I am tripping more than you are. Battling razzberries

[SadLuckDame]

I don't care if he wants to be mean.
See if I shows it.

[SadLuckDame]

The creeping fear of being alone one more night.
Usually I don't think of it, but here it is like a wild wind, haunting the night.
I'm spooked.

[SadLuckDame]

Down, Down
below
where the billby bobbers go

it's like a lust on the libber lillys glow.

We crate, we sink
and the marsh is what is not
it's mucked and roasted

by the silner's daughter's lot.

If only she had a dopper's dog
and the doppen dotter's made her plod

there'd be meat and muffin
there'd be meat and muffin

I hear the silner's daughter grows,
when sun is high and totters throw
I'll throw a totter, throw a totter

where's her muffins
the silner's daughter

She's reached twenty feet
and aged to be as old as trees

but, when the sun's
at it's top thrust peak

she's muffin
she's muffin.

[jackofnightmares]

creepy fears of decrepitude

when ya can't trust your knees no more

I am not superstitious

It is a good thing cause I am surrounded by chindi

got an email from an old friend, about the same age as Clay was when he died. They have a lot in common. But I guess everyone got a little PTSD even men who have survived prison here in the land of the free.

One went to Vietnam the other went to Huntsville Texas

I could use a little music
but I can't seem to find the right tune this morning as my lonely life keeps dragging on

haiku about all I got going with this scribbling of mine, but they been coming out weird,

trying to grab the essence of my existence in three lines'

[SadLuckDame]

I'm just excited to have a little company and to have a friend dropping by, makes me wanna get in the kitchen and cook a feast, bring out the good drink and try to keep you there till the sun is lulling, our minds whirring, the buzz, the rub and we're sleepy on our chairs.
Bring out a record player to have a little jazz rolling through the house.
Feeling good.

Glad to see you, Jack.
Saying it over my shoulder and through my hair
that's like over the river and through the woods.

Don't be blue. I'll poke your chin and push it to sit a little higher.
See us going in blacks and whites across the screen.

[SadLuckDame]

Dear Sir,

today I was taking the roast I cooked Friday and broke it down to cook on the stove over a low heat in a dark mushroom gravy. I needed to salt this and you know me, I don't usually salt things. I salted and peppered it.

It's ready when you are.
Always is and I'll keep doing like that.
One day we will eat together,
prolly something you dragged home.

[SadLuckDame]

Some of the gravy has gluten in it. It tastes delicious, but you know that I am here just watching to see if I die from it or if it'll make me grown tall ears and look like some beast from fairy tale.

[SadLuckDame]

I walked into a room when the bees were climbing up the wall and a tall pin chased their shadows, but eventually that pin nailed them into the paint and the drywall and that's where they are, stopped. It wasn't natural, but I look around and barely anything is recognizable nor natural at all anymore.

When my shadow's climbing up the walls, I too want to have a lot of collected pollen stored on my tiny insect legs and then maybees God can make it into honey for me, if I didn't make it out of that room alive.

I always think I want to bring him something.
I'm just the worker, but even workers can be gifters.

[SadLuckDame]

When I'm chops and rivers,
if I start to look like the back of the cat looking over her shoulder,
which looks much like the set of clouds in the horizon and the wind moves 'em lumber,
just a little and those clouds look just like the cat when she's suggesting she's going to go track something. If it is all to be the same when I am looking

than why not be some smelly old catfish from California
that Richard Brautigan put forever to keep the lonelies away from...
for some girl and that girl could have been his own girl in her bare-feet with sand between her toes and a strapped blond section across her upper thigh
or it could be a girl going to her jury duty with a band across her ankle and a solid pricey shoe
or it could be me,
it could be.

Me with a dollar to buy a camel with and lead it across the desert
thinking he was wanting me to take up his strap, to nuzzle the side of his maw bone and tell him he's the dearest camel I ever have met.

[SadLuckDame]

Dear Mister,

there is a girl with a belly full of drawers and at times some of them when pulled open are dreadfully dusty and she had not stored anything within it, then there is nothing to lay out across the bed for him to find laying out there and run his fingers across it's silky presenter.

If her luck is on horse number nine and she pulls open the number nine drawer then if it has the winnings in it, the heated breath from running, the pace, the calculations

then he will buy that horse! It will be their horse and they'll name it Mongolia!
I hope you like horses.

[SadLuckDame]

On Sundays she sits straight in a chair and lifts each doll from the dresser. One by one she drops them to the floor.

On Mondays she dresses them.

Tuesdays she fixes their hair in braids and bundles.

Wednesday she lets them lay asleep across her middle, the two sleep and sleep.

Again on Thursday.

By Friday they make treats and meated dinners. They set the table for their gentleman and ask him to tell a story and they wonder at that and this.

Saturday there is a tall mirror. There is always a mirror, but on Saturday they peer within it. And when looking they set plans for Sunday and do it all again.

[SadLuckDame]

She was surrounded by flower brocade everywhere,
but she was naked.

[SadLuckDame]

Here we are indulging ourselves over papered pork on dry redded wine brisket and papered tea blended from the yolks of mailman's travels and hearts on the amtrack, on the iced cap of our dine. We hair our chairs and inks and means.
We seem rich. We might be rich.

Yes I smile. I like those big frosted snow tracks when I'm wound and pie.

[SadLuckDame]

Likewise, where O' where are all your dolls?
Your house is filled with animal bones and skin, with mutton chops and fugitive.
Good bread on early morning.

[short timer]

nice collaboration
brautigan meets j.d salinger meets Hemingway meets Edward Abbey meets Anne Sexton meets Anais Nin meets Henry Miller.

that's my problem I got z bedroom full of book shelves.

I never read anymore. I am too busy keeping up with Betsy and Steve.

"some times it's heaven, sometimes it's hell, sometimes I don't even know"