GRAVE POEM: EDITH MUDGET… How is it that I, who kept my hou… And, indeed, my life, and the live… Of my family, in perfect order; I, who made the beds before they w…

I have no family to care for my gr… who doesn’t care where I lay… for fourty years after an argument… which of us was bigger? in the course of our lives we bot…

I met her at the supermarket this… She told me she works in the schoo… I saw again a little girl nervousl… at the taunting –Tallest girl in g… And I wonder if she’s back there…

Life has a way of playing the vile… Or, providing an evener, some migh… I, who did not want to go to war, Seeing the senselessness of it, Stayed at home to work the farm -

surf and turf of St. Andrews olde salts and bullshit under one blue tarp gossip thick as molasses sparks quick as match-lit gas

last night the winter world transformed to summer’s sphere fireflies in the night their aimless paths alight

wind tangled trees coiling across a yellow moon spiraling leaves surf-curled dunes

see them standing in glass houses clutching stones of fear anxiety suits and shoes boots and jeans makeup and hair powdered and perfumed

Itistoocoldoutformetodayho waboutucallinsicklikeid coffwenudo

the darkening hills a triumvirate of crows in the glowing gloom

crumbling mortar and stone among the trees it stands alone morning glories creep upon the flo… the stair has fallen through the d… the music of summer is in the air

The taste of winter ice Dug in August from the sawdust Of Conley’s ice house The slap of the screen door On Grammy’s porch

Suppose you was 18 years old And never had a single thing In all your life to call yours alo… Except your body and your face? And suppose you went to work