. I am a joe named bill . . . I know when I am at top of a hill because every which way looks down. Some friends say, "look up, look up!" but vertigo spins me into looking down and I stumble like a twice-practiced clown. Except, I have no practice at all I am just a baby brother joe named bill and I am starting to tumble and fall, not quite deciphering up from down. I know when I am at top of a hill because every which way looks down.
April 05, 2020
I ain't behind nobody . . . So there. I ain't behind you. I know how to add 2+2 to 4 & sometimes I can triple it and wait for the score. It depends who's sits the table. My lead is certain; this ain't no banking game. If you're looking for some way out, don't look to me. I know my way. Some teach some learn; some march all day.
April 01, 2020
March 31, 2020
I do not recognize lock-down fatigue. Some days have always been harder than other days. I have treasures (pictures and mementos in my home that need dusting and study and perhaps further understanding). But I look forward to the sunset and a resulting sunrise and a chance to walk outside (alone or in tandem with my mate). Shit happens. Roses bloom. Trees leaf and shade. We march with the drummer we have and always have. Slow or fast ain't the shit . . . smiles are more to the taste.
March 26, 2020
Remember what I say . . . Some importance may dawn after awhile: maybe in early morning rain, or a moving horizon. It can happen in multiple ways. Be ready, help others, but always look west at nightfall and, if possible, smile. Mostly wake facing East to raise a true dawn. Ignore the rest I say until my last utterance. The early verse is rehearsal . . . the latest . . . or finally some last stanza describes in total the state of the universe. It's where I am when I am no longer here unless I am finally lost in everywhere.
March 25, 2020
March 24, 2020
Yesterday and tomorrow are rough enough and tomorrow and tomorrow will be rougher. It is sometimes the way of my world that straight or curved paths whirl into a new reality of varieties of nonsense sometimes coalescing into pretend sense mostly to the left and twice to the right for a hundred years or so and then, again, around we go. You can't keep the same pair of dice all night. We mostly dance in patterns of hope from minus to "maybe we can cope." In my favorite world it is not best to be a squirrel.
March 22, 2020
March 17, 2020
yesterday was never tomorrow except in minds twisted in knots, living again moments of some sorrow of knowing yestermorning and now. . . some of us will be strolling along singing a bunch of very silly songs without a single nod toward tomorrow except in minds twisted in knots