Children everywhere
(and a few adults) gave up
on sleep for tricks, treats.

• • •

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He would take the page
and transform it into a
symphony of speech.

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What if all of the
hypochondriacs are right
and placebos kill?

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A strip mall can go
practically anywhere with
the right greased pockets.

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The weeds had free reign
till the suburban posse
got them evicted.

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They would reveal their
disorders and bank accounts
to faux confidantes.

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The morning started
with hot coffee, warm muffins
and birds flying south.

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What is the correct
emoji for “indifferent
with a side of guile”?

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The last chocolate chip.
The text message saying yes.
The sun settling down.

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Her magnetic smile
kept me going through the lulls
and hiccups. Thank you.

• • •

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What they have, we want.
What they struggle with, we mock.
What they do, we shun.

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He declared his love
in a beautiful text that
was stuck in the cloud.

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A nation forged by
exhaustion, expectations
and excesses. (Yawn!)

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Birmingham, July 2014
Photo: Wally Argus (CC)

Nine years ago, I
started blogging every day
on this very site.

I serve as a scribe,
reporter, commentator,
blogger and poet.

Birmingham is my
muse, an endless source of great
hope and frustration.

The secret is out,
as travelers flock to our
bistros and taprooms.

Underneath, the schools
continue their decay, in
foundation, in minds.

Room enough here for
hipsters to congregate and
leaders to plunder.

The good intentions
are not enough to wipe out
the lingering stench.

What will become of
our home, our community
and our livelihoods?

Birmingham’s motto:
“The people are the city.”
A blessing and curse.

• • •

First, second, third, fourth and fifth and eighth anniversary posts.

Sloss Furnaces, July 2014
Photo: Shannon (CC)

How lovely are the
simple sweets of our youth when
shared over some tea?

• • •

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