farming words

cows, beef, cattle, beets, strawbs and rhubarb pies baking

refurbished old oven cost more than my truck

boots i love cowgirls’

boots i love myself

why should i give you my words for free

when you could buy the book

is that what you are really doing, farming?

down on the ranch, i prefer it Santa Barbara style

grape growing wines old

vines and grafting and honey-dripping slow

goats, too, for fromage avec herbs de provence

farmhouse quaintly dilapidating under the tuscan sun

i prefer champagne, foxy bubbles are best

tiny bubbles remind me of dad


it seems all they talk about is how to disagree, and what we disagree on

no more for me i want to talk about what we agree on

happy words feel deep inside words

emotions some good some just dialogue


like that scene from sideways where curly blonde doesn’t properly emote, sappy only and not really drunk on good wine. Real people don’t say those words that way; i mean i may’ve said those verbatim, but i’d be smirking or loathing, then cuddling and laughing.


I don’t mean to offend any one gentleman, or his perspective, but disagreeing is almost all i hear these days and i want to agree on what we can all enjoy. I know, I don’t really get the whole train of thought thing either, particularly yours, and all these folks say how they love the logic is more like my husbands disagreements, uhg.


“fuck, fuck, fuck!” my 7-year old screamed as she wiped the farmhouse table clean of her Candy Land game. Yes, she gets it from her mother, I fear, thought his mom with her accent.


I don’t want to talk about farming words now, instead the beach i will go walk, feel, write, know the words my father taught me as his ashes crash at my feet. I wonder, how do they say “fuck” on the farm? “mate, mate, mate!?” just dumb.


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