I hope that when I die, My old pals and chums, Will adopt a highway
At the driveway guitar sale, I watch old men, Heft various 60’s electrics, And strike surly-lead-guitarist poses…
We old folk talk a lot of the hereafter: we walk into a room and say, “what are we here after?” Buff Whitman-Bradley tries to get back to a favorite childhood memory, and then another! Memory’s Horses I am hiking a muddy trailIn the wooded hillsOn a brilliant spring morningAfter many days of rain.Purple and […]
By now your body is probably just molecules spread out all over the place mingling with other kinds of molecules in the earth the water the air…