1 min read

I Don’t Blog, or Post, I Ghost & Gallop Away.

An audition for an about page or a too long sidebar

In a comment, a missive, that I can count on being missed.

It’s not my intend to be impolite, or impolitic, or crude, rude
or rowdy.

Just pickin’ up my drink to move to the other end of the Bar.

You be the czar of your site. I’m choosing not to sit a spell, and swell
with all the back patting and collective crowing that crowd sourced 
comfortability eventually bankrupts…given any reasonable rate of exchange.

See…you see me…speaking about you, when it’s the whole
of the game of bandying…
I’m baying about.

Because I’m a pour mouth poet drunk on Michael Oakeshott’s realization…

You Can’t Practice Poetry.

But hold 1.
A bit more.
You Cant?

you best….
Practice Poetry.


I’m spry yet retired. I reside in the inner city of a major metropolitan area of the United States. I read politics. I watch baseball. I hum along with the tune. I June swoon, and moon the bad poem. Post here, are old and new. Opinions are my very own, except when wrong.

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