Sunday, March 14, 2021


 I wish I was A concubine in A harem Pampered all the time Fed delicacies Occasionally fucked Perfect life for The mentally ill who Struggle to survive life

Friday, February 26, 2021

Old mower

 Funny how our perceptions change. I saw a mower and thought, "that's a nice old mower." Then I thought, and realized I remember when that lawnmower was the new model. It wasn't so long ago. It was fresh and clean and new and exciting. It didn't look a bit old. I admired old mowers then too. Can't quite find words to say why. They give me a bit of a contented feel -- some joy. Makes me poetic. Here's two haikus. You can read them as one poem or two, I don't mind. The poet Paul Celan said that a poem is like a message in a bottle thrown out into a sea. Once you throw a message in a bottle into the sea it's not yours anymore. It belongs to the finder. They'll read it, (or not), how and as they please and it then has the meaning it has to them.

A nice old mower
Sharpened blade clean plug fresh gas
Working still just fine

A nice old mower
With its bends and curves just right
It gets the job done

I love new mowers too, don't get me wrong. It's a completely different feeling though. More excited.