Spiral Ham

Not the ham lover my sister Ellen was, Trying to honor my Yiddish grandmother, Christians think all humanity EVERYWHERE follow their edicts, So even at non secular food banks they only give out Ham or turkey, Not hitting you the turkey would have put any Jack Cratchet from Charles Dickens ‘The Christmas Carol ‘, to

Seven or nearly sixty-five

Three months and twenty days, I’m never going to be one of those old ladies, Died twice in two fourteen, I had no choice in returning or not, But I will next time, My youngest nephews all I got, That’s right no family! Two years since Ellen’s memorial, I need to do what needs to

Intuition

Wonder how much thought becomes intuition? Let’s examine Playdough, Mom had a recipe for eatable, But I bet the thinker was having some hard constipation before the inspiration dawn upon him or her which ever the case might be, When I busy in the smallest room in my home I just want to be done,

Salt

Yesterday after craving Doritoes at Walmart, Viewing the price and walking away, I had gained their taste, Memory had done an orgasmic slide! I satisfied my gut with thinking how good a large fry would taste, Went through drive through bought an M&M McFlurry and a large fry with two BBQ sauces, Drove to verizon

Whipping,Whipping, Whipping Trees

You might travel the world to find, A February day colder then this, But this you might think is not even Thanksgiving, Puts me in mind of movie with Denise Quad, You know the one when mother earth got fed up and reacted to our fucking with mother earth causing Global warming, Mother earth goes

No book card

No food stamp, No home, Living on street, All mammals need a home, Food, Security, Love,

Tow let

Well the brand new toilet seat is opened, The nuts and the nuts and the bolts together, One is actually on the toilet seat on the toilet, The other I just towed away in a Vicks empty container, Arthritic hands don’t twist, They’re cold and numb, So the left hand of the toilet is still

Crock or not

When its cool is best, Never crock with no pot, Don’t in a tube, In a metal tube, In Iowa’s heat, Office tree, Thaw kitchen chicken or not, Your metal home becomes extremely warm, Your face , your cheeks, grow hot, It’s entire week the weather in promised 70s, I think he thought I was

Looks greeeeeeat?

Looks good, Nice and tall, Fair worthy, Lot of rain, July is tippy toward end of month, Usually rivers still high, From Mississippi to Iowa, Saw Turkey river yesterday also high, Corn now being sold sweet corn you know, Ever year that seems to soon, When I was a kid corn was sweet in August,

Fog

Cloud, Dark as pitch, When darkness left Iowa morning, Not dawn yet, Sun was hinted at, And yet no where near, Like a box of cloudy thick white air, You can not see the cloud you ride in until the fog is white, No road signs, Ditches there but not visible, A world forgotten, Vacant,