My Glassy Back Yard

My Daughter, Reyna Marie

Mist & Sticks

motherhood and potatoes

over rows of ripe swiss chard
with a potato in each plump hand
Jeremiah waddles toward the basket.
they tumble from his slow release
and he turns to you making a dirt cloud
against his Oshkosh bib.
you rub your belly and by implication
the one inside

three will be enough.

your focus returns to the unearthing -
two more dusty tubers. he says gank-you
like a bird and bounces back to the basket.
a curio on the ground, he pincers it
blindly against the sun
and his cherub hair whiffles
in beams of love.

Train on the Island

This is an old time song. I was working in the library one day and needed a break.

this is my first blog poast ever

The misspelling is intentional because I am eating toast.
I took some pictures of pretty snow a few days ago. I will post them later today. I also have a few videos to poast. (They don't include toast.)

I just discovered this Sufjan Stevens guy, and it was mostly because of B who can be found here. (B is awesome.) He uses a banjo, and so do I.