TexasBobby

Cool thing about a profile is it says something about you and there are no set rules. So what about me...

I am old enough to know better. I work inside a building that is populated with artificial plants and humans. I find being a worker inside a stone and concrete building with tiny portals in which to allow slivers of light leaves little room for having an active imagination. I am addicted to water. I actually like and understand e.e. cummings, as a matter of fact I would like to watch e.e. make love to a woman. No, I am not a voyeur, I am just curious to see if, at the moment of poetic ecstasy, his friend would scream out, “Oh, ee, that was CAPITAL.” I like bones, they give substance. I am fascinated by the impending doom of reality. I do not wallow in let downs instead I find them profound. I have always wanted to do the “Chicken Dance” but I am too afraid that others would laugh and say I dance like a duck. I wonder if dictators were painters would they use blood while painting sunsets instead of Alizarin Crimson? When I look at the stars at night I can taste ferrous oxide on the back of my tongue. I keep watching out and watching them but I have yet to see anything of much significance. I exist to find that perfect moment where body language speaks louder than words. Even though I keep looking for the perfect moment I often find I have been too early or too late. I feel all poems should be written anonymously.

A few things I like or would like... Summer heat; Slow, long, off the beaten trail road trips; Cupcakes; The smell of dektol; B&W photos; Telling tall tales; Pyramid Lake; Chocolate dipped cones; Smashing Pumpkins circa 1990; Rocky beaches; Easing into a pool on a hundred degree day; Mom and Pop grocery stores, especially ones with glass counters saying, “Do not lean on glass”; Small town Post Offices; Laying on the floor and having the teacher read “The Jungle Book” just before milk and cookies; 100% cotton shirts snapping on a wind blown Texas prairie; Anything Coen; Jeff Bridges; Being called “Dude”; Roaches without any legs; Lying on my back with my feet in the air and having god rub my belly saying, "Who's the good Bob? Who's the good Bob now...?"

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