Photo by Jose Moreno on Unsplash
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Published March 12, 2018 by Nan MykelPhoto by Jose Moreno on Unsplash
Photo by Jose Moreno on Unsplash
At 60 and after the death of my wife, my daytime and dreamtime is peopled with those who ride my transit bus. Mostly poor and straggling, they are glad to see me. I like that. Some call me Frank, others Mr. Sloan. I see Mrs. Gaines waiting up ahead and know that means a struggle to get her into my bus. She’s cheerful though and that makes up for the loss of time. Riders depend on my schedule, you see, and I try not to disappoint them.
Birds on limb singing
Seasons they do come and go
Moonlight sonata
Powerful reblog by thefeatheredsleep

A girl who used to look forward to dinner and a movie
The simple pleasure of walking hand in hand with stillness and a harvest moon
was handed a poisoned fortune cookie
caught a virus, and that virus crawled into her stomach, like a ray gun
it changed the waves until, her stomach like arrythmia of the heart
was fitful and lurched
she was instantly sickened, from a person of health she turned
green
her body shut down and said
no, I don’t want to eat
dimly she remembered the days
she would lust and long for food
her appetite completely gone, the acidic growl of her stomach
held all dominion
she was slave to nausea 24/7
like a merciless dictator it left her no peace
even in the lingering hours of night
she woke bathed in sweat
her stomach somersaulting in wicked mirth
such a terrible feeling of imbalance…
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Balmorhea – The Winter
When I am gone beyond the pale
please know I hope to come back
for a second chance to show my
love for you and you and you too.
I already did for one.
Mom
Strong woman and strong poet. Thanks.
I had left the tv on yesterday when I lay down on the sofa for a nap. That’s how I caught the dog and pony show on CNN. I don’t have a working channel changer so I left it on because I’m innately lazy…or was innately sleepy at the time.
So I saw almost all of it, the bi-partisan sham meeting on the huge table with our pres. Reading body language, it seemed his arms folded across his chest was an unconscious attempt to protect himself from many comments. Nancy Pelosi was sitting beside him, at times speaking to him and showing him something on paper. They smiled at each other. Pres. accused someone jokingly of being “afraid of the NRA.”
He said that “we’ve already taken care of bump stocks.” (I don’t know how.)
He was affable and said he had breakfast Sunday with the NRA and that he told them “Enough is enough,” that this nonsense has to stop.
I did note that he nixed the idea of an immediate bill, saying he wanted to craft a large, sweeping bill that would be the best ever, and to include mental health. When asked if he would sign the bill he said he would “Give it my consideration.”
At first I couldn’t understand what was going on, all these elected officials buttering pres. up and throwing him complimentary remarks. I knew making the bill larger made it being passed less likely and taking its vote further away from the high tide of public passion. But how could the invited guests be so vehemently pro?
Then I realized; I was seeing a dog and pony show for voters back home to see how hard their elected official was working to respond to the grass roots movement begun by the remaining high school victims.
P.S. The very next day he visited with the NRA, probably to assure them that nothing had changed.
Funny!
If we return to earth
each lifetime,
to improve upon our previous self,
I really should be better
at juggling than I am.
II.
And I can just barely use chopsticks.

I’m too confused about Reblog/Press This to do it correctly, so I’m just saying it:
/thefeatheredsleepcom.wordpress.com/2018/02/25/so-damn-poor/
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