Hi Ku Cat

[todski28]

he's a strange boy,
hands in the dirt, eyes on the sky,
a truck load of shit deemed a grand prize.

see him there,
fork in hand, eyes on the earth,
turning up clods, massaging the dirt.

katas down the row,
thrusts and bend, again and again,
mind lost to the rhythm, flesh with the work,
performing obeisance to his love in the earth.

Earthy and fine imagery of labour and love of labour

The slow is evocative of the writing a steady beat that you could turn earth with
Steady strong and continuous

 

[HarryHill]

Earthy and fine imagery of labour and love of labour

The slow is evocative of the writing a steady beat that you could turn earth with
Steady strong and continuous

..
Thanks Toddy, I'm glad you liked it. Sorry I'm not more hands on around the place, but I lost just about all interest when the wheel of the year project went flat.

 

[butters]

weeding can wait
on tardy rains
let them persuade
the jealous clay
to loosen its grip
as loam and leaf reconstitute
and soil gives up its claim
on greedy growth—
harvest for a patient 'barrow

 

[HarryHill]

Row seven is full occupancy,
spills on the lawn,
leaps upward,
giant tomatillos raise burly arms,
seize the clouds, shake loose the rain.
A steamy jungle runs amok where,
bells lay half buried in humid walls,
sigh happily.

 

[butters]

that worked *nods* glad you got that line/idea down

 

[butters]

poor year for fruit trees here
but, man, the squash-monsters
are taking over the gardens

thick snake-stems rampage
cross surprised, clovered aisles
unused to such annexing​

tumescent zukes jut proudly
even as outsized yellow petals, dew-damp,
welcome the fumble of experienced bees​

pattypan city, green and humid,
multi-storied place to park high-flyin' frilled saucers,
weight restrictions apply: heaviest @ ground-level only​

gnarley cukes lurk in unexpected niches
escape detection, pointing soilwards
like older versions of their zucchini cousins

lofty tomatillos strung with paper lanterns
hide secret swellings, rise above it all
ignore the rampant bawdy growth below​

cherry toms--baubled to the nth
dressed all in shades of chlorophyll
wait for someone to flip the switch​

but, best of all, softball-sized cants
their sprawling metropolis abuzz with gossip
alight with daintier blooms and fuzzy babies
protected by retractable green awnings​

 

[HarryHill]

Awesome

 

[todski28]

post 1581, on my phone it's all crammed up like a snake, on the computer the spacing is radically different, I think I prefer the phone version, but each piece is unique and stand alone, however they also intertwine as if a portrayal of the same patch of earth and it's different offerings... and now that I've said that, it would seem the computer layout may represent the crop offerings as if looking at a topographical map of the earth plot itself.

on the phone screen I read the second piece as the snake stems rampaging and it felt like I was following their tendrils from each crop to the next, either way an interesting format on top of some really good short pieces

 

[HarryHill]

..
Eight rows and she planted them sweetly.

 

[todski28]

..
Eight rows and she planted them sweetly.

Perfect!

 

[HarryHill]

Perfect!

..
Well met, good to see you. She's a caution ain't she?

 

[todski28]

..
Well met, good to see you. She's a caution ain't she?

sometimes men get lucky in life, and I believe my friend you have, and it makes me happy for both of you

 

[HarryHill]

I have called down the rain,
a battery charger sure to inflame,
electro-jiving cloud travelers,
just passing by and spot
your truck w/the hood up.
Their laughter rumbles outside.
Check the radar.

I have not called down the rain

 

[HarryHill]

..
Were I to call you smithpeter,
call with all my being to your soul,
so far away now, all chrome and candy apple red,
blasting outward; would you send some inspiration soon.

And rain, if you could manage that,
just asking and don't get carried away;
on second thought, never mind.

Some things are left to time,
others to some simple rhyme or fashion;
odd actions unimaginable, paper work, sunshine.
Too much down time, kick the machine to reboot

Play Itchy for me Johnny Fay, start the scratch, come on, today,
now is not a time to stay somewhere in the Endless Sea,
attend your Father, come to me, tell me that first refrain;
my ears missed the speech and all, but the kids loved it.

..

 

[HarryHill]

..
So this is Covid, imprisoned in cells of our own making,
real and metaphorical, stones too heavy to lift,
and I am old, tired, talking to death in the garden,
seeing it in eyes as abused as mine.

Time slows between smiles, friends, family, neighbors,
the masses purchasing supplies,
scared, exhausted, dazed, cocksure, oblivious.
Covid soup.

 

[AlexBailey]

Smoke
Choke
Croak

 

[AlexBailey]

Waking dreams
In between
Other scenes

 

[AlexBailey]

Cold air
Warm lips
Ooh!
Shivers

 

[AlexBailey]

Plans for 2020:
Fuck. Nevermind.

 

[butters]

..
So this is Covid, imprisoned in cells of our own making,
real and metaphorical, stones too heavy to lift,
and I am old, tired, talking to death in the garden,
seeing it in eyes as abused as mine.

Time slows between smiles, friends, family, neighbors,
the masses purchasing supplies,
scared, exhausted, dazed, cocksure, oblivious.
Covid soup.

i just found this

a soup, indeed. one with an acquired taste. i'd say 'roll on 2021' but kind of fear what's coming

 

[butters]

Plans for 2020:
Fuck. Nevermind.

succinct *nods*

 

[butters]

.
.
.

hi, Ku! yes, you, Ku
oh, baby baby baby
—terms of endearment​

 

[butters]

writer

don't be fooled:
though he stares out the window
body unreactive (bar coffee mug to lips and back)
hours passing
he's far from idle
brain-cogs smoking
plots and twists
erratic dialogue
denouement not elusive
just the filling in of gaps

 

[HarryHill]

..
just a few words,
that's all it takes,
Open Sesame and the genie's out the cave
and all that wealth there for the taking's
left behind as you follow that ju ju creature,
over the mountain where the bandits reside

 

[HarryHill]

Row seven is full occupancy,
spills on the lawn,
leaps upward,
giant tomatillos raise burly arms,
seize the clouds, shake loose the rain.
A steamy jungle runs amok where,
bells lay half buried in humid walls,
sigh happily.

..
Today there are few left, patty pan artifacts,
Tomatillo all rusted skyscrapers,
Tomato vines snake beneath the full Pobolano,
and the bells, bowed to the ground,
hide an immense treasure,
gathered before the frost.