No Exit For The Wicked

RDP Sunday —EXIT

Photo by cottonbro on

There are so many ways to say goodbye,

to say I never want to see you again

to slam a door and shut

with so much force the frame cracks


There are so many ways

to scream a curse

utter a prayer

with a smile and little wink


There are so many ways

to be brutal and coarse

mean and vindictive

choose one, choose them all


it doesn’t matter anymore

you are now and forever shall be

trapped in that empty room

inside of your skull.



On The Nose

Putting My Feet In Dirt September Prompt#12 Genuine Genius

Photo A.M. Moscoso

When Hamish runs across something that has startled him or confuses him, he sits and looks at my chin. Its part of his training, when I want his attention I point to my chin and say “look”.
He did this several times on our walk Saturday morning.
I think the smoke is affecting  the scents he normally picks up on and it is causing  a drastic enough of a change to cause him some sort of distress or confusion and by coming forward and ‘looking’ he was waiting for me to give him a command to help him navigate this ‘new ‘ situation.
In the last couple of years when when we had fires and smoke coming in and it was this heavy  we didn’t walk, we went to our dog park so maybe that’s why  I didn’t notice this behavior.
Today I read that the smoke coming in contains ‘tar’ from wood that’s not completely burned. From what I learned this toxic smoke cloud is historically  bad and maybe that’s what Hamish was reacting to and the fact that during the past fires and  the ensuing smoke we just went out back and hung around in the park had nothing to do with it.
Our walks this weekend our now considerably shortened to potty breaks.
Good Boi Hamish! Your Mom believes you are a genuine genius!

Photographer Unknown

The Bristlecone’s Home

RDP Thursday – BRISTLE

Photographer Unknown


There are three trees on our property line

twisted and scarred by harsh winds and time

they fought to take root in the poorest of soil

under the cruelest of conditions they managed to grow

where nothing else does

out  back


but standing alone

on a patch of uncared for land,  you could call it our home.




For Info on the Bristlecone Trees go HERE.

Kissing in Kamacha

Putting My Feet in the Dirt September Writing Prompt: #1 Kissing in Kamacha

Photographer Unknown

Kiss me on Poe’s Plutonian Shore

kiss me at the end of the world

kiss me when the bell tolls for thee

kiss me under the harvest moon before the Werewolf bites

but don’t kiss me in Kamacha

where the Sun can set you on fire

and the wind grinds the strongest stone to dust

leaving us  lost to the sleeping

never to be dreamt by anyone





Sweetness In Despair

Dressed in white


vicious, merciless


butcher their prey by day

leaving their victims

drained of life, colorless, no sweetness

to make you cry out in joy, to dazzle your eye or dance upon your tongue

their embalmed victims look alive

but they never really were

Sad Raw Cakes

untouched, unloved on bone china plates.


Putting My Feet In The Dirt August Prompt#18- Raw Cake Realities

The Fitch’s Farmhouse

Putting My Feet In The Dirt August Writing Prompt#17: Shadow Monsters

Photo by eberhard grossgasteiger on

Bleached  bones

asleep in a field

a tangle of weeds have buried  the dirt road  nothing grows out  here anymore.


Weathered boards, rusty nails-

The Fitch House looks out to the west with

eyeless window frames

broken furniture in the living room, unmade beds waiting for fresh linen in the bedrooms upstairs

a clock grandfather clock comes to life when it rains

the basement door is locked and the key is buried

in the garden where Mrs. Fitch used to grow tomatoes and borage.


Trees out front

a creek out back

where the shadow monsters drink

when they are thirsty and they think they are alone and no one is watching them

from the Fitch’s Farmhouse and their  field full of bleached  and sleeping bones.