Tuesday, August 14, 2012
Wednesday, August 08, 2012
Tuesday, August 07, 2012
Saturday, August 04, 2012
Summering Down
Summer is winding right on down. I'm knee deep in tomatoes. Yesterday I made soup. Today it's salsa. Tomorrow? I'm waiting for inspiration. In January we'll remember fondly how tired we were of BLTs.
My friend Jesus Moya has started a new blog: The Readers List. For the next 12 months he'll be reading (and writing about) only books his friends have recommended to him. So check it out. I still need to add something. Hmm.
In a week I'll be heading to Northern California to visit the Redwoods and run through the forest with Ms. Jo. I'll probably just see the back of her head far ahead of me, bobbing along. So expect the usual turn-the-blog-into-a-travel-log routine. I'll be posting from the BlackBerry. Gads. I had to say that. Or put BlackBerry next to Gads, rather. They're both kind of quaint. Anyway, there will be pics and posts and whatnot.
For now, though, it's back to the tomatoes. What to do? What to do?
My friend Jesus Moya has started a new blog: The Readers List. For the next 12 months he'll be reading (and writing about) only books his friends have recommended to him. So check it out. I still need to add something. Hmm.
In a week I'll be heading to Northern California to visit the Redwoods and run through the forest with Ms. Jo. I'll probably just see the back of her head far ahead of me, bobbing along. So expect the usual turn-the-blog-into-a-travel-log routine. I'll be posting from the BlackBerry. Gads. I had to say that. Or put BlackBerry next to Gads, rather. They're both kind of quaint. Anyway, there will be pics and posts and whatnot.
For now, though, it's back to the tomatoes. What to do? What to do?
Thursday, August 02, 2012
Monday, July 30, 2012
Who Are You?
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
We Are Waiting For Rain
As I drive through town
A man steps into the road
Between OC Liquor and
The Osceola Wearly Monument
Company, aiming for a
Row of mailboxes on
The south side of Lincolnway.
I might know him.
The gait seems familiar,
But the hair has gone blondish-
White, and, frankly, I can’t
Quite gather a name.
The pavement is dry.
His head is tilted
Towards the firmament.
No, no anvils.
We are waiting for rain.
He does not see me.
I lift my foot from the pedal
And let it hover while
He ambles curbside and
Turns his attention
To the U.S. Mail.
My foot finds
The accelerator and I travel
Across Baugo Creek,
Past the train trestle
To the stoplight that marks
The Saint Joseph/Elkhart
County line, where I skirt
The edge and go no further.
Jack White is singing on the radio.
I want love…
I park the car at the end of my
Drive and turn the volume
Up one click.
The sky appears unmoved.
A man steps into the road
Between OC Liquor and
The Osceola Wearly Monument
Company, aiming for a
Row of mailboxes on
The south side of Lincolnway.
I might know him.
The gait seems familiar,
But the hair has gone blondish-
White, and, frankly, I can’t
Quite gather a name.
The pavement is dry.
His head is tilted
Towards the firmament.
No, no anvils.
We are waiting for rain.
He does not see me.
I lift my foot from the pedal
And let it hover while
He ambles curbside and
Turns his attention
To the U.S. Mail.
My foot finds
The accelerator and I travel
Across Baugo Creek,
Past the train trestle
To the stoplight that marks
The Saint Joseph/Elkhart
County line, where I skirt
The edge and go no further.
Jack White is singing on the radio.
I want love…
I park the car at the end of my
Drive and turn the volume
Up one click.
The sky appears unmoved.
Sunday, July 22, 2012
Saturday, July 14, 2012
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