11photographs

ive been ten thousand miles

in the mouth of a graveyard
and its a hard and its a hard

its a hard and its a hard
and its a hard rains a-gonna fall . . .

yesterday
i headed over to a cemetery
a peaceful place
to take photographs
& thinkpraymeditate as best i can
unable to slow my mind as of late

i was born
& i am going to die
n o w  is the time to live
i thought
and fully!

i want my joy to return
i want to let g0 of whateverthisdarknessis

the headstone

beneath the monument
read

scatter your flowers here
you can find no sweeter dust . . .

yesterday afternoon

as W was in town attending a $1000aplate dinner

my daughter and i joined a group of people

who had gathered

to peacefully express  d e m o c r a c y –

police officers threatened me with arrest

for pushing my daughter in her stroller

on the opposite side of the street of the protesters -

he said our sign was showing

and instructed me to turn it around-

i did – but it had the same message printed on the back-

yet i couldnt leave it behind he said

or hed arrest me for littering–

with no other way to conceal the sign

i was forced to cross the street

(mind you people could stay on that side of the street

*if* they had signs of support for W)

then while strolling down the sidewalk

had to momentarily step into the street

to clear the brush blocking our path

& immediately officers approached and threatened arrest

warning me to stay on the sidewalk-

it was strange serious and scary business

and all we were saying was

support our troops:

bring.them.home.now.

today

along a tennessee highway

i met your father -

he shared with me

his story of unendurable pain -

then he gave me a dollar

and your address

and asked that i send you a letter

with a photograph attached

so that you could see his face -

he wanted you to know he loves you…

wise

choices  . . .

today

i saw

11:11

think

it

over . . .

make me a bird

so i can fly far

far far away from here

or at least

give me

a 1959 fleetwood cadillac

to hit the road with . . .

so

i

may

f L y ~

the

red

cart

b  r  e  a  t  h  e  . . .