Month: August 2023

“Saves Calendar Space” Tanka 6123(r)

(August 31, 2023)

no savant

I see

each sunrise painted monday

saves calendar space

and watchless – phoneless too! – I

parse my week to end-days “Y”*

*(While cringeless I go about a cluttered landscape picking up all three wind-broken twigs and stems – one with actual Spanish Moss attached! – from yesterday’s touted her-i-cane “I” which whimpered by Sanford for so usually long (though my rel’tives out GenevaWay say they had one awfulgad thunder-cell pass by scaring their now-English-living now-Missus Chickadee who promises to fly home to Central Florida to pursue yet a second Doctorate at U-Can’t-Finish, the former Florida Technological University renamed UCF much to elder brother Glenn’s lamented chagrin – he wanted UFO – University of Florida @ Orlando – as after half a day with ‘bated (it really is a contraction for “Abated Breath”) not even the plastic picnic spoons and forks thoughtlessly by me left on a tabletop outside moved not a milimeter, yet the cisterns were indeed replenished by one strong downpour and intermittent mists and dews and some ne’r-quite-realized demi-squalls with a final nod late last night (or was it early this morn as I trudged out darkishly to flip on the doorlight and read a few more pages of the wondrous James Reece’s adventures in SEALandville by – and here the mystery calcifies: what’s a “Joint Pseudonym”? – Jack Carr.) So I shall patrol “the back forty” for more windfall and mayhap pot some few grape tomato seedlings for pals Greg(ory) Ganas and his bright-shining star Elizabeth Sweeney(sp?) Ganas, who gifted me lucious and licentiously large carambola – starfruit to the rest of us heathens – which juices made my chin delight during the coming-for but faltering “Miss I (and us?)” of a ‘cane. And then Doctor Jeanne reminds, “but, J, it always can turn around and come back’ to which I snorted “like a lost hankie not being picked up by any stray gallant?’ Which ‘minds me to switch after one more poem to The Weaher to see what next nature brews. So far, weak tea, but nonetheless the green things are thankful.)

by Categories: J Richards

Yassy’s Dilemma Not Demystified

In My Pen
Lady Yassy: sometimes I lose a name and keep typing until it – a lot more than just sometimes – comes to me. I’ve yet to have a successful stare-down with a reluctant empty page…sometimes I just plough on and othertimes I change furrows. You pen remains ink-full and even stare-started is worth reads-a-many. You broach so much and risks lie mute below your chopping instrument so as to make the pulp-trees weep we’ve switched to phosphors on-screen and only after to we show the paper…some wadded and some still pristine and best those en-folio. This’un a keeper. J
by Categories: J Richards

“This Is Not Just Another ‘Car Talk’ Episode: But It Could Earn A Tom&Ray Attawriter…

wtf is a jalopy jones?
Jalopy Jones is the catch – or Hook if you prefer – which eventually leads to the blog 3 stones and some curious on-goings and another name surfaces and you may ask “just what is your fascination with confusion, J? A kin to panic and a fellow-traveler with obfuscation. Something akin to a well-overwashed flannel shirt which while well past its one-size-too-small limitation still gets pride of place outside the shower curtain which serves as a hanger. (Never acquired – or sought – the skill of folding shirts, either collared or “un”, so they mostly are hung. People are hanged, shirts are hung. Happy to unconfuse.) We will let the usual panel of suspects kill, castigate or congratulate – isn’t it so nice to have a poll in which the negatives outnumber the subtly-crafted “correct” and after-sought answer? Enjoy your not-Thursday: we have build-ups of inclementish weather both in our near Gulf (of Mexico) and riding the Gulf Stream with some promise of either one or the twain visiting in a few hours. Right now, it’s transcribe some morning mindlessness prior to going out for a nosh. Be well and multiply. J richards
by Categories: J Richards 2 Comments