two fisherman that didn’t come home

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So i hear last night on the news
two fisherman that didn’t come home
the other night and found both of their bodies
yesterday morning at the mouth
of the detroit river.

That was the day the wind was blowing
out of the south and i didn’t go out.
When are people going to learn, check the weather,
don’t take chances,
the fish aren’t worth it

Real

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I never cared about nothing
so much as I care about REAL.
Not even guitars or chocolate or being
happy. Because sometimes happy is
a lie. And lies don’t feed my soul.
REAL feeds my soul.
Real is messy and unpredictable and
sexy and vulnerable and freeing.
Real drives me on, teaches me,
plays with my longing, stirs my deepest
desires, feeds my soul.

Real feeds my soul. Real feeds
my soul.

pleasant places

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I’m so thankful to say…
I like working as a substitute teacher
I like the students and the staff.
Every day I go
I learn something new.
I enjoy being
a mother,
married to a pastor,
nursery director,
choir member….

The lines have fallen
in pleasant places.

Cupcakes

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Hubby had cupcakes,
fuzzy son wanted cupcakes.
hubby was not going to share,
so fuzzy son was stealing cupcakes
and running around the house to get cupcakes
when hubbies back was turned.

I almost had cupcakes comming
out of my nose

operation

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is it going to hurt grandpa
: yes
how much , this much? [spreads fingers apart]
: this much [spreads his farther]

during operation a crowd of little
neighbor kids gather around,
Kloey crying it hurts,
grandpa has his needle
to pick enough to grab sliver.

little boy from down the street:
you’re making it bleed, I think
you’re making it worse!
: it’ll be fine, boy

it’s bleeding more now, you’re making it worse!

operation down and patient
is turned over to nurse Carrie

reflecting on the roughness

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singing
humanity’s attempt to make contact
with the region of the shapes: maybe
the place where perfect polygons dwell
represents a firmament that can be reached
and we can perfect our forms. Or perhaps,
the basic triangles and rectangles were
the smooth, idealized bodies of angels.
At any rate, I left the opera reflecting
on the roughness of the human body/experience.

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