Posts for June 15, 2025 (page 2)

Son of German immigrants.
Born on a farm in horse and buggy days.
Learned to drive Model A car when he cane of age.
Survivor of polio but with one leg shorter
so Four F not fighting in both the World Wars.
Could fix anything, repairman not needed.
Finished our unfinished home, saving money to buy it.

My home fixer Dad built outdoor food grill,
and bird houses in trees.
Later learned to fix cars, ours never in shop.
Acting home doctor for me, removing splinters painlessly.
Taught me to drive, no paid lessons needed.

Not a drinker or smoker.
Always healthy and strong.
Retired Superintendent – factory career.
Looked forward to years of peace and contentment,
not deserving the years of mental decline
that cane with the fate of dementia,
not knowing me or grandchildren.
On this Father’s Day he’s remembered.

iron rusts in lovesick
ways blood congeals on pavement
lizard on the pavement
memories of a face
I’m a lizard on the pavement
sitting waiting
stirring for your rays

after Mangione

12 lemons
zest, no pith
no pith, no bitterness
double recipe, 12 servings
when life gives you
your brother-in-law’s credit card
spend $4 on 11 lemons
and $17 on chicken wings
you have to trim yourself
but the day gets better! gets luckier!
the lemon on the kitchen counter in the 
clear plastic produce bag
can you use it, please?
does anyone have big plans for this lemon
in particular
or can you use it, please?
go for it, go ahead, go wild
thanks, this is great!
12 lemons, now
all yellow zest, no white pith bitterness
soak in sugar overnight, two hours on the counter
the rest in the fridge
labeled clearly SUGARED LEMONS
juice of 12 lemons, too
and finish it all tomorrow so it’ll be ready
the day after that
12 lemons and then
endless compliments and
a full table with one-too-few chairs

This morning thunder shakes me out of bed
and there is Molly the dog at the screen door
whining to come in.
Shirtless and shoeless, I join her outside
to watch clouds roll in from the southwest,
together we make a dash for the tobacco barn.
Around the vernal pond with its yellow irises
past the blooming elderberry bushes
we arrive at the barn at the exact instant
the shower begins to pelt the metal roof, 
those few minutes are like being suspended 
in the time at the end of your life
when your mind leaves your body.
As my once young and agile self
I float to the top rail 
and look down
as the last stick of tobacco is being handed up,
all those fellas  
I worked for and with 
are gone now and yet alive with me here,
their names etched deeper than tombstones.

The cessation of the pounding rain
is more sudden than when it began.
Molly stands close,
wonders what my next move will be   

Between us

To the family in my head 
its time to shut up
and go to bed

I know it’s tough sometimes 
but please give me a rest
I really am doing my best

Ofcourse you can’t see
your all to busy arguing with me

All those emotions
getting caught in the feels
this surely isn’t real

Take a breath in 
let it all out
again and again 
repeat 

Quiet now in my head
quickly climb into bed.

Good Night 

slb

one is dead 
the other living 
they are both sand 
between the fingers 
a formless presence 
that’s not going anywhere 
no matter 
how hard I shake

Sunrise’s fashion today
begins in tiger orange, melts
into creamsicle delights,
into peachy whites—
and hues of blues
that deepen dark
into the horizon,
create some kind
of magic, then dip
into my soul
to soothe.
If only for this hour.
If only
in my imagination.

I see you, turtle.
Say hi to Granny for me.
Back in the water.