Take the bread
From the children’s mouth
Talk about the better days
And how the times they’ve changed
All our eyes color gray
You ask a lot of mother
To give up all her quiet days
I know I’ve broken the flesh
And bone
I guess you could call this spirit home
give up
clouded skies
rain mixed
Winter haze
I’m not fading away
It’s only time for me to change
I can’t come here anymore
It’s time for me to change my habits
Small virtues
have I seen
And felt the sun across
Your skin
I still feel you
I still see you
Nothing can always shine
Even you need a break
clouded skies
rain mixed
Winter haze
They say there’s no harvest here
What happens to our youth
Body soft
Red tan
Lips drunk and lungs hot
You’re high
And my eyes colour gray
I can’t come here anymore
It’s just different seasons
It’s just different reasons
Even you need a break
They ask a lot …
But you
You can’t
all the time
Keep our quiet days



Learning how to live with yourself and your own company is a huge thing…
How you act, how you love,how you treat yourself along with other people.

The whole world- short staffed – back to work, like kids leaving home, is this fair? Why is it so cruel…

We learned what we would live for
Work for
Thought we could be kinder
But instead sometimes, most of the time, forgot how to be civil and accidentally, for a time, treated others like we were at home,

Short staffed

bakers, makers, teachers, bankers, dentist, pastors, bartenders, short order cooks, long order hostesses, short hand mail workers, sex workers, and hungry men with appetites that were never thin but didn’t have a first pitch follow through to make it across a crisis, home plate or much less a schedule…

There’s a family of 12 that is sitting when you come in,
A table of 14 behind you
And the girl that greets you, grabs a beer, takes your order,runs to wash some dishes, then brings you your drinks,

Tommy doesn’t like lettuces and Reagan, convinced of a bacon allergy, because of a snap chat video at 2am…
Jots that down…

The new cook has to come out to the table…
All of this …
Is why you don’t have your one donut…

While it appears the world is re opened like Easter Sunday and a honeymoon
It’s really more like legs spread for child birth…

I wanted new experiences
So I delivered food for a time
“How are you?”
“I’m fine, never better, I’m making more money now than I’ve ever made before…I drink all day, have my meals brought to my door…the world is mine.”
“It will never last.” I said. “All good things come to an end.”

I cooked in a kitchen…

The world looked different from the inside of the bar
I would never be the same
Or maybe that was just the heat

I baked for a bakery

Atleast this would help my dating life …

I sat on her porch
“I’m sorry I was such an ass …”
“You’re supposed to be, you’re a writer. That’s what you do. You could have made me laugh more…But I’m the Elaine to your Jerry…”
“You can’t marry that…”
“You can’t marry that.”

All in all
How lucky we were
Even with loss…
Even not being ready
Even scared
Maybe we could live for those we lost…
Or at least try…
All In all…
How lucky we were.


Dad used to have us hold fence post while he drove them in the ground…it hurt like hell and if we let go he would get so frustrated. This may or may not sound bad, I don’t ask myself those questions… between testing spark plugs physically, and digging up grease traps and septic tanks and plumbing the house, all while you’re maybe 10 maybe 12?
Being told not to tell people
“We live in the basement.” (An unfinished basement that dad never built a house with)
And “we got these shoes from the dump.” (A roadside dump where magically, books and shoes or jackets would appear)

Things blur together…
He was good at dreams but terrible, terrible at execution…everything took two years and a summer…it didn’t matter what it was.

My favorite was selling produce
I got to go to the farmers markets
I got to pick out items
I remember when they were still hopping and you could get hamburgers
And food…
Every day I would set up the produce stand on the side of the road at 6am

People would stop and ask me about school or want their kids to ask me why I did it…
I would just use some prepared statement about bread on the table…

My point being
Whatever was right and wrong with my father,
I learned
I’ve always learned
I remember our house eaten by termites
I remember going to every church on the mountain and accidentally going to a snake handling church and watching his face catch up to what all that entailed…
I recall conversations that were twisted…

You learn from bad situations and bad Mgr’s and bad business and unfortunate Outcomes ….

You learn what you don’t want
You learn what you don’t want to be
That’s largely half the battle tho
Move to what you want
Say no to what you don’t

You learn how to plan ahead
Rather than break when things fall apart

I still struggle
But I’m trying

I’ve worked every day that I can remember for as long as I can remember
It’s the only thing I know
It is incredibly hard for me not to work

Now, there’s a growing strand of people
That can’t work more than 5 hours at most

In what world do we not have to work everyday

Even at marriage
Even at life
It’s work
It’s all work

It all moves forward
I’ve been terrified most of my life
Whether it was being on the side of the road during tornadoes
Or driving paper routes during tornadoes

Managing 87 employees
Firing people
Faking it

We talk a lot about how religion “holds the south back.”
Anything can hold you back
That’s just life…
My poetry and art could hold me back
My moods
My work ethic
You have to have balance

17 year old men stormed beaches
Fought wars

The only thing I know
Is that life must be faced
I have to face it
I’ve been terrified most of my life
And everything I’ve ever done I’ve done before I was ready

And I learned it on the ground
I messed up a lot
But I’m still here
I’m right here
And my life
Goes forwards
Face your life
Its pain
Its joy
Its quiet

You don’t get a redo
We are here until we are not
This isn’t a dress rehearsal
This is it
You’re not waiting for a big goal
Your life is largely
The small insignificant habits
That you think are getting you to the large goal

We change
As we grow and live and that’s ok

Let yourself live
And keep going
Keep going

Things hurt
I had to figure out what I could live with
I knew my father had poor ideas about women and marriage and god
He was terrified
So I just sat with him
We talked about work
We talked about the Atlanta braves
Listening to the ball games on the radio
And when he died I dealt with it

I still have things pop up and I have to look at it again
Such is this essay

You are the author of your life
You decide
You can decide

Move forward


Publix, more than retail

I left a 53k a year job
One year ago
Not sure if it would work out
I lost a car
Gained a lot of debt
Took a massive pay cut
Worked three jobs just to get by
Made it to full time in 90 days
Every day gets better

What I found
Was more than just retail
More than just a “job”
But a culture
Where I could learn and grow
Where I would be challenged daily
To be my best
And then better
It’s not a job
It’s more than a family
It’s a business
That each associate has ownership and responsibility of
It‘s been the greatest risk I’ve taken
But it’s been worth every hit…
The sky is literally the limit
There’s opportunity everywhere

Publix is about people
And its communities
It is as good or bad as you want it to be…
Here I’ve found values that I align with
Challenges that make me better in every area of my life…
I’ve been greatly humbled
But I’ve never been more excited about my future.

What’s your mission statement?

Our mission
Our mission at Publix is to be the premier quality food retailer in the world.

To that end, we commit to be:

Passionately focused on customer value,
Intolerant of waste,
Dedicated to the dignity, value and employment security of our associates,
Devoted to the highest standards of stewardship for our stockholders, and
Involved as responsible citizens in our communities.

Beagle in the City #302

Ethan: lets go run. You run while I ride my bike…
Francis: OUTSIDES?? Isn’t there danimals out there?
Ethan: here we go…
Simon: I think I saw a ground hog once, but I can’t find him now, they are such good hiders!
Francis: I’ll camp inside, I’ve got my shows…
Ethan: LISTEN, I’m sorry I ran over you…
But you can’t just run in front of me like that…
Simon: Well I had to sniff a rock dad, it was a really cool rock too and I thought I have the right of way, can’t I cross anytime…
Ethan: What is this nonsense, where did you get this?
Simon: Francis…
Ethan: Let’s not listen to Francis…the cat that thinks camping is sleeping ten feet from the porch light…
Besides that…you didn’t even see the snake in the road
Francis: Vipers!

Bleeding ink #1,835

Remember all you children
The sky – like water in your hands
All the flowers are wilting
In the summer sun
Waiting on the rains – again
We don’t have time on a mantle
We don’t have forever and ever after all
I wonder if they told you
How to live and love
When the darkness comes on strong
There are fires that burn the heart and blood
There are colds that set in your heart and bone
There is truth
And there is pain that settles in your eyes
Oh my youth
They say everyone has an excuse
I wonder how many of us have ever really seen you say no
I wonder if we even know what to do with it
They said he broke her after the fall
She tried to say no
Then she didn’t try at all
Don’t be afraid of hurting feelings
No is enough
You shouldn’t have to keep pushing
Even if you’ve only just changed your mind
No is enough
No excuse
No reasons
No explanations
No apology
No is complete
In life, art, work and love

Learn to hear your own heart
Learn to read those you’re with

We don’t have time on a mantle
We don’t have forever and ever after all
We don’t have time to keep wasting
On things that don’t really matter to us at all…

What if it has nothing to do with us at all



Writers Log #35

Look at all

the broken places

The hearts downtown

hide away

Say you’re ok

Clear the road

The drought came through

Taste it in the well

Jacob wrestles his lord in the desert

Tired of being tired

Tired of the struggle

Aren’t you tired yet

Of the getting kicked around

Careful kid

You’ll lose a decade

Worrying about the things

That just never come around

But you can lose more than you give

Right here in the underground

And sometimes

After a time

That just says more about you ….

my lord

My lord

The years can weigh you down

Feel it from the underground

It’s just the ghost

Of what you put in the ground

Don’t stand frozen

And they keep asking for more

The price is higher than you thought it would be

Don’t stand frozen

You keep looking for a Mile marker

How long have you been here now

aren’t you tired yet

Broken promises


They can promise you anything

At some point

You’ve got to look around

What does the tracks in the desert say…

How much more do you give away …

Careful kid

You can lose more than you give away

Hey, hey, hey,

You’re depending on you

Aren’t you tired yet

Of getting kicked around

We all know what’s right

Hey, hey, hey,

Don’t you give it all away

You’re worth the getaway

I know it all gets heavy

But these roads are made for dreaming

And the skies the limit

It’s not so lonely

It’s not so heavy

It’s not so…

Once you get over

Once you get going

The blisters from the road

The skies are nuclear tonight

You know how you want to be treated

You know how you want to be loved

You know how you want to live

How you want to work

You’re not so small

You don’t have to hide

You can live your life

– E




Writers Log #34

Still hands

Cant hold

Can’t grip

What is left to lose?

Were our hearts really whole?

Or were we just so occupied ….

Jaded minds

Unveiled eyes

Still measuring what we lost in time

And I can’t remember your voice…

All these things we thought could never leave our mind…

Is god out there somewhere with you

Is this really the blessing

Jacob wrestled for

Or is it something else

They keep you busy

They keep the wheels spinning

While you’re sleeping


Changes come on fast

Is it the same sand

In the jar

Is it the shore

Is it my body

Does it miss the sea

Does it know about eternity

Is there patience

Is there time

What is passing through your mind

What is left of my life

What is left of our time

While cities turn to dust

Another is born online

Is it about the money

Is it about my life

Is it the consistency

Is it the spice

Not the meal

Is it the hunger

Is it the evenings

With you by my side

Who said

Who said

Who said

We had time



Writer’s Log #33

Why write?

And to what purpose?

If the god idea is on the outside of the known universe

Then a creator is on the outside

Of their structure of work…

Or the structures of society…

There are no sharp edges

No walls

No ceilings

You can create whatever you want

But why…

There is a feeling –

And like most things- it’s lonely and likely,likely, a minuscule group and not the reality…

But there is a feeling at least for myself…

That it’s an Instagram society

And we must purchase

Exchange something from ourselves

To attain something – a special key – to unlock ourselves ….

But I don’t think we are a puzzle …

With pieces scattered throughout the universe …

We are whole…

Right now…

And there is a feeling- a pressure- that it must be



And useful



Imposter syndrome is likely my culprit here…

If architects build structures

And landscapers lay foundations

And gardeners set tables


Are the emotions

The colours

The sensations

The memory

For society

Imagination is so important

It’s doesn’t even have to be good or great

Just show up

Even if you sit there 250 days in a row and don’t build anything

But on the 251st day

You do

You’re an artist in and out of season

You matter


The older I get

The less I am impressed with people

headlines (they sell stories)

There’s nothing new under the sun

We gripe on our parents

Our children will gripe on us…

We feel important and like we are doing a great work

but we all will grow old and slowly fade into the corners of rooms

Possibly becoming punchlines, ignored and suddenly we will understand how our parents possibly felt


There is nothing new under the sun

It’s so easy to just fall in line and be an echo

I could write about how lovely my wife was until we divorced and then it would be so easy to say she failed in the marriage and crucify her…

And most people would be ok with that

It’s easy to occupy an established place until you step out of or over a perceived line and then you become a punchline or headline and are reminded of your place

There was a writer from the Middle East

She wrote me once and asked me to keep writing …

I read her work

And all of her writing was about losing friends in school

And bombings

And religions

I thought what it must be like

To be surrounded by religions

And people selling you something all the time

Maybe we are just another echo when we pray…

I have doubts

Like a flood

But I think about her a lot

And I – I believe in art

And so I ask

Why write?

To build

Brick by brick

Forget about what you think you know

About headlines

About social media

everything is marketing and nothing is as it seems

So …again…

What are you saying and why are you saying it?

Who are you saying it to?

Why do you want to say it?

What happens next?


– E

Radiation High radiation nights

There is a place I go (inside)

Feel all the hate

That you can hide

Sell all you can just for a headline

They will tell you

It’s not related

But look how fast you ate it

The algorithms won’t fit

Smash it apart just for –

Doubt all you can

Just for the –

Feel all the pain


The knife just before you pass it

To get the ghost on the inside

Sometimes it passes just behind my eyes


Just to kill what crawls

It’s there at the bottom

Pump the root

If you really want

To kill

what remains

the pictures in my head

constantly grow

There on the inside

All at once

You walk on water

All at once

For the sins of the fathers

Try to save what you can

Just a hole for my



There’s a place I go inside

Carry it with me

Just so I can hide



The flesh and bone

Pump what remains

Try save something you can build upon

But the ghost remains

Try to aspire but I’m not really –

And I’m running –

I’m fading-

Out of things I think I can say…..

Bleeding out


It’s all in red