The Right Column

Last Moon in June

Humid today.

Crucus all are gone, 
now the rabbit is on the lawn.
He saunters by and feeds on grass.

Somethings never change
nothing need stay the same
ah, but on a website
the constant change
 is kind-of the point . . . 

Angle Spin Gauge 51 show off page

In a Stunning Summer Shocker .  . .
 . . . on an otherwise ordinary day . . .
 Oh Sgt . . . .  what have we wrought?

 In a Stunning Summer Shocker . . .
   outstanding and extrodinary
   the mountain
   and the thunderheads
   the mountain
   and the tiny Cessna
   the mountain, the lake
   the tens of thousands of trees.
   
   There gonna pop
   the top
   right off of it!
   
   There
   gonna
   pop
   the
   top
   right off of it!
   
   All of this
   well measured?
   
   
   How do you record
   a mountain exploding?
   
   On an otherwise ordinary
   afternoon
   in the Phillipines source of quote is sgt . . . .
   did I quote him wrong?
   
   
   In a Stunning Summer Shocker . . . 
   The top 
   is gonna pop
   off the top of it.
   It's gonna pop
   right off the top
   of it.
   
   on an otherwise ordinary day
   the mountain exploded.
   
    . . . on an otherwise
    ordinary day
    no one suspects anything else but
    everyone getting home safely.
    
    Sometimes the news has to be sad 
    because the news is sad
    
    the top blew sideways.
    
    They're not gonna
    pop the top?
    pop top?
    flip flop?
    why you so skitish
    and scared
    no one cared
    when you dared and
    then that device
    needed to be repaired
    or just tossed to the side
    and then no one could ever ride
    on it again.
    
    In a Stunning Summer Shocker . . . 
    the top is gonna pop
    off the side of it.
    
    pop top
    flip flip
    hippity hop
    rain barrol
    
    pop top
    pick up
    rail barrol
    full of recyclibles
    that get recycled
    no more pop tops.
    they picked them all up.
    There was a mountain of it
    they melted it down
    and made something else
    no more flip flop
    brused shoes, small metal
    cutting through.
    
    his poem
    lays upon the page and
    he's too tired now,
    it was a maassive effort
    of hubris and sludge he thinks . . . 
    he ponders? Hit send?
    not hit send?
    when does the column end?
    it never ends.
    it's not designed to be read like exposition.
    
    the poem ends
    it lays upon the page.
    He hits send.
   

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My moonie moon moon . . . 
was all over the month of June saying
"Sing sing sing to me a drummer's tune".
Outside in the eerie gloom
in the dark
out side the room.

My moonie moon moon
he had that song
and he sang it at noon
way up high a partial guy
like a ghost with the most and a winning
try
Mr. Moonie moon moon
deep inside the depths of gloom

The fog lifts, the clouds
flee, and nothing remains 
but the sky, the sun and the moon
and the rest of the month
trying to remember the song
wonder if the guitar is in tune?

My moonie moon moon said
"Call me sometime"
But it never happened.
He's not sad.
He's gone off and set down low
singing a long and ever more baratone
arpegiation to the lower octaves
and it's nothing like going into a cave,
or facing off against 
a guy with a pitchfork
of rivers of molton lava
ripping through the subdivision.
Fire fall?
Fire Island?
Fire in the hole?

It was a bad place to build a home
if you needed a home there for the 
rest of you life.
But if you knew it would only be
a short time maybe, 
willing to pay for it, 
have it for when it's there,
Mt Saint Helens blew up
and destroyed 
very many various 
real world places.

Gautamala had an erruption yesterday
and more than 50 are reported as casulties and
that is just preliminary.

My moonie moon
is sad because of the news.
What would he tell your
moonie moon moon
if he ever did call?
But alas, there came a time
when he would never call again at all
and I always kind of knew 
it would get to be like that.
And I'm not sad,
give up the need 
for that stupid shining
hope.
Have something real instead,
believe in himself, 
my moon moon moonie moon
stuck again 
inside the month of June.




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🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 🌛 

A butterbean, because the baby likes them. Buy a, poppa, poppa, The people said.

. . . only four weeks from today . . .

Mertle and a Red house Christmas! This house is in East Woodstock, Conneticuit. Photo taken Dec 2006

oh how the sea will rage in a Cape Ann Nor'Easter

Equations

🌛
    Great
    beginnings
    misting
    tired
    eyes
    with
    joyous
    hope
    aware
    and Free!

 

Please visit my DEMOS

       
   
   Live your life
in constant resurrection!


⏲⏱⏰⏲⏱⏰⏰⏲⏱⏰⏰
 ~ ; )
 

Praise the Lord!

I got nothing more