That Being Said

Howdy. The accompanying photo is of an art work titled “Checker Players” by Milton Avery. And my latest poetry five-pak is now available! Click here.

In a world hostile to old friends, at my age they’re probably dead; where you grew up they’re probably dead.

The café counter talk at breakfast was tattoos, who and where. You want to see it?

Nuclear war can occur without a formal declaration but not without a formal education.

A fire escape on the side of an old building, rather than a tree, graphs my family genealogy.

And when you’re told you’re among a group of select residents who are pre-qualified to save, it goes right to your head.

Coming from not that advantaged of a place our yard was heavily wooded with non-operating vehicles, runaway shopping carts, and mortal distress of a general nature.

I have little idea of who my parents were as people. That wasn’t their role.

When I was a kid we were always taught if you are in a position where a bad call could beat you, you’re in no position at all.

Sometimes God’s word is password protected.

I always tried to get on the team whose parents were known for bringing the best snacks.

In Sunday School we learned what blesses one blesses all. But often what blessed one didn’t start blessing the rest of us as fast as we would have liked, if it all.

By their airport codes shall ye know them.

Beware the human heart.

So that’s that about wickedness. Now let’s go to Psalms.