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crickets chirpingin the pine grove at midnighta frog whistles
Four in the morningthe soothing call of a robinkeeping me awake
bluejays, robins, loons,falcons, woodpeckers -- the birdsare everywhere here.but where are the squirrels?there ought to be squirrels.
i searched for yearsand finally found my guidein the mirror
He grabs a Red Bull from the fridge by the register at the BP in Camp Hill, Alabama, and adds it to the pork rinds and plain M&Ms he already has on the counter.
snow turns to sleeton a cold sunshiny daythen to snow and gone
i hear the windbut i don't feel the wind:the trees protect me
woodpecker on a logflies away and returns later --maybe they missed me
anguished cries of painsickening smells of shit and bloodthe sound of tearing flesh
along my journeya song by Journeykeeps on turning
the fire burnsfor a minute then fades --needs rekindling
5 a.m. sunrisethe birds awaken --i drowse to their music
She makes eye contact with the bartender while pointing to the empty shot glass. "Another Johnnie Black," she says.
on the tablea jelly-filled donut -- no, better:vanilla cream!