Just my little blurb about women who drink beer out of cans.

A Haiku about my trash can.

A semi-list poem in free verse.

Some mornings are quieter than others, but when you have a kitty living with you, life is never dull. Having two kitties may only mean that you’re a glutton for punishment.

This is the cannery experience which I did for 25 years, till they downsized and I became flotsam. I wrote this on a piece of paper towel at 4:05am, the graveyard shift, while running the seamer, a machine that seals lids on filled cans of product. Mind numbing work, the blue collar dollar.

The time it takes and the surprises you find in cans.

Social-political verse.