Open Letter to Oklahoma Voters and Lawmakers

Important words here. Scary words. Truthful words. Read more at stevenewedel.wordpress.com.

Steven E. Wedel's avatarSteven E. Wedel

I am a teacher. I teach English at the high school of an independent district within Oklahoma City. I love my job. I love your kids. I call them my kids. I keep blankets in my room for when they’re cold. I feed them peanut butter crackers, beef jerky, or Pop Tarts when Michelle Obama’s school breakfast or lunch isn’t enough to fill their bellies. I comfort them when they cry and I praise them when they do well and always I try to make them believe that they are somebody with unlimited potential no matter what they go home to when they leave me.

What do they go home to? Sometimes when they get sick at school they can’t go home because you and the person you’re currently shacking up with are too stoned to figure out it’s your phone ringing. Sometimes they go home to parents who don’t…

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Travels

life on the road
long miles broken
up by convenience
store stops and
fast food meals
mile after mile
of asphalt and
cellophane wrappers
bottled water
and countless
bathroom breaks
every wendy’s
looks the same
silly little
pigtailed girl.

  

Big Day

What a wonderful day for something new! I spent last night with my son Jason and my daughter-in-law, Liz, at their home in Dallas. The three of us ate dinner at a great little restaurant, Goodfriend Burger and Brewhouse,

  
where I enjoyed a Barbecue Grilled Cheese. Oh my! Think of perfectly cooked brisket between cheesy goodness on grilled bread. It was the sandwich to top all sandwiches.

My son and I then went to a late showing of Deadpool where I laughed way more than perhaps a woman my age should have. For those of you who haven’t heard of the film, Deadpool is a fun,  irreverent look at the world of super heroes. 

This morning I waited for morning rush traffic to taper off before heading to Houston where I spent a couple of interesting hours getting a beautiful tattoo:

  
I don’t know about you, but I think my nephew, Russell Bagwell, did an absolutely beautiful job bringing my glimmer of an idea to life. His shop, Royal Avenue Tattoo and Piercing is the place to add a little (or a lot of) ink. The whole procedure was relatively pain free, and I love the results.

After my tattoo I headed to my brother’s home in Houston and had a relaxing evening with him and his wife. We ate at the amazing restaurant, Coltivare. 

  
I should probably forgo food for the next two weeks. But I won’t. 

Tomorrow evening is going to be spent at a rodeo and concert. Someone should pinch me. This is all too cool. Right now, though, I’m heading to bed. All this excitement has worn me out.

Peace, people!
 

I Told You So

The drapes are closed, no light shines through,

Darkness exceeds expectations.

Lovers find their way by feel, stubbed toes not withstanding.

Stifled giggles, shedding of clothes, stumbling drunk in anticipation,

Oh there you are! A touch, a taste, bodies all aquiver,

Hesitate on the precipice. Pull away, fall into, immerse, succumb.

Oh mercy!

Artizan3.tumblr.com

Peace, people.

Ikebana

Lovely piece by Robert Okaji. Read more at robertokaji.com.

robert okaji's avatarO at the Edges

leaf on stone

Ikebana (You without You)

Between frames, between presence and negation, authority.

If your body lies in the earth, why are you here?

Limits admired and sought: the way of the flower.

I pluck leaves from the lower half to achieve balance.

Shape and line detach, yet comprise the whole.

My father, awake in his chair, mourns quietly.

A naked twig forms one point of the scalene triangle.

Starkness implies silence, resonates depth.

Heaven, earth, man, sun and moon invoke your absence.

As you trickle through the interval’s night.

* * *

Ikebana is the art of Japanese flower arrangement.

chair

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Stopping in Claude

We once lived in this double wide trailer situated on a county road in Claude, Texas, back in the really bad old days.

  
This morning I made a detour on my route between Saint Helen’s home in Hereford, TX, to my son’s home in Dallas to see if it was still there.

It is. I’m not. Life IS good.

Peace, people!

How Do You Know

how do you know you are loved
when the words aren’t spoken
and the old ways no longer
offer themselves as proof?
longevity should count
for something, right?
but emptiness fills
the bitter whole,
dried and empty,
aggravatingly
withdrawn
and, oh
so very
cold.

Who I Admire

Better than an Academy Award. Read more at redswrap.wordpress.com.

Jan Wilberg's avatarRed's Wrap

Man of the Year, Most Influential Woman, the 10 Best Dressed, the 100 Richest People – there’s no shortage of reference guides for who to admire. There are a lot of accomplished people out there. Our little town is full of them. We go to big dinners and the admirable people get Trailblazer Awards or Volunteer of the Year Awards; we listen to speeches, applaud and go home. It’s all good. But I’m not really impressed by all that. It leaves me flat, doesn’t speak to my life.

Here are the people I admire:

* People who understand the phrase ‘there but for fortune go you or I.”

* People who say they were wrong and they say it in front of a lot of people.

* Folks who have been publicly humiliated by their own actions or the actions of others who keep their shit together and come back…

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His Songs

he plays a little club on tuesday nights, a seedy little place off main

the voice, still strong after all this time; yet he never did sell his name.

his songs, sad and sweet, sift through my soul transcending time and tomb

my lonely heart answers the way it knows best; i feel i must call home.

invoking the loss of my family, of my false securities

his songs call out my every conceit and bring me to my knees.

home will you take me back? i’m so damned tired of this road

i thought, oh i thought i could make it, until i heard his songs.