Divisive Potatoes
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I grew up in the perfect era (ca 1950's late through '60's) when aliens just seemed like goodness and you could see this goodness on fuzzy black and white TVs upstairs in the guest room while Mom and Dad enjoyed let's say a pleasant highball and a chat. This goodness and this goodness alone (well, with a tiny bit of badness, as with a highball) is what I try to achieve in the poems contained here: lighter than air, crisp and refreshing, salty and snacky, jibberish plus liverish but gravitas-y too with meaning and good cheer and a thought that is not always passing but upon occasion will. (Note...
I grew up in the perfect era (ca 1950's late through '60's) when aliens just seemed like goodness and you could see this goodness on fuzzy black and white TVs upstairs in the guest room while Mom and Dad enjoyed let's say a pleasant highball and a chat. This goodness and this goodness alone (well, with a tiny bit of badness, as with a highball) is what I try to achieve in the poems contained here: lighter than air, crisp and refreshing, salty and snacky, jibberish plus liverish but gravitas-y too with meaning and good cheer and a thought that is not always passing but upon occasion will. (Note: this book is dedicated to the Billboard Top Hundred Songs of 1971: listing included herein. In such a year as this, even #100 is a keeper.)
