KEN SEES JESUS
Early dawn, back at the firelane.
Misty rain, fog is bluish.
He has a vision of Christ.
Smoking a MARBOLO RED.
The memory stays imbedded,
Like mud on His boots.
Ken thanks God.
For that cold wet morning.
Seeing sweet Jesus blowing smoke rings.
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Ken Flys
Bailing Summer hay
Swallowing pollen, dust, Horseflies
Falling off the loft in the barn
He spreads his fat flannelled arms
Impacting on sweet country dirt
Ken never flys again
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Ken talks about pigs
"Why can't we be like pigs."
"They always smile no matter what the time."
Ken says "We should all be like pigs happy."
The only time their not happy says Ken
"Is when you load them up in the horse trailer."
dedicated to Julie Moulds "Iva"and "DOG" poems She wrote these at Hope College

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