Category: Blog

We all know Hunger, and seek to avoid
the Emptiness we feel inside, and sympathize
with those whose Hunger cannot be mollified
because of Politics
the MAGAnauts, indeed,
want to spread this discontent, this Emptiness,
then fill it with whatever it is in MAGA
that burns like reflux so severe eating won’t help

We all know Hunger, Love/Lust, for Desire is
the basest human emotion, and for Men,
a constant of interior rumination,
but satisfaction for them is not enough —

ALSO, Everyone Else must forget their Loves,
requited or not, whiie MAGA fantasies
about Mount Ozempia fill their hearts & minds

We all know Hunger, Ambition, for Power,
for Wealth, for Revenge, to Control Everything,
without it, we would still live in caves or trees . . .

Government can control All things Some of the time, and
Government can control Some Things All of the time, but
Government can NOT control All Things All of the Time,
Not MAGA, Not Democracy

It was the end

of the bag of Texas pecans

I got for Christmas from my old friend

that started me thinking.

Texas pecans outweigh New England pecans by twice,

more meaty even than walnuts . . .

My Mother

instructed me in our car parked outside the Post Office

on the square of our little town <the largest square,

she said They said, after Red Square in Moscow>

as we watched an old couple caning the pecan trees,

that it was a law, a deed-restriction, that

the harvesting of pecans on the county courthouse grounds

was free and unrestricted . . .

those canes

long sturdy, varnished poles, had multiple uses,

not the least, for fishing

for in Texas, then,

no fishing license was required to use a cane pole,

and in Spring, in spawning season, bank-fishing

was better even than from a jon-boat.

I only play the lottery
because it is easier
to bear the minor grief
for the loss of
all the money I’ve wasted
than the tragic grief
of not winning millions of dollars.

We sat on a bluff shielded from the setting sun by trees, and umbrellas,
overlooking the olive grove thru sylvan vapours the color of the Mediterranean
on a hazy day
having antipasti & prosecco instead of dinner.
“This mortadella,” she said, stacking a cracker, “is to DIE for!”

On Harbor Lights #3 today, I had 4 feet for a side-hill, right-to-left par.
I was confident, I’ve missed that putt many times before,
and indeed, this one hit the low-side-edge of the hole
and lipped-out on the high side, an inch away.
As I bent down to pick it up with an oath on my lips
the ball rolled back into the cup

And the tragedy of playing alone
on this sunny, Ides of November day
Is having no one to witness it.