She screams because she needs, proving that she is. Her laugh grows out of her cry like an errant branch that should have been pruned. I see edges of it rising from the mass of tears. Her face, contorted with the being of want stops. And lumps of articulation grow. At first, her sounds blossom out of a knot of sobs, consonants with cries between instead of vowels. But it takes leisure, a free breath to practice speech.

American Sentences Bus Boys Build

by Rodney L. Eisenbrandt

Owner of two Adult Foster Care Homes, Rod took care of the elderly for twenty-two years. He designed and sold specialty jewelry, for thirty years. He is also a machinist who owned and operated a machine shop for twenty years. Now a retired sixty four year old, he I considers himself self a rouge writer of poems about life and life’s journeys.

Bus Boys Build

Bus boys build big bunk beds, bringing bits back, by bussing boarders buffets. **

bunk [ bungk ]
noun (plural bunks)

Definition:

1. simple bed: a simple narrow bed built on a shelf or in a recess
2. FURNITURE Same as bunk bed
3. sleeping place: any bed or place to sleep ( informal )
**4. regional AGRICULTURE pile of vegetables: a heap of vegetables, usually potatoes, covered with earth and mulch and sometimes stored in a shed

I Can No Longer Feed You My Love

by Don Schaeffer



The nurse cringes
when I move up beside you
using your old wheelchair as a seat
and you lay in half recline.

I put the food
into your mouth
to bring back to me
the house that you have slipped from
just months ago.

As I reproduce
a warm vestige
of what we had
just over
the thinnest wall of weeks
it stuffs your lungs.
I can no longer
feed you my love.