We can manage the cost and inconvenience to have another workshop with saws, drills, wrenches, clamps, etc and a space to park and protect the car and riding mower.   The cement floor will be Plain Jane pavement, Hooks will keep tools within easy reach,…

I’m sitting on the pavement knitting sunflowers,  eating cheddar cheese. Remembering better days. Times with space enough and more. Hardback books lined my walls and I hung my satchel on a nail before  sitting in front of the fireplace drinking wine, and tossing my  empty…

In 3022, we shall not have floating cars the physics of such a thing preposterous!   No hoverboards or floating trains only movies can still conjure because necessity trumps avarice when basic staples cost more.   No teleportation or flue powder same ol’ car, plane,…

A valley of sunflowers Looking like a field Of melted cheddar cheese Wine glass in my hand I embody this space Lounging underneath The great oak Meditating on the fact That the last thing we lose… …is hope Satchel in hand I continue this walk…

She rook a somber stroll one day In hopes to clear her mind She came upon a rundown shack The bleakest you could find Its outer walls covered in vines ’twas dark and dusty too And peering through its window pane A storm began to…

The only window in my room, Remain open, without a view. The outside world, is too poisoned. Too dangerous to even peak. Now covered with old mirror, it speaks. Mirror, mirror on the window, What can you share to me? How was the world going?…

Artists Salvaging Civilization What are you knitting? I’m knitting a nail to hold up the sky. What are you drawing? I’m drawing a wine glass to capture the sea. What are you singing? I’m singing a tune of pavements and curbs. What are you cooking?…

Like the sunflower, he opens his heart Please, do not pull it apart Living in the present is difficult That is life of the occult   As hard as hardback, it is hard to turn Right or left, near or far Please, make him stay…

I pick up my satchel And run my fingers over the sunflower patch That mother sewed on. Headed for peace and wonder, I hit the pavement to search for my own space. Under the Oak tree Buried in a hardback Pretending to be in the…

Morph ascending from the crumbling pavement, heading skyward along the old clapboards, knitting ones self into the oaken fiber of your being. A lonely nail to hang your satchel of hopes and dreams as the window frames starry nights and the field of sunflowers bow…