Bamboo Shoots breeze
Enduring 2020
She lifts her left foot slowly, moving forward Steadily, if only by six inches. This Is how she gets to Foodland every Thursday, Senior discount day. She is as…
Bamboo Shoots breeze
Tamerlane and other Poems by a Bostonian
He paid for one night with his last twenty hidden away in his otherwise empty wallet the gallon of cheap red weighed heavily in the brown paper bag, stuck between…
Bamboo Shoots breeze
This is a very rough draft of ON HE RODE — Chapter Thirty-Three
One thing about owning an old car is that it gives you a good excuse to spend hours poking around wrecking yards, archaeological sites of great interest and value as…
Bamboo Shoots breeze
Haiku #1
Distant feral squeals. Backyard dogs losing their minds. PAH! The rice pau cook.
Bamboo Shoots breeze
A very rough first draft: ON HE RODE — Chapter Thirty-Two
To complete the Carlsbad Experience, cavewalkers are encouraged to return at sunset to watch clouds of bats emerge from the depths of orifices far beyond the gentle limits of our…
Bamboo Shoots breeze
ON HE RODE — Chapter Thirty-One (a very rough first draft)
It’s becoming a bit obvious that I need to talk to somebody — anybody will do, anybody who will deign to put up with the likes of me. The radio…
Bamboo Shoots breeze
Chili and Cheese Fries
figured it’s time to visit Zippy’s again not the restaurant the take-out, where food is less expensive and you can still sit down if you so desire the cashier was…
Bamboo Shoots breeze
Stamping License Plates
I wrote like a madman Poured my whole soul into it At least what I thought was my soul Didn’t answer the phone Forgot to shave and didn’t brush my…
Bamboo Shoots breeze
ON HE RODE — Chapter Thirty
Ha-wong! Or would that be kara-whong!? Just what sound does a meteor make when it plows full-speed into hard desert rock? Anything like the Smack! of horsehide on cowhide of…
Bamboo Shoots breeze
ON HE RODE — Chapter Twenty-Nine (A Rough Draft)
Lucky for me, the car never hit the bike and the ditch flattened out to cushioning undergrowth. My great black Dutch ditch-bike was a girder on wheels, impervious to bending…