I’m mapping out my April calendar, and that includes some cooking for FarmUp 2017. I’m making Chipotle Corn Chowder for one of the meals, and writing that in my notes made me remember this poem I wrote for one of Maj’s classes. Some seriously clunky lines. Maybe I’ll work on it again. In the meantime… here’s a half-done poem from the summer my marriage fell in the fire. 

Things I learned from the fire

In my other lives
I circled wagons around
stone rings filled with fire
calling soldiers
and sharecroppers
to my hearth 

— what I do, I feed you —

but this last time
I lost focus
and dropped a hand carved
wooden spoon
into the log cabin chasm
that cradled throbbing coals
it slipped from the
Dutch oven edge
pulling a precious taste
of chipotle corn chowder
along with it
and I wondered
did the fire also
enjoy the slow
pepper burn
at the back
of its ever-licking tongue. 

when preparing
a dozen varieties
of hot peppers
to make into flakes
for winter soup
and pizza,

wear gloves
do not
rub your eyes
when caught again
in the wet web
of thinking
as you stand
at the cutting board
knife in hand
how much love
is enough love
to keep us together
how do I not love
you enough
to make you stay
why is your love
sliced into
thicker, sturdier rings 

do not
turn off the dehydrator
then leave it for
five days
while you get lost
in your search
for a new place
to call home

then remember
the brittle rings and seeds
on mesh trays in the
only to find
the autumn air
has somehow
seeped in
they have plumped
and softened
and you will
have to begin
the process

If Kylo was supposed to become darker or more evil, than why is Han’s death emotionally debilitating instead of invigorating.

That would have been the perfect scene to have Kylo go full darksider. He kills Han, his eyes flash yellow, he stops Chewie’s blaster bolt in mid-air, he chases our heroes with full unrestrained fury, attempts to kill Rey and the only thing that keeps him from doing it is the chasm opening up.

^^^^^ that should have happened if you wanted to convince me that Kylo wasn’t going to have a redemption. Instead, we watched Kylo Ren completely unravel. Story wise it doesn’t make sense to me going another route.

More Fool Than Poet

By Bud Koenemund

(Written: March 2017)

For Lindsay

If poetry could amend my visage;
Its rhythm melt away a dozen years,
Allowing prose or rhyme power to bridge
The chasm twixt concupiscence and fear,
I would dedicate my verses for thee;
Endeavouring ever to coax your smile
With little songs proclaiming its beauty –
Confessions composed in a heart beguiled.
But, cursed by time, what words can I bestow
That might defy fortune and win thy kiss?
Lady; you make me more fool than poet;
Courting doom as age mocks my search for bliss.
Oh, Muse; goddess of creativity;
Thy grace shall achieve immortality.

Terminally no chill.

W Alan Palomo of Neon Indian //

Fujifilm Superia 400


Wayne Barlowe’s visions shows a man with a sublime imagination and superior technique, who so vividly described the fiery halls of the underworld, his paintings doesn’t feel like fantastical creations, but actual reconstructions of Hell, and the fierce awe it inspired in a lonely visitor…

you know what I’m fucking sick to death of politicians and pundits saying we as a nation are too divided and need to work together. that everyone is sad when their side loses, and tomorrow we have to pull together. that it is our responsibility to be more open-minded to those with whom we disagree.

it’s a nice thought, but when one side advocates for the violent oppression of the other, reaching across the aisle is meaningless. when one side fears the other because they’re different and one side fears the other because they don’t want to be killed, there is a bigger problem.

so here’s a different message: you don’t have to be kind to people who want you dead. you don’t have to pull together with those who hate you. you are not responsible for the government’s inability to function. when someone hates your entire being, the bedrock of what you are and what you stand for, when someone is so frightened of your inner light they want to snuff you out you do not have to be kind to them.