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Monthly Archives: February 2016
358 OCD dish washer
I wash dishes well, or good, as in morally correct. I do not believe in air drying. Air drying washed dishes is passive aggressive cleanliness, leaving the remains of the job for someone else to arrange in the dish cabinet, … Continue reading
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357 Auction after thought
Someone is dead. I know because the auctioneer, in babbling auctionese, is ridding the stuff once filling the deceased’s life For box lots of locks and hinges. saws-alls, picture frames, china dolls, frilly lace, tea cups and plates, “La Moge!”, … Continue reading
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356 The gene pool
Nothing is relative about relatives. On the inside there resides the deep, genetic goo which makes you, you. A King like Grandpa Mike. A Jester like Cousin John. Even your daughters slutty sister, sports a lip ring, fights like a … Continue reading
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355 The calm
I love the calm after the storm, the gentle morn in contrast to the thundered, lightninged chaos of the night before. The problem with that? I need the storm with all its terror, all its fright so I can have … Continue reading
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354 She’s a tough old broad
Mothers edges: Queen Annes lace, brown eyed Susans, bunny nose, lupins. A twenty foot wide swath slaughtered on the borders made of concrete and tar. Why must we be so tidy? Why must we truck in the mighty tractors and … Continue reading
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353 Much lower than the angels. Psalms 8 revisited
The intrepid paleoanthropologists, physiologists and philosophers were unanimous in their findings related to the bone structures of the ancient, extinct inhabitants of a small, primarily watery planet on the edge of the Milky Way, a brief stopover on their interstellar … Continue reading
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352 Poem birth
My desk, pen and paper scratch an itch in my brain. Horney muses initiate unexpected passions in my head, orgasmic, semantic flow, seminal impregnation followed, by the labored birth of an idea, pure content, not yet formed, a yell not … Continue reading
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351 Beyond
There is a veil, pale thing, gossamer and corn silk, woven by Others into the concrete air we breathe. If we are reckless, or blessed, we might meander through, feeling only the tender touch of some floating web across our … Continue reading
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350 a Teacher loves the peace and storm
The peace of an early school morning. The halls are still, the bells, silent. The calm before the storm. I love the extremes, the peace and the storm. The former is readiness for learning, the latter, wrestling with the change. … Continue reading
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349 A teachers love of fruit cakes
The appeal of the orange is to discover beneath the rind the sweet and health within. The wonder of the apple is the variety of shades scarlet red to dapple. So it is with students, a mixed and crazy crowd, … Continue reading
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