under this lonely moon bemused by a solitary goose 'wonkg'— wanting the perfect V migration
Washing the Dog’s Blue Dish
Farely was gone. They had taken him to the vet. His tail thumped on the gurney. Then it stopped. The eyes glazed, and he was gone. Dianne was surprised to find herself thinking about it two days later. She had not particularly liked the grubby old dog—he was Doug’s. But she stood at the kitchen … Continue reading Washing the Dog’s Blue Dish
Willow grove bows and nods articulating wind’s whim on which hawk rides, hunts Posted in response to both of the Ragtag Community Word of the Day: adulation, as well as, well, articulate. Thanks, guys and gals.
Of All the Ways
Of all the ways to open— blackbird on post—oke-n-leedr red winging away
How Loud Does a Thirty-Two Finned Fish Whistle Blow?
How and why and when Jonas Ammitian caught the biggest rainbow trout in the world is in part because of the man he met in a bar in West Bench, Montana, but mostly because of the kerfuffle being made of his life at the time. Jonas was not even a fisherman. He was a plain, salt … Continue reading How Loud Does a Thirty-Two Finned Fish Whistle Blow?
Arrant noise, gnaty lancer, gory glut, dodgy dancer, swatted not. Another from the archives.
Pickles are not Among the Chosen.
“You know, really, pickles aren’t green,” Edna said. She was emptying a jar of koshers into her mouth. Vern, per usual and to remain on the safe side, did not say anything. He kept head down and his brown, work leathered hand dipping the soup spoon into the oatmeal and lifting it into his mouth. … Continue reading Pickles are not Among the Chosen.
A Neighbor, a Bull, Some Purebred Cows, and a Dilapidated Fence.
This morning Archie Dwiddlen was retrospecting about some of our old neighbors. It seems Alden and Issac were neighbors with a fence between them. There was a some confusion about who should maintain the fence. Alden was pretty sure it was Issac’s potion of the fence that Alden’s mongrel angus bull was sneaking through to … Continue reading A Neighbor, a Bull, Some Purebred Cows, and a Dilapidated Fence.
What if a species was going extinct practically gone almost KA-BLOOEY and what if TV and the Times stopped midmeaning and maybe nobody anymore said three armed men or six armed men or nine armed men or anything about any amount of arms and what if TV and Time couldn’t figure the only possible something … Continue reading Endangered
Black cows graze new grass— cranes dance among the calves— Still :: raven rides the sky.