Tag Archives: personal

Calico Girl

She didn’t want me to show you her jawline because my clumsy hand had lent it a possum-like delineation which we agreed was unflattering. Old calico’s not what she used to be.Humps distances on three arthritic legs —Lost the left … Continue reading →

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My Dog

My doggy pets herself with my bare foot.The foot is there, she thinks, idle appendage.Why not let it do rewarding work?My foot responds unthinkingly to her command.It fetches the affection she has thrown,And she extols me with her lavish wag. … Continue reading →

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In Times of Tribal

— If you ain’t white, we ain’t open.(Dixie whistle.) “Voter fraud” is not about fraud. It is about who votes and how. It is about the breadth and scope of the political community… about who can call themselves Americans — … Continue reading →

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Montserrat of the Heart

When I thought I’d become a poet my head was as empty as a young male’s under-developed frontal lobe can be. In hindsight I can see it now. It was hiding in plain sight, the poetry, waiting for me to … Continue reading →

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I Have a Bone to Pick with the Food Chain

In a neighboring town I glimpsed a lone cow in a chute back of a meat processing plant. She was staring fixedly at something unidentified off to my right, heedless of my passing. Only one outcome was left for her.  … Continue reading →

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Orison for Rubble

Depending on whether I’m going or returning, not long before or after my crossings of the mighty, tea-dark Brazos near the Arredondo bridge, I pass what appears to be a Christian church whose name has kerygma in it.  For a … Continue reading →

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This Is Now (Again)

“He’s also piercingly smart about his place as a white observer in a Black art form.” (Jayson Greene, on Daniel Levin Becker) Before you-know-who was president, I encountered something called Twitter, ran with it for maybe six weeks. That was … Continue reading →

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I Need Some Writer’s Block

Really, I should draw, paint and read more, write less. It’s a constant struggle to pipe down.  Poetry, for one thing, triggers me. Intending to read a bait of versifying, before I know it I’m a keyboard Roman candle ejaculating … Continue reading →

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Atlas Shrugged and Put on a Hat

“If you don’t like country music, get outta the way! Cause we’re KBUCK and we’re gonna keep comin’ atcha!” (A radio station, name disguised) In Arabic, ignorance is expressed with a verb, not a predication. It’s not a state you … Continue reading →

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When You’re Gagging on Humbug, Remember Someone Fondly

The family must have had a matriarchal streak, for I was grandly mothered. Grandmother had a choir-dominating soprano voice in the native stone church. She knew her way around the hymnal. Could coax some harmony from the ivories of an … Continue reading →

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