Sell your cleverness and buy bewilderment.

–Rumi

Six days without consuming flesh and bones or things in shells or juices found under beaver’s tails.

Arkansas heirloom seeds are being shipped to the doorstep. The garden starts Saturday! (if God’s willin’ and the creek don’t rise…or something like that?)

Feeling all deep south today, thus today’s meditation on sound….

Little Amsterdam
in a southern town
hominy get it on the plate girl
Momma keep your head down
Momma it wasn’t my bullet

don’t take me back to the Range…back to the Range
I’m just comin out of the cell in my brain
’cause girl you got to know these days
which side your on

mmmmmmmmmm. nanananana mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
Momma got shit
she loved a brown man
then she built a bridge in the Sheriff’s bed
she’d do anything to save her man
you see her olives they are cold pressed
and her best friend is a sun dress
but Momma
it wasn’t my bullet
noooooooooooooo

all alone got a girl in the city
hey, got a room and a place for two
got a goat and a phone, I said boy
you are my fifth avenue

round and a round and a round I go
round and a round and a round this time for keeps
round and a round and a round I go
round and a round and a round this time for keeps

Father only you can save my soul
and playing that organ must count
for something
girl you got to know these days

Little Amsterdam
shut down today
they buried her with a
butter bean bouquet
and the Sheriff now can’t ride away
like he said into the sunset
and I wont say
he shouldna paid
but Momma
it wasn’t my bullet

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