Tag Archives: nature

I saw a black bear: Old Rag

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Hi.
Hey.
Pause.
Beautiful day.
It really is.
Not gonna be more of these left.
Gotta get the hiking in while I can.
Definitely.
Pause.
Keen’s?
Hm?
The boots.
Ah. Yes.
Good company.
Are they?
They do a lot for wilderness initiatives — notably in areas with bear population.
That’s great.
No, it really is. A company that spends it’s Continue reading I saw a black bear: Old Rag

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Boulevard of Broken Bus Stop’s

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That’s what I was telling him.
That’s exactly what I was telling him.
Lenny come in here screaming and hollering with —
“I don’t have my hat. When I get my hat that’s when you’ll see.”
Scratchin the pool table,
Bending over his stick like “hmmmmm.”
Serious as coffee.
What is that? Hey! What is that?
Hey! Hey!
Don’t be Continue reading Boulevard of Broken Bus Stop’s

little white running sneakers

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Contributing to the world is important. Making sure that the special in you is able to translate into a new and surprising learning experience for others, or enlightening for others is crucial.

Park bench. Cool air. Public space. About to drink peppermint tea I’m staring at the rim-filled boiling water, blowing on the water, making little waves, and I hear footsteps, grown up footsteps Continue reading little white running sneakers

(But) We don’t live in the desert

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Squalor and lemons might oust our position,
Forcing our pilgrimage to the outside world:
From routines, and whiskey: Away,
From lamps, and soda’s: Away,
From weddings, and Wal-Mart’s: Away.

Swirling, often accompanied by purple winds;
Bending our forms sashaying through sand,
We’d disappear and live off Continue reading (But) We don’t live in the desert

Frisco, and the Dead Duck

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I had a dog in high school that was amazing at three things: hunting, swimming, and running away. This dog, you come home from school, you’re tired, you just want to open your door and you open it, and his little devil brown snout wedges itself between the door way and gone. He’s gone, and you won’t see him for thirty minutes, and you can’t be like, “Fuck you, fucking Continue reading Frisco, and the Dead Duck