Similar Posts
“First Words,” by Daniel Holland
If I write about cavemen, do I need to go to a library? Or can I just say the caveman’s first two words? Fire. Wheel.
Don’t Box Me In–Medica/ta/tion Blues–by Daniel Holland
I was in my boxers enjoying my box turtle while eating my box lunch before the big boxing match on TV. But there was this old TV show “Let’s Make a Deal” and I wanted to know what was in box number 1. Imagine somebody took away the computers, pens and pencils. The only writing…
“Time Bottle,” a poem by Daniel Holland
I put my mind in a time bottle. Watch the particles of brain matter funnel down the sand trap called Time.
“Cleaning House,” by Daniel Holland
VACUUM SUCKS You know those little things in the carpet that try to hide? When you vacuum “hide and seek” becomes “hide and suck.” If you have a cheap vacuum, vacuuming becomes a hockey game. The goalie is under the mat. The cheaper the vacuum, the bigger the mat. As a kid I used to…
“Snow Story Lies,” by Daniel Holland
I always lie when I tell snow stories. You say you walked to school as a kid in two feet of snow. I say I walked in three feet of snow. Not only that–it was 20 degrees below zero. There were no bathrooms in sight, a lot of people around. I was pee-shy.
“Measuring Life,” thoughts by Daniel Holland
How to Measure Life is measured by a watch and a ruler. By the way, what time is it?
Daniel, you are gardener…through and through…tied to the land, so close to it, so friendly with the grit of the earth…working with the soil and not afraid to be soiled by it.
not only do I feel grit
I taste it through my nose and
see it with my hands
touching the earth along side you
a gardner too, someday