Enduring. How Endearing.

Easter. Sunday morning. Neither have any meaning for me. I sit. I drink a second cup of coffee. And now I write.

If anyone has read any of my other posts you can tell the undercurrents of anger, anxiety, and angst. Being bitter is not a good look for most people. Although in the America of today bitter is becoming a by-word.


Now I need to do some catching up. Starting from...

August 22, 2020...

I live to have no opinion about everyone else's opinion.

September 15, 2020...

Ordered a phone off of Amazon last night at 5.

It was at door at 6:45.

What hath God wrought?

September 23, 2020...

Tomorrow

there is no future
for those who are enduring

Today.

December 7, 2020...

Ruminating.
It sounds so bovinian.

Cud it is.

I am milking it
For all it's worth.


Some sit with sundowns
that never rise to the occasion.


No one needs
poetry.

No one reads
a morning's passage in the rain.

No one should walk into
thunder and expect buttercups.

No one truly wants to empathize.
No one needs to eulogize
you and your say.

See?
A day of poetry got in the way.

-the kirkyard


More later. There's always more later.


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