let us start something new.
humm, how about a year?
okay, good, what exactly can we do with another 365 days?
on another note all together, I hear birds singing right now. It's six-thirty. My wife is starting to cook some pizza sauce and my MIL is helping my son clean the living room. Two cats are crying for their seven O'clock feeding and I am blissful at the sound of typing being done on my slim keyboard.
Back to the bird; This morning I say a pill bug by the front door and late yesterday morning my attention was drawn to a really fuzzy caterpillar. I think what I am trying to say is it is damn warm for Dec. 31st and nearly all the snow has melted away. Condensation is covering everything and just when I thought I was going to take out my motorcycle for a winter run - it started to rain, heavily. This was God mocking me.
It was warm enough to strike the outdoor Christmas decorations, put the chains on my tractor tires because I am tired of being stuck in the snow while I eliminate the snow from the drive. We were able to see all the newspapers that got lost in the snow storms and get them into the recycle, unread, I am already aware of what has happened from those days and the only important paper, with my friend featured, had been gotten already.
while striking the outdoor declaration of secular celebrations it was discovered that there were some cut lights. This happened last night I am positive - we were out smoking and we heard a noise - I loudly said something about getting my side arm and investigating while I finished my smoke. We did nothing last night thinking it was probably an animal and come to find it was probably a neighbor who is the killjoy of all things neighborly.One day he will be in the yard and learn that I am indeed armed. But it's Christmas time - I prefer to shoot people when Santa isn't looking too closely. Not that I've shot anyone before - that you know of...
Tomorrow will have new poetry. I've a Magpie to finish and have been tinkering with some words and forms. Today has had it's own poetry, tonight will have more as we fuck away 2010 and welcome fuck in 2011.
- J. Baker