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Poems where nothing happens at all.


What good is weeping
While turtles still crawl
Through the tall, wet grass?

What good is sorrow
When love still grows
In every fresh smile?

Poems where far too much happens.

Poems where nothing happens at all.

I’m just an old man with a pencil and paper 

Waiting for the coffee to brew. -Jobe

“That Mississippi sound, that Delta sound is in them old records. You can hear it all the way through.”
-Muddy Waters

“Your mind is on vacation and your mouth is working overtime.”
-Buddy Guy

"I don't think about time. You're here when you're here. I think about today, staying in tune."
-John Lee Hooker

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An Agony. As Now.I am inside someonewho hates me. I lookout from his eyes. Smellwhat fouled tunes come into his breath. Love hiswretched women.Slits in the metal, for sun. Wheremy eyes sit turning, at the cool airthe glance of light, or hard fleshrubbed against me, a woman, a man,without shadow, or voice, or meaning. This is the enclosure (flesh,where innocence is a weapon. Anabstraction. …