writer, storyteller, veteran (see BirchBark Editing.com and MaxieJaneFrazier.com for more)
Striving towards making sense of the world
Eleven years ago he woke up a tripod, an amputee, an AmpuTater.
Shhhh. Don’t tell. He hasn’t missed a beat.
Able to conquer three-level cat towers in several bounds,
Still counter surfs at every chance.
He’s best at singing the song of his people, preferably at 4:30 am.
Tater, cat-dog had yet to fail at winning over every “I’m not a cat person” he’s met.
Meet Tater the Terrific. Tater the Best, Tater Tyrant of my Heart.
Happy Sweet Sixteen, Taterbug.
That girl had a dorm room:
Sheets in hospital corners,
Underwear folded, just so,
SAMI meant inspections.
Who knew she would still
Fold underwear, just so?
Make her bed every day?
Even hang her clothes that way?
That the room represented
a way of life
That she followed for twenty-
six more years?
And when she retired,
remnants living in the folds,
she wouldn’t miss it?
One bit?
so much depends
upon
inventing a breakfast
story
fresh from another
world
the white dog (is it cat?)
observing
Some days I’m wishing
Distance can stretch forever.
This moment: peace, health, life.
Put Out to Pasture 