The details

This morning, I was not feeling it.
I was anxious, sore and tired.
I had 10 pallets to work and it was 3am
(That’s a relatively small truck for us too)
It was my sixth day in a row.
On top of that, we were short handed.
But my boss came in at 4am,
Just to help and give me some pointers on small adjustments I could make to be more efficient with my time…
You see,
Every minute counts and those add up.
And the truth is, it’s hard to see and hard to hear sometimes but it really is time management that either makes your day or breaks your day.
It’s usually not the big things killing us.
For example,
Small adjustments,
So easy I was almost mad that I overlooked it…but once I adjusted ….
I had 7 out of 10 pallets broke down and done by 6am.

You need other people to help you grow
You need that other perspective
You can’t win on your own….
You need smarter people in the room
You need to surround yourself with people who force you to grow and challenge yourself
You need people who tell you no…
You need people to help you level up.

That’s how you make it
That’s how you grow
That’s how you learn and how you help those around you grow
And achieve their goals.


Francis Cash #29

Ethan: How are you feeling today boys? You want to do stuff today or just be lazy?
Francis: I’m feeling kind of snackish…maybe the porch.
Ethan: The other day I asked you and you didn’t want to do ANYTHING.
Francis: Well you always want to go cave diving or bike jumping or book stores! Climb mountainy mountains!
Ethan: I asked if you wanted to go to the park…
Francis: Oh…wheely? Wows…I don’t ‘member that…


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.


(I’m going to have to convert a room into a studio because with pets this is almost impossible)

This is your hurt calling
How many,many is the numeral infinity….
The notebooks you fill
To catch the oceans inside
But we still try
And you are
Silver and gold
Hearts still beating
On the butchers floor
Feel the stars take the hold
This is your hurt calling
You live and you hold
Silver and gold
Stars and Infinity
Constantly grow
Let the earth take hold
You could never be held
Not with control
You deserve to be free

Stars (light years)

They’ve been sending signals to the sky
These messages for years
Into light years
Hoping for some return
Here’s the secret
If there is a return
It would be light years away…
It takes years…
This is the kicker,
Your power,
They don’t want you to know
Because the messages would be from the future
That’s light years
Decades away
Because they receive the messages
They read your art
Listened to your favorite songs
They know how all of this ends
You make it
You survive, all of, this….
Like the pages from a book
Your words
Your lines
Your art
Your signals
They stand as evidence
That you were here
Here’s your power
Those messages
The return
Are all around you
in the quiet
The stillness
Stardust in your skin
Lights in the sky
The quiet
If you just listen
We survive
We continue
We survive
So send your art
Your words
Your signals
You are worthy

Slow sorrow


In between

The fields

Of smoke

And ash


Bombed into remains


He saw the sunrise


He wondered how

We seek perfection

Like a destination


We will finally

Be able to do


Be the thing we desire

Out there

Where there is no evil

no wounds

No broken places

No slow sorrow


He checked his bandage

Someone called out his name


It was snowing



Surely we must be strong enough

Even in the broken places

To love

To love

To love



The Graveyard (love is a hashtag lost in the algorithm)

It’s a long walk
From the dream
To the graveyard
Soles of your shoes
Worn through
You try for your art
For your love
You try to write
But is it the words ?
Or the aesthetic
Would the life
The words
Stand on their own?
The hash
The filter
The aesthetic
We are group thought
Born into this newsfeed
Conditioned and groomed
And we are shot through
By the stale morning breath that is reality


We ran through
Every midnight pain
We were down
There is no survivors
No one knows
What will
And will not come
Maybe it’s fate
Maybe it’s just
How the fires burn
But babe
Good god babe
No one could ever say
We didn’t walk these roads
We didn’t carry the load
We didn’t fight against
Our destruction
And hey there
Can you remember
The early morning
The smell of winter
Over this town
And hey there
I can remember
The smell of your perfume
Your head on my shoulder
Eyes so bright
And even the rain
Doesn’t bother
To fight
What no one knows ….
We ran these roads
We took the poison
We took the chances
Some of us left
But someone always comes back
And we pick up
Right where we left off
Both feet on the ground
Keeping rough hands
About what’s never been –
Where the midnight fire is …
The whiskey is smoother
And the women are stronger
And they kiss with a fire
We wake up with the morning
Building a dream
In the heart of this town….



Consent is easy
It looks like
Me sending you texts all day
Tongue and two finger combos
what I wish I could do
Because I know you like them
It looks like me
Wearing a tie
Because I know
You like to take it off
And be blindfolded
Is both of us
Having fun
Both of us
Burning out together
Both of us
Coupled together
A spliced electrical wire
That’s consent
If it isn’t firing
If it isn’t equally enthusiastic
If you’re not in to it
Than I’m not having fun
We can do something different
There is no pressure to be anything

Other than who and what we are

Consent is easy