october storage problems

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if you get frozen by the weeds that arrange themselves
from a ray-lit shade of green to a pair of opposing variances,
blow your stored wheat and forgive allusions and yester’s grain;

harvest, starvest, narist’s creed –
whether you amount or leave not yourself a meaningful yield,
the sun will dip as it should;




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eu-whhhh – avengence for johnny D.

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“eu-whhhh … eh, eh, eh, eh.”

Cowboys with sadistic laughs scare me; that don’t mean you can put on a cowboy hat and laugh sadistically and expect me to be afraid of you – that just means you’re a poser and I’m about to kick your balls with my boots.

here is the story …
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    Too plainly verses were read from the Bible, for not the pastor nor the funeral goers knew the dead driver of the cargo van. Mourning, a woman asks, “What happened? Did you hear? Who was the passer-by?”

    “An unidentified cowboy who had been galloping up the highway on the mare he loved – a jaunt, just a jaunt, easy no doubt – when a cargo van on cruise control flew by, being chased by a rottweiler. She was snatching at the bumper. Run dogedy bitchedy dogedy dogedy dogedy dogedy run!
    “The bumper’s metal aggravated the bitchedy dogedy dogedy dogedy dogedy run’s teeth’s fillings. So, I reckon, instead of giving up, the dog sprinted to the front of the van, climbed onto the front bumper, shimmied onto the cumbersome hood, stood in front of the windshield, and did a rain dance.”

    “A rain dance? What for,” according to the first mourning lady.

    “Well, you see, there just is not a way to be sure. You see, at that moment clouds blew in overhead and blocked the view of the satellite camera that was recording the event from getting any more pictures from up close and personal. But you should remember that the coroner found a drop of rain in one eye of the cargo van man and two drops of saliva in the other, which caused the driver of the cargo van to lose the wheel long enough that the van cruised off the bridge and into the pond 28000 centimeters below.”

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    Meanwhile, somewhere in dusty Montana, the cowboy listened to his favorite harmonica record along with frustrated humanitarians. In his sleep he spoke: “Great day in the morning, I’ll avenge the driver’s fall.”

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    Meanwhile, at the funeral, those ladies were still babbling during the epilogue reading of the epitaph: “Well, as you can imagine, when the cowboy galloped over the bridge and saw the rottweiler pissing on the dead body he took a double take that equaled mud and disgrace. The cowboy confronted the dog and said, ‘what the hell!?’ The bitch replied, ‘hey, I drug his drowned body onto the shore so I should have the bow wow right to piss on him.’”
    The lady continued, “And, well, the rest is for the books. The cowboy avenged the cargo van man’s death exclaiming his gall with a cool puff of the hot barrel, which was the sound you heard at the beginning of this short story.”

    The first lady said, “My my my my, all is swell in my life, there are no cold days in hell, the Baptist coalition makes me pure. When somebody gives me their blessing I am just so glad that it is done that I stay happy the rest of the day. And those that struggle to climb out of the political swamp of love are ridiculous. Who was the driver by gosh?”

    “He was Johnny Dumbously, and he was a great swimmer.”

    The first lady sighed, “I am too numb to respond, and too apathetic to give a hoot.”




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the indians are a part of the problem, true

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the indians were outside the fort
there were 100’s of millions of them
they brought their catapults
and batterers to push down
our walls so they could enter
and maim

I told my wife
    get the big gun
she was bitter that I had told her what to do
she told her friends that I was abusive
she was angry that I didn’t give her
    a chance to decide on her own

it’s not sad that we died
it’s sad that we died beside one another




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tare the yarn

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suiper ladies brought
their bluejeans
to me,  fried up kindly on
their hindlegs kicked-
up ballet style. As I
awoke
the coverage dust me apparent:
    old curtains
    pains abide my body’s age
    Caesar’s servants poking my bare feet
    my wife slapstick hordes the gabreze
    sky blue in my window dull rots green an algae day




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