Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

the painting was done- she was walking towards a bizneess
meeting geese and paperwork
and a whole lotta shit

7 years and a broken back later
but what is time?

love had once again
turned the tides
shone moonlight in the darkest most tender places

places he wished he had never.... wasted
for now-
regret is a sassy snake slithering thru the grass
with a bite
you are out
like a light

why ?
fried fish and chips
southern hospitality
soy beans for miles
budwiser country that arkansaw
bubbly little girls that work real hard



he was dead inside
nothing really got into his heart anymore
just lost it
he relinquished his fetishes
momentarily
hanging on to some forlorn idenity

still need yellow paint
the sun is not shining
the back route to the fishing hole is flodded

its nearly impossible to move forward without a hard look at the past....my dreams have been become movies with complex scenarios, each a different take on a foggy memory...each a way to look at the choices that were presented from an alternative viewpoint....in the dreams i am often a bystander...looking at my life.....listening to dialogue I don't remember

your poem seems to cover a lot of ground....I really like the poem's ending:

"the back route to the fishing hole is flooded"

busy ness
like writing
keeping busy is good