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Mother. Dreamer.

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Hi everyone, this isn't a poem, just a little PSA: I'm super super super duper sick with that infernal flu that's making the national rounds. Ugh. My son and I are both holed up in the house, fevers in excess of 103, the doctor said to ride it out with a lot of fluids. This is the first moment I've had in two days to even check in as my eyes are all wobbly and I feel like I'm gonna barf. So, anyway, the poetry continues when the barfing stops....

Love to all and big germ-free online hugs...

Here's some T Bone Burnett for you! With the Punch Brothers!

I'm a folkie, that's fo sho!

I am definitely up for a Husbki meetup!

You will get so much inspiration from your wee one that it will make up for time slump a million times over. I miss those days, they were full of so much life.

littlebirdie  ·  link  ·  parent  ·  post: He's So Who

Blob, you are always so kind to me. Thank you.

littlebirdie  ·  link  ·  parent  ·  post: He's So Who

Awww, I'm tearing up again! Mr. 18 drove back down to NM Tech last night to start another semester of astrophysics, and I'm not able to get back to school this time as I can't afford it. But I will keep reading about the universe so that I can say smart things when he calls. The letting go was a bit easier this time, but I still required a few tissues. My youngest turns 16 in a couple of weeks, and he's excited about learning to drive. I will have new struggles when he's ready for college, but he's more Pirate than Time Traveler.

So many adventures we get to have in one lifetime! So many!

Poem for 14 January, 2013

Online circular saw blades look like small UFOs hovering above a white trash wood paneled background, floating with prices and sizes and quantities listed next to them.

I click on the ripblade, a harsh shank with deep gullets, flat-topped anti-kickback teeth, and an aggressive twenty degree hook.

With so much mental mulch, and mahogany hardened thoughts, one tool will dull before finishing the job. I will have to order two.

I wish I had a badge to give you, Saydrah , because this thread is giving me hope, even theadvancedapes struggling to make sense of being dumped. I haven't been in a relationship for a few years. I kind of gave up. I'm middle-aged, kind of weird, a dreamer, got a big nose and crow's feet, got one kid still at home, bills I can't pay and a non-career filling coffee cups for southwestern yuppies wearing bolos and tooled boots. I'm nobody's fantasy.

But maybe! You folks make me believe, at least in the reading of your accounts.

Where are you and how can I get there?!?!?!?! That store is AMAZING!!!! Please tell your fiance that I adore it and her sense of style. :)

I think we're in a deep sigh right now. We've had several decades of frenetic "progress" and technological advance. The world is economically slumping at the moment, and we're all just catching our breath. Last year I had a million awesome ideas. Right now I'm desperately trying to find a job better than minimum wage coffee haggling, but my brain is mush and I've bought into the idea that life is short and difficult.

The other thing that's happened is that we've left our bodies behind in many ways. Our children are riding the ether in school and at home, and even if they get outside and ride a bike or play basketball on the school team, they spend the rest of their hours doing what I'm doing right this second - conversing with the electric body of someone I may never meet, but nonetheless someone who is real and feels real to me. Our idea field hasn't quite caught up to the electric body but it will, and then all of us regular folk (as opposed to all those visionaries flying off into blackholes and stuff) will figure it all out.

You never know when you're going to meet a bear as you walk down the acequia. Good to be prepared.

Poem for January 13

Remove your old baseball cap, toss it into the stands, let some hopepful lad catch it.

Wad your morning paper, don't line the litter box where it still replays yesterday's events.

File your uneven nails,

drain the lukewarm bath,

close the open cereal box,

grab hold of your hair and pull.


You can rotate your own moon.


Look at my palms, open flat, nothing but sun pressed reflection.

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