Backyard B-17 and 450 bucks
The back yard clean up operation creeps it's unsteady pace and a B-17 flies overhead.
450 bucks for a 20 minute ride.
Notice the gong on the right.
Notice the chipper covered in a white tarp.
That chipper may get some workout this afternoon.
Sharp eyed viewers may notice the disappearance of one more pile.
posted by Lane Savant at 12:34 PM
11 Comments:
I know, I know, you love to present the butcherboy a challenge first thing in the morning. First glance at your posting brought the compulsory smile, followed by a chuckle low in the throat--but where was the verse? I looked and looked. Then I copied it and pasted it over on FFTR. I looked at it some more, the words, the imagery, the subtext, the no-text, the ubertext--and then it came to me, yes, yes, the poem is there. I realized it was Twit-ku 2.5. Found a great pic to accompany it too.
Initially looking at your title, I thought maybe you were going to explicate about your former comment regarding the money you are waiting for; but no, you slipped in new data, went off in a new direction, as is your purvue and style.
Had some fun with Chuck Heston trying to pull the gun from his cold dead hands over on FFTR. Did you dig it? Did you also dig the paean to Lesbonic poetry that I picked up on over on Bobby Byrd's blog? Eileen Myles is good, and right out there, up front, in your face, or perhaps just my face.
Melva has come down with some virus or other, probably picked up from one of her students. I am giving her wide berth for I have to enter the surgery suite a week from tomorrow as healthy as a 65 year old fat man can, don't you know?
Jannie gave a fling of her bra to you on her comment to Twit-ku Lives! She has always been a Lane Savant groupie. I had to struggle from being 86'ed from Funsterland. For a moment I thought we had morphned back to high school.
Joy Harjo created a Twit-ku without realizing it, but I posted it regardless. I still haunt her blog hoping for some poetic droppings and sailings and launches.
Glenn
How often do you bang your gong, big boy?
..........Tiny Tim
I don git it! Palmer creates poems unconsciously, and da rest of dem dudes haff to work der butts off to create some lines of interest. Can anyone splain dat?
............Vinnie
The answer is simple, Vin. What emerges from Doug's prose is a collaborative verse. Glenn knows him so well after 50 years that he finds the between the lines, the between the convolusions poetics. It takes both of them to make it happen.
................Emily
You can't tell me, Douglas, that you have never dropped into a local gay bar just out of curiousity? I did not mean to imply that you would ever "hang out" at a gay bar. My God, if you did you would realize that yes, it pays to advertise.
.........Elton's John
Do you think it's right that after my last concert sold out, the media refuses to give me positive press? I think it sucks.
...........Mikel Jack'son
Is your Redwing habitat a manor, a hacienda, or a hogan? i might want to stay there for a weekend. Is it a B&B?
........Thomas Builds Afire
^Hallo, Lane!
The gong is on the LEFT side of the photo as displayed in your blog.
Why not display the chipper uncovered, so we, who have never seen one, know what the beast looks like, so we can avoid it when it comes to menace us??
From Glenn's comment, I might gather Jannie F. was a classmate of the two of you. Is that true??
The LL sends regards to y'all, as usual. We use our compost heap as the "chipper" in her garden for this sticks; bigger ones go to her sons for their fireplaces.
Tschüß,
Anonomann (+ LL)
Actually Anonomann, Jannie is a new "cyber" friend. My comment refers to all the trouble Doug used to get me in during high school. He would drink, or act out, and I was the one who got his ass in the sling. Became a thing so often after a while we found the humor in it. Like one time we went to the Spanish Castle to see a band. Doug was shit-faced, and they threw me out for bringing him in, and let him watch the band. Go figure.
Glenn
Left side, right side, I'm just not that interested in fake political distinctions.
Hey, I remember you guys. I didn't care if you were drunk.
The skinny guy slipped me a sawbuck.
......Joe Bouncer
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