Luthor Candy is a hundred and eight years old today.
We sit around the campfire in his living room, as he feeds it
A few branches of time.
"My grand father walked off the trail of tears and found a cave
In what would become Jackson county," he packs his pipe.
He takes a long draw before passing it round," They found us.
Eventually, took me off to Jesus school. I didn't speak much
English. They asked me my name. Knew better than to
Give away my name. I said my favorite white word : candy.
Candy sticks to me,".
Luthor takes a pull from the water bottle,
Passes it around the circle saying,
"Careful with the medicine water boys, likely to
Make you live a long time. Collected memories are a heavy thing,
Like all the fry bread ever et. That's a weight not ever'one can bear".
He takes a bite of fry bread. Yeah, he's still got teeth. He passes it 'round.
" Tain't the body of no one, but what I folded in this morning
Its sacred just the same,".
To my eyes Luthor grew soft around the edges
As the sun slipped past evening's shoulder.
Car loads of folks came with food and presents
And to dance in Luthor's yard. We sat the keg
In a rusted out Cadillac cornflower blue faded
By the sun and stray dogs who pissed on it good and reg'lar.
An' I could swear I saw Luthor, with his long thin braid
Bouncing off his ass as he danced around the fire
Growing soft around the edges until he knew
The shadows in the smoke well enough to
Ask for a lift home.
RECIPE FOR POETS
4 cups of humility
2 cups of pride
a dozen doubting eggs
3 teaspoons of self-abasement
1 teaspoon guilt
1 cup fresh humor
Crush pride with humility until it has a pebbled texture in sturdy bowl.
In a separate bowl crack eggs, cautious of fragile shells, fold in ego slowly.
Whip vigorously self-abasement, guilt, humor, then add to eggs and ego
Continue whipping until frothy.
Add frothy blend to pebbled pride and humility.
Form with tablespoon and deposit on tray lubricated with lovolive oil and
a grain of salt.
Bake at 420 until firm and free from shame.
Makes enough for everybody.
God says its alright...
I am alive. That is enough. My Credentials list me as a being.
Gender is not the same as sex. Sex is not the same as love,
but they are often confused. I love you. Now, I've had cock and
cunt equal portions and which one is my favorite? That's really
a matter of taste. I may be queer, I may be straight, I may swing
everyway and know something about taming animals. It is really none
of your business unless you want to kiss me. We all have closets
that we live in. Prisoners of expectation, who just gotta learn
to be, without fear. Ain't that a right? I'm sure there's something
about the pursuit of happiness in that bill of rights. I am in hot
pursuit. I breathe and grieve for any life. We are everywhere. Culture
is shaped by requirements for our living from place to place. The shape
our bodies take does not reveal what is inside, unseen, essence of
self that eternal is. That is the tricky bit however, as since what
is unseen we often mistake as unreal. Well, that's all I gotta say.
No, no blindfold. No, don't wait, shoot me now. Shoot me now.
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