life, music, books

I drove around a lot today, thinking about my life.  I listened to a lot of Mumford & Sons.

I would have a very hard time saying what my second favorite M&S song is, but my favorite song will always be “Timshel” especially given its tie-in with John Steinbeck.

I sometimes say that my favorite book is The Grapes of Wrath. Sometimes I say it is The Wonderful Wizard of Oz.  I could say the same about books by Ursula K. LeGuin, Neil Gaiman, Terry Pratchett or Neal Stephenson. As well as anything by F. Scott Fitzgerald, M. Somerset Maugham, Dorothy Parker or Virginia Woolf.

Yes, I’m a book slut.  If you ask me what my favorite one is, I will probably say the same thing when asked what my favorite sexual position is: whatever one I’m in currently.

Books Helping.jpg

So, I decided to release one last poem before publishing an eBook. So sue me.

anniversary

forgo paper, forsake cotton.
leather will crack, flake and crumble.
flowers are dead, fruit is rotten.

wood is nothing beyond bumble.
iron is a grisly faux pas.
wool is just haute masked as humble.

pottery is but mud fired raw.
tin is as archaic as Rome.
steel is a gun’s bloody maw.

all I want tonight by which to remember him
is that, a year later, I still remember him.

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Hours I own all of these ideas, but none of these images.
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