Cuban Steak in Roanoke, VA Crazy shit. But no cigars.
Dab Bern… brilliant song writer.
“Well, I’ll be!”
Astonished was the operative expression
Hands on hips
Elbow akimbo
That was always Granny’s declaration
When her grandkids came to the porch
Hands and pockets stuffed with treasured trash
Rusted horseshoes and broken pottery
We hunter the acres
Hardly a bent nail or cracked bottle escaped
All with the joy of its discovery
And the chagrin of Granny.
WBA 2012
Today is moving day! Doing it by myself.
Virginia is the land of my birth
The home of tired old barns
And bright eyed kids
Running noses and dirty faces
Hot Julys and cold watermelons swallowed
At the base of the ancient pear tree
Tired blue ticks shaking off the wallowing dust
White face steers blink away the flys
Wait quietly for the Fall slaughter
Waiting for the sun to go behind Buck’s. Elbow Mountain
WBA 2012
Betty Lonely lives in a duplex of stucco
on the north bank of a brackish river
Her ears omit the noise from a nearby air strip
her mind floats beyond the snapper boats
Betty Lonely, her green eyes are roughly staring at a point
Through the sliding glass door
her heart lives over a drawbridge
Her brain is wet like a throw net
Betty Lonely, she will always think in Spanish
Though I know her Spanish black hair
it will start to fade
She sunk her past out in the surrounding salt flats
Sher maidenhood was lost beneath the Spanish moss
Betty Lonely just talks to her grand baby
everybody else
She blots them out but her words stick like a flounder Gig
her dry laugh is like a gaff
Vic Chesnutt
Smart Hulk… Much Better
Try this one darling
