A poem

Egad! A month with no posts. Unacceptable. Here is something to tide you over until I get my writings on my dear school and the Krampuslauf up.


The road to hells canyon
is tangled but not hard
the greatest dangers
are the suddenly desperate dear
quiet ranches
keep silence spreading
on the early morning fog
the use of politics
is roughly equal to baling twine
both holding a strange grip around the provender of lives
both coming out mostly when the days slop downhill
the turkeys stand amidst the horses
both anxious for the tardy feeder
held up late last night by finances
and put to bed on shining beer
to ill remembered arenas with his wife