I've loved your work for over twenty years. I used much of your work in my twenty plus years as a public high school teachr, especially one of your one page masterpieces - Scalpdance in both my creative writing , American lit And Brit lit ( using it with 1984). If you send me your email I will send you a copy of my first book o fpoetry. I'm78.
Some of the elders here were from families of 16-18 kids. Hand me down shoes if they were lucky. Otherwise bare feet. All over the country the poor farming kids told the same story: up at 4am to get the cows in. Put your cold bare feet into a series of fresh steaming " cowpats" (manure) to warm up. Do the milking. Run to school and join the queue at the hose off before you entered the classroom.
We were latch key kids. Two girls, four boys. My father, the sheriff’s deputy, left us alone with confiscated contraband. My male cousins would light illegal firecrackers under my butt while I squatted to light my stolen loot. What a hoot! We raided other evidence too.
I've loved your work for over twenty years. I used much of your work in my twenty plus years as a public high school teachr, especially one of your one page masterpieces - Scalpdance in both my creative writing , American lit And Brit lit ( using it with 1984). If you send me your email I will send you a copy of my first book o fpoetry. I'm78.
Gorgeous imagery
Thank you!
sharp as an icepick. and I gotta hand it to you, bare none.
KEEEP GOING WITH YOUR GLOWING
Thank you, Ernie.
Sounds like we were neighbors.
Brilliantly conveyed
Thank you, Larry.
This is so evocative…lovely…
Thank you, Theresa.
❣️🫶🏼❣️
Thank you.
Enjoyed the poem, Sherman. Thanks!
Some of the elders here were from families of 16-18 kids. Hand me down shoes if they were lucky. Otherwise bare feet. All over the country the poor farming kids told the same story: up at 4am to get the cows in. Put your cold bare feet into a series of fresh steaming " cowpats" (manure) to warm up. Do the milking. Run to school and join the queue at the hose off before you entered the classroom.
Ae, they built them tough back in the day!
In high school, there were farm boys who'd come to school in their work boots and shower in the locker room.
We were latch key kids. Two girls, four boys. My father, the sheriff’s deputy, left us alone with confiscated contraband. My male cousins would light illegal firecrackers under my butt while I squatted to light my stolen loot. What a hoot! We raided other evidence too.
Hahahahaha!
And what about the summers?
I've got rez boy poems for all seasons!
I feel it in my body. Thank you. Love the line 'we punched our legs/to warm the blood.' Strong image.
Thank you, Christine.
So poignant, more so because this is still the reality for so many. Beautiful imagery.
Thank you!
I worked in construction for many years, I was younger
one job on Nantucket Island, north shore, on the water
it was very cold, with a lot of moisture in the air, wind driven cold
from every direction
seven layers of clothing starting with silk
I remember when my feet were numb and suddenly there would be a rush of warm blood to my toes
That brutal cold!
Powerful -- especially the last line.
Thank you!
Sherman, this is lovely!
Thank you, Laura!
Beautiful.
Thank you, Deborah. So happy you’re here. Shutterbabe was such an intense adventurous book!
Thank YOU! Glad to find you and your work here.