The vials ate the air
Yet no one seems to care
Blue turns a milky white
Still no one’s in the fight
Beneath the growing shroud
Neutered in the crowd
Or scattered cross the plain
Citizens eat their cane
They go about their day
And look the other way
They more than anything
Grab at that brass ring
Until they’ve Got It Made
Then resting in the shade
Drinking from viaduct
Don’t want to know their fucked


Done Again

It’s been eight semis since I last checked in. The wagons are all holding corn. Only one’s not running over full. But I’m done. Full Harvest. A regular cornucopia. I finished cutting corn in the dark last night. It’s been a good fight. Dancing around the big wet spot that was thawing out over the mountain from Snake Grass Bottom on the farm north of town. Right along the highway. Right out in front of God and everybody. Fitting I guess as it seems lately that everything I do is in the dark. Under the lights. Under the Moon. And I’m a day kind of guy. That may be because there’s more darkness than light (not counting the moon) this time of year and I still have a full day’s work to get done. There’s less light each day. More star time each night. Nocturnality. For another three weeks or so. Then it’ll be going in the right direction. Again.

I hope your having a happy St. Andrew’s Day.



The Rest Of The (Full) Story

Loaded two semi loads of corn to go to Bartlet today. It’s going on my Oct/Nov contract. I tried to combine but after grinding out less than two hoppers having a lot of trouble with the slip clutch on row number five I quit when the truck came back to load the second time. I would have had enough to load both semi loads but I had to try it. A brisk north wind wasn’t drying or freezing fast enough after last nights light snow. Everything’s empty but what I’d ground out today. Better fortune tomorrow. It’ll be something else to be thankful for. I think I’m going to build a fire and rest.

So the rest of the full story is we are no longer full in the wagons department. Even the one with some on it isn’t quite full. Room to run when it gets fit. So far everything’s still going in the right direction no matter what the distance. I have about fifty acres left. Forward Ho! (Did he say whoa?)



The Full Story

Not the last farmer. I get to drive by three other farmers not done harvesting corn on the way up to my last farm to harvest. One of them don’t have their own combine and the other two run green ones, one an old 6620 about the same age as mine, the other runs two new ones with wide heads dumping into a grain cart and semis.  It may not change things but misery loves company. Hey, we could start a company and …….

The bin’s full on the last farm, I had a couple good days running. The wagons are likewise full. As is Gary, my dream machine combine from up by Sioux City. It has performed flawlessly since I changed out the electric fuel pump. By ten o’clock last night I was heading home to rest the rest. The night before I had run late filling up the wagons I had dumped right before sunset. Last night I finished dumping what would fit in the bin after dark. I was wandering around the field driving my old 856 pulling wagons using only a flashlight for light. I’m glad that went well considering the terraces.

That’s the full story from here in the corn patch, I hope all is well with you and yours where ever you and yours have come a shores. If I don’t see ya before then, have a happy thanksgiving. I know I will.

See ya then, see ya there.



Last Farm

Last Farmer too. Or so it seems. Until you get out and drive. There’s cornfields out there that haven’t been touched yet. Whole farm size fields like mine. Ah but as of sundown tonight mine’s been touched. More than touched. Down right violated. Penetrated to the core. Opened right up.

I see it’s after midnight. A drizzle came up as I was cutting my last hopper. The wagons are all full. The first time in a long time. One is full sitting on the farm I just finished.  I was thinking of dumping it in the bin and running the wagon to the last farm and refilling it there. Then the drizzle started. The fog had moved in right after sunset. It had only just left at noon.

It’s late and I’m tired. I wanted to call last farm though.

Then, there