[oogletexino]

free histories of the road

.................

[buschliterealtreecan]

any of you still alive: here's the new fiction distro.

stories from the road, available in print or digital,

free or by donation/self addressed stamped envelope.

..

[oogletexino]

litter box

full zine in print 2023

..

[buschliterealtreecan]

Renee&Joliette book iv ch.3

(complete with grammar suggestions tossed unto the wayside ditch)

[buschliterealtreecan]

Renee&Joliette p.189-190

[buschliterealtreecan]

graduating from the typewriter.

renee&joliette p.178

[buschliterealtreecan]

old vomit

[buschliterealtreecan]

i got a death bird                                     growing

in my dreams i’ve seen this wide wide oak tree   wrap it’s branches round us         with her seams bursting like a pretty blouse       ohh, this tree she is so very very old and she is culled for torment and death red blood /  less bed / my love, yer breath ! i’m singing to you in this dream, you say, you sing to me, you say that yer singing sweet, to me, in this dream.              like a bouquet .. i waited down the path for you. there’s a cobblestone track thru the ancient bowery, darkened blue the night maidens are all asleep, and i woke with you in an endless kiss the undergrowth say /  s “let me in let me in, please” let me fall in, please i’ve got mine, miss!  it’s my own growing stone,   it’s chipped at the edges by my teeth / yer kiss and finger-tips.   like a dagger thru my neck, just barely piercing th’ skin, like pressing into my skin !!

oh, girl, it’s so blue    it’s so blue… like it will leave a mark on you, oh

                                                           lavender                                                                  -js

[buschliterealtreecan]

more poetry of yesteryears

[buschliterealtreecan]

fragments of a love letter / philadelphia public library circa 2008

i wwoke up that morning on the leather couch, the same one i let myfingers run across, the same place i let my fingers run across skin, maybe once. the air from out the window cool and relaxing. this'll be take, uh, four hundred, rolling. loooong distance operater, place this call you know its not for fun.

two or three girls on my mind and bong hits and cigarettes, we went to the park let loose some rumbling songs made 50 bucks bought food. this guitar solo really jazzes my soul. i wonder what life is like, sometimes, for other things floating hopelessly. girl, have you ever seen a train so slow and sad.

philadelphia is a loud rage of swirling faces and voices, everything almost drowns out everything else. dirt on the sidewalk thick with scent of dumpster trash floating in the air, and

lonesome suzie

just sits there, where can she find a friend?

i wish i could do something as i sat on a chinatown bus rolling from boston. new york city was the same passing crowd and green park signs and skyscrapers. made a couple bucks.

day, bus moving faster to filthandwealthia. sucking cigarette smoke into my soul. i strolled down spruce street seeking something.

i thought of you once, i think in arcata, when i saw a girl with a small wolfy pup, she had brown hair, and a face of soft defined edges and a look like she was about to say something important, maybe.

quick second flashes of people i know only once in a while. these words keep on replacing my thoughts like shabby shop signs and shoe shiners and she shines, i saw her. she was like

something

that separated my thoughts from my regrets. i have no regrets now, but i did once, she fixed that. she took a bus down south and i saw her not once since, but i can still remember the way she felt in my arms.

i'm gonna roam this old highway, until the break of day. pack up and go. dirt under my nails, atleast that much is true, my clothes are ragged, but the scarf is warm and comforting around my neck.

i saw children playing the other day, it was mind blowing. just two tabs of acid through that night and well into the next day, it was a hell of a trip. no sense recalling it, i already have, twice even.

sometimes there's no sense to me, cecily

sometimes i don't understand myself

but i hope that maybe

if you have read all of this

you will understand

how my thoughts sneak up on me

and therefore

i am never very good at explaining myself

so i'll take this chance to

utilize the internet

to tell you

how beautiful you are

and how much i want you here

but wanting things doesn't get you shit

only waiting for them

and thats what i'll do

i will go about my life

smoke many cigarettes

and go to many different places

i will only be able to find a computer

once or twice a week

so the letters will be less frequent

but i promise you they will be longer

and every chance i get i'll write you

and the moment this great pipeline

lets me know you are back

in america

i will be moving towards you

..

[railwayhistorical]

Tonight’s Sky

Here we see a waxing crescent at 14.1% along with Venus. One image by Richard Koenig; taken April 26th 2020.

[buschliterealtreecan]

just got hem's collected letters from thriftbooks in the mail and loving it in the sun.

[buschliterealtreecan]

04.14.20 - reading in the sun

[buschliterealtreecan]

old photos. rolling cross the bay to pensacola - fall 2008

[buschliterealtreecan]

[buschliterealtreecan]

[buschliterealtreecan]

     I'm that perfect combination of dangerous and vulnerable tonight, lost in the cold wind blowin'. I feel like i'm in a deep dark sea, full of emptiness, full of the deep dark blue.

[buschliterealtreecan]

“in the evening, when the lights are low,  i’m so lonely i could cry.”

[lulamaelives]

[buschliterealtreecan]

because