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As a father, husband, teacher, coach, man, writer, jack Lutheran, late-mid-life-elder, ne'er do well, and espresso addict I find myself tethered to more responsibility, commitment, and distraction than, as a younger man, I thought I would carry. So I write this wonderfully encumbered surprise of a life that I have been given. I see grace and I see atrocity; I respond writing odes to what I love and rants against what I abhor. If I lived in a cave I would paint these on the wall.
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2015
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September
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- The Joke That Isn't Funny Anymore (Note to Self (W...
- King Snake, Blood Moon, Escapism (A Fall Meditation)
- What the Office Says
- Inner A**hole
- The Older I Git, the Better My Kit
- That Desert Rat in September Feeling
- Impermanence (A Meditation)
- Bars. They's Bars in Them Woods
- Ode to the Chapel
- Wrench in the Works Not Always Regressive
- Sneakers, Safety Pins, and the Inescapeable Realit...
- Party Time
- My Pathway to Fame, Wealth, and Irresistibility to...
- Connections
- The Surface of Things
- Letter to the Bear On His Late Life Homecoming Fro...
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September
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About Me
- Erec Toso
- Poems and narrative essays function in ways other kinds of writing cannot. They are living things that raise the heart rate while raising questions. Not all delight, but most can kick. I toss these out there into the cyber ethers, the e-oceans, with hope that they are found and heard by someone somewhere.
Really enjoyed this!
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