What is Luck Anyway?

Who’s luck is it anyway?

Mine or yours…or, does it really matter?

Truth be told…it is all speculation,

living in the middle with all its,

pomp and circumstances and…


I hear the echo of your words,

“it all seems a little shaky!”

Perhaps, it is the lack of oxygen.

The thinning of the air.

The mocking of the birds.

That makes that statement seem…more or less absurd.

Something to Throw in the Snow



I have lost it.  I placed it on the ground.

My burden…

For all the world to see.

Had I.

long ago,

seen that black cat in my path.imageedit_46_8448002766

I would have taken a different pass.

That is of no consequence now.  As I place faith down…


await the last laugh.

After all,

only the devoutly, pampered,

knead peace and harmony.

All the same,

these were not gentle persuaders that brought me to my knees.

It is my own ruthless mind…

That is the cruelest to be kind.

My restless spirit has visited here before.

Belligerent, naked, on the soiled floor.

Knelt in prayer.


encrusted with yesterday’s snow.

Freckled cheeks,

turned from the winds that come and go.

I have hastened and wrest…

time and time again,

with self-pity.

Cast many a tired, leery, shadow to the snow.

Yet, as always,

a mindful hiker.

A trail left behind.

For when acceptance comes to mind.



Outfoxed by Fate


When and where does the credence begin?

Flagrant and fragrant, fragments, plotted in my hamlet, of few.

‘Come forth, with sleeplessness’, I say.

Until I can cry the way I intend to.

How convenient it would be to…

fall to the mire.

Diligently kneeling in prayer, whilst in the soil.

What a pious return to,

‘amassing all that we toil.’

A thousand oaks,

one lone pine.

Futility runs through me,


by design.

Boots strapped.

Denim in disarray.

I kiss the rain on my cheeks.

Run my twisted hand over walking stick of defeat.

Thus far,

another day devoted to Pandora’s box.

It would appear that after many arrogant attempts…

Fate cannot be out foxed. 



Rhonda’s Done Gone to the City!

Daddy, come quick, Rhonda Lee’s gone to the city!!  What the hell we suppse to do?  What the hell has gone in stirred her?

Franklin NH
‘this town was stranded in a blizzard with it’s wife beaters on!’

It’s happened before with that gal!  Uppin’ and leavin’ with that damn Dough Dot.  Bad ‘nough Daddy named Rhonda after that there singer…Janet Leigh…and gone and gut that wrong. Ya’ can’t tell Daddy anything…we all just played along.  Everyone at the Elk’s on the fateful night knew there weren’t no singer named Janet Leigh…It was Bruce and everyone knows…Bruce was the I-talian actor on the Brady Bunch!

No matter, Rhonda had gone and taken leave of her senses ever since she hooked up with Baby Daddy number four!  Dough Dot was a no good ‘couldn’t suck the milk out of a pregnant cow’, low down, dirty shit heel. And, him too, running off to the courthouse…changing his name.

‘Welp, if Snoop and P Diddy can do it…fuck if I can too!’

Supposed ta’ call him ‘the Dough’ now!  What’s that boy thinking?  He ain’t no white rapper!

I’d known somethin’ was up when I hear Rhonda talkin’ ’bout TomTom.  Says she was gonna go over to the Davisville Flea Market with TomTom…almost like a threat. The two of ’em, Dot and Rhonda cuzzin’ back in fro like that. Why last night whilst I had been neutering the local Tom cats with rubberbands…I’d happen by that old Dodge…I happen to press my Darwin ear up next to the shattered back window. Rhonda all full of herself.  Talkin’ that trash to someone’s  I couldn’t see.

‘You are still on the fastest route and it’s 10:28!’ a voice filled with smoked announced.

I thans hear Rhonda getting all butch and cocksure:

‘I’ve done alot of stupid things…I’ll probably do sum more!’

Ya’ know it was then I membered what Grandma Ruth said just before she took off with that Puertorican Cemetary Man…

‘Wanda’, she said, ‘I’ve seen the road to hell and just where it starts!’

Knew at that moment in time, stuck up in those woods with those mountain folk all my life….  Snooping ’round the dodge, knee-deep in my own shit…I knew she was right! But as I turned to make the night into day…I hear that voice.  Riddled with backwater spit and filled to the gills with chew…It was Dough!

‘I’m Jacking it…it’s getting up there.’ 

That Dot is soiled! Daddy once told me when I had my first menstrual…‘Wanda, don’t you go looking for trouble…trouble always finds the Fannys!’

The Fanny family ain’t had a lick off luck since that Tar Plant moved in and plowed those watermelon bushes down!’ Trouble with a capital T.  I’d knew’d it then.  I’d known it now. Rhonda and Dough and this ‘TomTom‘ were up to no good. So, I’z hid myself behind the outdoor freezer and waited and waited and waited.  Calls for Dough were ringing in left and right on that thing he calls an Eye phone.

‘Where’s my damn newspaper Boy!  I’m gonna skin your hide when I gets hold of ya’!’

An all I hears Dough say?  Don’t want to leave the truck!  Shut the fuck up ya’ asshole.  I knows what God damn time it is…TomTom. The angrier Dough got the more Rhonda poked fun. How’s that TomTom now?  Hey, Mr. Dick Wad…did ya’ know we’s on the corner of Dummer and Dummer? So I ran.  I ran.  And, I ran sum more! Daddy, come quick Rhonda’s gone to the flea market.  Rhonda’s headin’ to da city!

Today, was the official beginning of Turkey Vulture mating season and when those birds get to gettin’ it on…there’s no tellin’ what will happen to the small children. That being said, Daddy grabbed his pair of safety scissors and went out down through those woods like a republican after a two dollar whore.

So I ran.  I ran.  And, I ran sum more! Finally, just up over the hill where that old Pinto lies dead and right passed the goat milk farm…I saw the figure of Daddy. Huffin’ and puffin’.  Standing over a sink hole of swill and swine and sweat…but not standing over a Dodge. Rhonda and Dough musta’ gotten themselves put together.  Nothing ’bout but the green green grass of green green grass.  I could hear a crack pipe drop them woods got so still. Daddy crying and sobbing and wondering how to tell Mama ’bout Rhonda.  Everyone knows not to interrupt Mama whilst she’s watching that Dr. PHil. Right ’round the time I was planning my escape…I’d heard it like a My Favorite Martian or the Tinman.  It was the voice of TomTom. They’d gone and left TomTom behind. Stuck between the here and now lay TomTom.  Still arguing and going on ’bout ‘you are still on the fastest route.  Turn right. Turn right again.  And, you’ve come full circle.’

That damn TomTom knew it all along.

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Ya’ can’t get there from here!