Whatever that means.
Somehow, the description I scribbled on a slip of paper still hits the mark for me.
So how was yours?
You never know what we'll churn up in cleaning a stall
Whatever that means.
Somehow, the description I scribbled on a slip of paper still hits the mark for me.
So how was yours?





Around here, you know spring has arrived when you see your first boat riding a trailer down the street. An uncovered boat, free of its shrink-wrap or tarp. Behind a battered pickup, of course.
And you can bet yourself that by the end of the day, you’ll have seen a second, if not more.
Who cares if there’s still ice on the lakes?
oh joy, another bluebook
just like college
right in the hope
of catching up
on the other side
of some strangely
gradated stranger

In the photos, I’m always off to the side.
Or somewhere in the back row.
Or even just a tad out of the frame.
As for the rabbit, Alice?
Keep your eyes on the cocky boy in the oversized coat and top hat
The lucky devil, I think now, as the inevitable third party