If I were a “serious” poet, I wouldn’t dream of posting this here (to say nothing of actually writing it). My wife, however, believes my “potty poems” are among my finest. (What does that say?) What do you think? She’s demanding a chapbook of these…

20 Jul 2017 – Shed

A lonely wooden shed atop that hill
they call the “Wicked Loaf Extrusion Mill.”

A pilgrim destination, day and night,
a place of peaceful thought – and fearsome fights.

The struggles most men face are faced alone,
and these most men disdain to film by phone.

All thoughtful souls acknowledge this is true:
some squat to greatness, some are there thrust through.