china lands are office pockets

private lands are NAAM

I Am My Father

good times I remember. Fishing among the mosquitoes swimming at Moose Bay

I Am in the Pain

life and beyond

Steps on High

from my window perch clouds create cotton balls of misshapen puffs sprinkled across the sky

Psyche

Ways of earth are life

Spring not Sprung

A seemingly somnolent sun seems unable to burn off the morning mist leaving the afternoon looking listless while cool brisk breezes reminds us winter has not yet waned.

Memories are made of this

When kindness slipped away “Hi, Esther.” It was Uncle Amos who was quick in mind, but with no dress sense at all. It was said his underpants were fixed together by safety-pins.

Memories are made of these

Being blind didn’t make you nice

Memories

Nothing funny about this

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