PLAYING TIJUANA BRASS AS LOUDLY AS I CAN
IN HONOR OF OUR SOMETIMES CROSS-EYED, LONG GONE OL’ MAN
HERE’S TO THE “HARKS!” THE OCCASIONAL EYAH,
ALL THE LOVELY FLOWERS FROM HAWAI-YAH
CHEAP RED WINE; FRESH, HOT BREAD
ARM WRESTLING NIGHTS WITH STEVE AND WITH TED
WINNING KITES MADE WITH BOB
SLURPY DINNERS WITH CORN ON THE COB
ERIC ON HIS SHOULDERS AS THEY “WALKED THE RANCH,”
LOUD, LOUD MUSIC THAT MADE US ALL DANCE
LOUD GUITAR STRUMMIN’,
MOM ALWAYS HUMMIN’
TOUGH AS NUTS, BUT A SOFT OL’ TOUCH
WE COULD MAKE HIM MAD, BUT NOT TOO MUCH
AS ONE OF HIS GIRLS, ROX, MAG, RUTH
I’LL TELL YOU THE TRUTH
HE WAS PRETTY DAMNED COOL
SOMETIMES ACTED THE FOOL
BUT ONLY TO GET US TO STOP OUR MOPING
I’M SURE WE BECAME THE PEOPLE FOR WHICH MOM AND HE WERE HOPING
SO IT’S ALL GOOD
LET’S SHARE SOME GOOD FOOD
AND A LAUGH OR TOO
AND RAISE A GLASS OF HOMBRE
I could not find you today, James.
Too many flags. Too many headstones. Too many names.
I thought I would never forget just where they placed you.
Near the flag pole above the lake, with all proper ado,
Among others from the Gulf and other wars
With a view of the beautiful, wide outdoors
You were, and are loved, my dear young friend;
You worked hard to make good, then went ’round the bend.
You died much too early at your very own hand
in a blast to your head from your pistol; a broken man,
while your bitch of a wife stood yelling how unfair you were to her.
You went to war, but it was always, always all about her.
I could go on…
but I really only wanted to say I couldn’t find you today,
but I looked… I looked… and I still pray
for the repose of your soul, that your heart has healed;
the full purpose of your life finally revealed.
Some say suicide is a coward’s way out,
but knowing you, I have no doubt
it was your perfect solution for all your pain.
I cannot find fault in your accurate aim,
though I selfishly wish you’d missed.
Peace be with you, James Edmond, USAF
Damn, it’s a beautiful day!
Cloudless crystal blue skies and crisp, cool air
Lush green lawns soaking up what’s left of the snow
Pretty young woman swinging in her polka dot dress along South Broadway
Chickadees, robins, and doves noising up the trees
White capped mountains calling “get your *ss up here!”
Harmonizing with ol’ John Denver singing and strumming on the CD
Life is GOOD!
Life is good…
yes, it is
Have you noticed the similarity of words used to describe a swamp?
Sog, bog, slog…
My shoes grew soggy as I slogged through the bog in the open space.
Muck, suck, duck…
The duck was sucked into the muck before he knew what was happening
I’ll have to keep working on this one..
Snow watered tulips
pushing through winter compost.
Signs of life! So rude.
After Tuesday’s snow –
heavy, wet, breaking branches –
Wednesday’s sun was sweet.
oh, what of the clouds building over Mt. Evans…
here at the light on County Line at Quebec
the sky is clear
the sun is etching new lines ’round my eyes
and for this thirty seconds
nothing in the world is off kilter
…oh, quit your honking!