A Book of Poetry
for dust thou art, and unto dust thou shalt return
When on the farm you learn to live with and tolerate dust: from the fields, the roads, blown in the air from afar, and death.
Dust on the horizon
appeared in the heat's mirage
Grandpa, the only one looking said,
never there 'less something's happening.
Watch for Clara May and Frieda as they bring you those naughty men of the square
Cows Pee Where They're Standing
Have you ever seen a cow piss or take a dump? It sprays everywhere. No way am I sleeping at her butt or any cow’s butt.