Wrightings

  Golden Sunshine landed on a branch today Singing happy songs   Waterville CCC Camp, Washington State 2021

  Amongst the confusion and terror   A small inner self exists   Colorful and vibrant our self, glows From doubt to elation from cornflower to sweet pink A happy child's box of 64 Used and explored

I kept it simple, steady, and true, Dust on my boots, sun burnin’ through, Windows down, wind howling free Movin’ slow, like a midnight sea. Didn’t holler, didn’t raise no fuss When things broke down, I fixed the rust. A fence, a pipe, a friend in need, Got ‘em fixed before the night took speed. Fishin’ with Lir on Laguna’s shore, Waitin’ on the big ones, legends and lore, Talkin’ ‘bout the miles and the weight they bring, Laughin’ loud, letting memories sing. When the wind screamed, I’d set that kite, Cutting sharp through fading light, Like a wild boy chasing the sky, Free as the breeze that’s never shy. The river called; I stepped right in, With cold river grace that cleanses sin. A friendly preacher came to free, Washing me beneath the mesquite tree. Now I’m gone where the wild winds blow, Fish still bitin’, kites still throw Their shadows ‘cross the Corpus coast, Where still waters whisper soft and close. In Memory of Terry McGovern Robinson November 13, 1952 – July 25, 2025

In Memory of Michael Joseph Westergren We released a sea turtle today. It did not hurry. The waves waited. It moved with slow resolve, across sand  that burned underfoot, toward a home  it never stopped carrying inside itself. Not once did it turn back. It breathed the air, as all sea turtles must. Like a promise held  too long, then finally, let go. We watched the tide claim it one breath,  its shape folding into water, as if  it had never been anything else. They say Kemp’s Ridleys nearly disappeared, strangled by nets they couldn’t see, forgotten  by systems they trusted. Still, they returned. Still, they nested. Still, they swam. So did Mike, a man with a heart, opened, twice once by scalpel, once by grief and closed again only after it had poured out everything. He knew the way back: to Corpus, to family, to sand and sky and song. He breathed deeply  when he could, and fiercely when he couldn’t. He wore no armor but a bowtie, spoke plainly, and ju...

  with a good woman’s love he left                     that life behind        and died                     an honorable death in the bedroom                     that was mine

  I was challenged to blow up a condom in Church. demonstrate durability and strength of lambskin not fleece. Look where Pride has brought us from ancient Egypt or Greece, Intestines or bladders tied neatly with a bow, now latex, is generally the way to go, unless you're allergic, then alternatives are there, including vegan if you still care, rubbers save grace while saving the world from the whoops there's a kid or a sex organ burled.   sexual safety a labor of love put on prophylactic balloons