Thursday, October 20, 2011


the smell of death

hangs in my nose

They say,
This is how farm life goes.
Hard work from dawn to dusk.

I am

now a husk


those things which once filled me
that made me who i thought i was
dancing, art, photography, design, writing

they are cast off

in a box on a shelf

waiting for someday

and i am instead
doing things
i can not talk about
in polite society

elbow deep in birth

and death

a farm
a full-time takes-my-breath no-time-to-stop
hobby farm

no one around

except to say
We knew.
You should have done.

too late

as stacks

of to dos and to reads

tumble into heaps
and bounty turns to compost
and clothes chewed by critters
and flies multiply
unlike our bunnies

and goats.