Okie poet society, a poem.

Red Dirt Poetry. By Okie beyond borders Dusty winds whistled about Through the baren leafless trees. The rusty sandpaper sky hung over the horizon like a theater backdrop As if In a John Steinbeck novel. Shuffling and searching in the foreground for whatever meager sustenance there possibly could be Were silhouettes of three searchers. Billy,Continue reading “Okie poet society, a poem.”

Butchy the Chicken Whisperer. Chap 9.

Being a Chicken Whisperer that wears glasses I am often speckling up my lenses. I hate to stop and clean my lenses. It’s troublesome. I have to go inside and hold them under running warm water and moosh in some hand soap. Then rinse them off and dry them off. So to say the leastContinue reading “Butchy the Chicken Whisperer. Chap 9.”

They were like a family pet but laid eggs.

We had a backyard full of chickens.  Dozens and dozens of hens and a few roosters.  All behind our little adobe house in East Los Angeles.  It’s what Okies did in the big city 1952.  So we had eggs.  So we had fried chicken after church on Sunday.  The main beneficiaries from chicken droppings wereContinue reading “They were like a family pet but laid eggs.”