 80’s

or early nineties would be my guess.

This brown, plastic 1/8 cup scoop

that came to symbolize our every morning

spent sharing coffee

no matter if we were 12 inches

or 1,200 miles apart. We always had coffee.

It is special because he sent it to me

in a care package when I was aching for him.

I still ache for him,

so it’s my coffee scoop until my dying day.

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Distelfink (Haus-Segen)

Pennsylvania Dutch Hex Signs

The first distelfink was carved into the side of a church in Athens, Greece in 1453. A double rosette. The stained glass rose window to be seen in modern churches to this day.

In the later Byzantine Cathedral double headed eagles were common adornments.

Haus-Segen

This day

I’m making a hex sign for our barn.

To quilt together

what remains of my family

this turn round the sun

clover for luck

rosettes for love and romance

tulips for faith hope and charity

the sun and rain

for abundance and fertility

a horse to protect the livestock

oak leaves for strength of body and character

stars for success and happiness

birds for good fortune

unicorns

for virtue and piety

and the four seasons

summer, autumn, winter, spring

so that

all who see it

may know blessings

borne of thee.

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Y’all, we’re gettin’ hitched proper this time!

https://fb.me/e/3PnMpe9pV

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Americana Uncategorized

American Tune

Many’s the time I’ve been mistaken
And many times confused
Yes, and I’ve often felt forsaken
And certainly misused

Oh, but I’m alright, I’m alright
I’m just weary to my bones
Still, you don’t expect to be bright and bon vivant
So far away from home, so far away from home

And I don’t know a soul who’s not been battered
I don’t have a friend who feels at ease
I don’t know a dream that’s not been shattered
Or driven to its knees

But it’s alright, it’s alright
For we lived so well so long
Still, when I think of the
Road we’re traveling on
I wonder what’s gone wrong
I can’t help it, I wonder what has gone wrong

And I dreamed I was dying
I dreamed that my soul rose unexpectedly
And looking back down at me
Smiled reassuringly

And I dreamed I was flying
And high up above my eyes could clearly see
The Statue of Liberty
Sailing away to sea
And I dreamed I was flying

We come on the ship they call The Mayflower
We come on the ship that sailed the moon
We come in the age’s most uncertain hours
And sing an American tune

Oh, and it’s alright, it’s alright, it’s alright
You can’t be forever blessed
Still, tomorrow’s going to be another working day
And I’m trying to get some rest
That’s all I’m trying to get some rest

lyrics by Paul Simon

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Make Your Own Fun -079: Alicia Young-Neville

Hosted by the hilarious Eric Lawson, Make Your Own Fun is a series where writers of every ilk are interviewed, but mostly freegin’ poets.

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Abelard and Heloise activism affectation Americana Anne Boleyn Art astrolabe astronomy atheism baseball writing battle beauty belief books California cartography cemeteries childhood Christmas chronology cinema civility coffee comedy comfort communication confections crime criminal behavior dance death desserts destruction deviance digital art digital photography divinity domestic violence ecology education electoral process English epicuriosity epidemeology Europe fairy tales feminism festivities film forensics fucking funerals furniture geneology geography girl stuff good reads government government and a lack thereof gratitude happiness health Hell history holidays horror human behavior humanity humor Hunter S. Thompson iconography infidelity insects Jazz journalism Kentucky kindness kinetics Lent life literature local color love love poetry mindfulness mortuary sciences mourning muse mythology nature nightmares non-fiction ornithology pandemics papyrus parenting Paris performance photography physics poetic theory poetry politics pop culture produce psychology public broadcasting publishing punk puppies reading red hair in the morning, fucker grab a cab relationship studies relationships religion religious studies reproductive rights rituals romance science science writing self-care self-love sex sexism sexuality shitty shit shooting stars Short Stories slang society sociology Southern Gothic Southern Living suicide technology thanatology the arts The British Royal Crown theatre theism theology tomes traditions travel writing Uncategorized Urban Legends vice war waste weddings womens studies words writing

Ha!! Me, too…

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Abelard and Heloise activism Americana animals Anne Boleyn astrolabe astronomy baseball writing battle beauty belief bibliophilia biology books botany California cartography cemeteries childhood Christmas chronology cinema civility coffee comedy comfort communication confections corsets crime criminal behavior dance death desserts destruction deviance digital art digital photography divinity domestic violence drawing ecology education electoral process English epicuriosity epidemeology Europe fairy tales family fashion fauna feminism festivities fiction film food forensics fucking funerals furniture geneology geography girl stuff good reads government government and a lack thereof gratitude Halloween happiness health Hell history holidays human behavior iconography Jazz journalism kindness kinetics Lent life literature local color love poetry medicine mindfulness mortuary sciences mourning muse museums Music mythology nature non-fiction Ohio ornithology painting pandemics papyrus parenthood parenting Paris performance photography physics poetic theory politics pop culture produce psychology public broadcasting publishing punk puppies reading red hair in the morning, fucker grab a cab relationship studies relationships religious studies reproductive rights rituals romance science science writing seasons self-care self-love sex sexism sexuality shitty shit shooting stars Short Stories slang society sociology sociopathology Southern Gothic Southern Living suicide technology thanatology the arts The British Royal Crown theatre theism theology tomes traditions travel writing Uncategorized Urban Legends vice war waste weddings women words writing

Poof* Take MY water

https://youtu.be/eg2Kw1jIXOw