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I haven't practiced macramé since the early 80's. Someday, this may be a Christmas tree. This took many hours. #familycraftingday

Back Pages Collect words like knick- Knacks, shivering on the last Pages of a notebook. Waiting To come down off the shelf, Out of the storage bin, rise From the cellar - where Each had been deposited. Could I sell you at a White elephant  sale? To                     Young Poets desperate For meaning — clutching At the old clichés  — or Not grasping                      The one of them. Isolated in sleek boxes — Where glaring nothing Rots each hour, Like the crabapples     

Mental Load Invisible torture that rules Each day. Mother must Make things move. Missed Appointments and the other Unacceptables. Who can sleep In all this chaos? Need air Supply space cowboy Junkie cookie snacks and Carbon monoxide. Vacuum Up cat fur and dog — Walk. Wake. Shop. Fill stockings and run them. Who can breath or sit down To read a book or look. Remember breakfast nook Puzzles and how your Nana fed you there.

Death Date 'Cause I didn't think this would happen again No matter what I could do or say Just that I didn't think this would happen again With or without my best intentions   ~Liz Phair WPCR after-hours crooned from the countertop radio. Friends locked in a sound booth transmitting lyrics Straight to us at your fratless party        where he Stood over us so concerned about our Souls. Melting into the sofa or flowing Over and off of it. You kissed me, friend, And I kisse

Wasps How quickly we adjust, For the survival of us. Bought a few more days, Thanks to Climate Change. Terrify her students. Land Upon her wrist. None of us, not even one,             Asked for any of this. How quickly we adapt, As men redraw the maps. Buzz against the bulb,             It is dead and will not burn. Glide graceless onto hands With pens and sharpened tools. Die upon the rug, Still scaring little ghouls.

How Oddly One Falls One morning, we will wake up       Elated at the passing. So little harm at the loss        Of one who has done      ...

ART = AI he says art controls us — moves through us and out — has a “life of its own” — grows like artificial intelligence — but...

MuppetCon has come and gone, so I'm back to traditional kindness rocks.

Muppet cupcakes! Or "mupcakes", if you will. 😁