Wednesday, October 18, 2017

Ready for some poetry? Midnight Walk - Tarragon Abuse - Aunt Sylvie and Uncle Maury

A couple of Facebook poems


My house has neither a track
nor swimming pool, the
stationery bike is

So what's a girl to do
when she wants to relax
after doing some
heavy thinking

Out into the neighborhood
I go. No one's about.
Feels good to stretch
my scrunched up
writers' legs
as I briskly pass
the darkened houses

Should I round the bend
and take the difficult hill?
I don't know but my legs
won't stop.

What if a coyote approaches?
Ken Ivins said he saw one.
Or a kidnapper, a Richard Widmark
type, as seen in Kiss of Death?

Every house is dark. Closed up.
No use in screaming.
Consider me dead.


also known as
Product Code 0 523531

I use tarragon
in my soups and
on my morning eggs

I even got Rem Murphy
to use it, and he's
a tough guy in his
Philly's cap and
fine postal clerk manners

Is it my imagination or
is the beautiful word
"tarragon" - say it slowly
and dramatically with the
lovely "Tuh" in the lead

becoming popular all around
the country? Tarragon Community College
Tarragon Consolidation of Loans
Tarragon School of Dog Training
Tarragon Bar and Grille

And now, if you'll excuse me
gonna drive over to the
Bar and Grille and see if
I can catch some action there.

But if they've got a big screen
and are watching the news, I'm gone.

Will go home and make some mushroom
soup flavored with the licorice-tasting
oh-so-tangy Tarragon and savor it
a small sip at a time.

What? You don't like it? What dyou
know anyway?


Am reading a remarkable book called AUTUMN

Just read the review of this book and previous books he had done which caused a sensation in Norway.

Karl Ove Knausgaard

Before I read the back story on him, I was enjoying the short chapters with titles like Teeth, Frogs, Petrol and Porpoises. The next one is called Piss.

He makes you think about things like never before.

Born 1968 in Oslo, so he's 48.

Lemme write a quick poem now. But what shall it be about?


Who might these people be?
Mom has given me a B&W
photo which lies on the couch.
Once they were my kin.
They lived in Daytona Beach
and swam with the waves
loved in their bed
and cuddled before
Ozzie and Harriet.

He died first, as men often do,
she lived on, devastated for a
while, I imagine hearing her
weep while looking at her
garden out the window, but
then another man came along.

Many wealthy people live in
Florida and this widower,
Nat, was one of them. They
fell in love and for the
first time in her life
Aunt Sylvie had funds.

What did she do with them?
She divvied them up among
her family and bought us
stocks and bonds.

Nat passed away and Aunt Sylvie
moved into a nursing home. My
mom flew down to visit. Very
few people remember Sylvie
or Maury or Nat.

What happens to their bones?

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