Commentary: Sammi’s Weekender #204 (forage)

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When words like shit and fuck are used, it’s often to express emotion. Meanings of excrement and fornication are less often intended. Both can be vulgarities, obscenities, or profanities, depending on context and who sees or hears it: lawyers, religious people, or your mother.

Shit results from forage, which leads to eating, thus pooping. People who study shit (“excrement examined experimentally”) are called scatologists, although scatology also refers to literature, or they’re called scientists who work in fimo, after the Latin fimus.


Look both ways and watch where you step.
Mind the gaps or you may ruin someone’s idea of a scientific experiment.

Not my poem, but an oldie I recall from boyhood days.

Sammi’s weekender #203 (absurd)

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Today Yolonda declined
a rejoin invite from ladies of the day,
because the absurd notice said,
“and no damn masks” is as close
to a dis as she is willing to concede.

My writer’s guild also discussed
timing and protocols for safe rejoins
at face-to-face meetings after
we’ve all had our shots. It’s complicated.
But no one even mentioned wearing masks.


Look both ways for both wise choices and illogical tropes.
Mind the gaps as the CDC warns of yet to come.

Sammi’s Weekender #202 (yonder)

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Book Up

Perhaps the most prolific
“Minor Regional Novelist,”
memoirist, and
cowboy de-mythologist
has told his final truth
and attended his last picture show,
over yonder,
in Archer City, Texas.

Two days ago, that
gringo who told the
truth about
drug-store cowboys,
closed up shop.


Look both ways as you measure success,
especially of vanishing breeds.
Mind the gaps wherein hidden depression lasts for years.


Larry McMurtry, a prolific novelist and screenwriter who demythologized the American West with his unromantic depictions of life on the 19th-century frontier and in contemporary small-town Texas, died on Thursday at home in Archer City, Texas. He was 84.

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Sammi’s Weekender #201 (orbit)


Moon’s Grace

What about the moon?
I see it and can feel something
unlike the Sun or stars.

Mona, Selene, Luna, or Mwezi,
a nameless orb.
The Moon is

Waxing, waning, or full;
in orbit, playing with tides, waking
creatures of the night,
inspiring music and stories,
the moon relates to us.


Look both ways.
It is the same moon it’s always been and always will be.
Mind the gaps when it’s new and dark as night.

Sammi’s Weekender #198 (kitsch)

 

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What’s Cool?

Is kitsch quality or poor taste?
Are minimalists monotonous?
Are sandal’s socks courageous?

Do pink Flamingos
promulgate plastic?

Is Bahama Mama racist?
Are Brazilian Beauties sexist?
Is bland better than spice?
Is culture copy complimentary?

No fuzzy dice on mirrors,
but the green turtle on my dash
and a little yellow rubber duckie love me,
without some good god’s crucifix
or prayer beads.
I admit. I’m a bit kitschy.


Look both ways with taste and preference.
Human nature dictates, human nurture personificates.
Mind the gaps between and among us.

Sammi’s Weekender #196 (possess)

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Half of One

Her possession complete,
their synergistic power became
magic greater than ever.


Look both ways because life is short and comes with a price.
Mind the gaps for inspiration and answers.

(I have no idea if she is the possessor or the possessed. I was thinking the former, but the latter works too.)


 

Sammi’s Weekender #195 (gargantuan)


Small Heart; Big Deal

Sometimes, size matters. It seems sensible,
big things are to do big jobs. But not always.

Our most important parts are brains, hearts, lungs, livers, and stomachs.
In that order. Everything matters but size.

The most impressive of these is the heart.
Small, weighing less than a pound, it does gargantuan work.

Pounding up to 25 quarts of blood each minute every day at 70 beats a minute,
one-hundred thousand times per day. Three billion in a lifetime.

The size of my fist, our hearts, yours, and mine,
have been heralded through history, physically and emotionally.


Look both ways in chambers and valves.
Feel and hear as the beat goes on. Mind the gaps on the EKG.

Sammi’s Weekender #194 (beguile)

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Delusion of Truth

Were they so deeply deceived?
Is companionship enough?

She was beguiled by deception, he by
love and trust, they by knowing.

Truth was given freely, and the cost
was death, maybe. How simple.

The book deceived me, tempted
by eternal heavenly bliss,

Dishonored by knowing morality.
Then I read the book.


Look both ways.
Doubt lies, believe truth.
Mind gaps for deception.

Sammi’s Weekender #193 (faction)

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My Factitious Fog

Galère thoughts compete with factional voices
as divides within my indeterminate mind sway opinion, always—
competing thoughts contending for favor,
seeking confederates with logical knowledge,
either knowing or not knowing.
What difference does it make?

I’m haunted by TMI.


Look both ways and mind the gaps for tricks and trips,
or steppingstones,
but don’t expect it to be easy.