Monday, November 30, 2020


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“A truth that’s told with bad intent

beats all the lies you could invent.”

--William Blake.


I can’t abide

is lying.

I believe

that any lie

is a breach of trust.

It’s sad enough

when I’m lied to,

with the lie being

a monody,

but when

it’s told

to the entire nation

or the world,

it just becomes


Glenn Buttkus


Posted over at d'Verse Poet's Pub

Wednesday, November 25, 2020

Blackthorne Episode 126

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 Cinemagenic 126


“People who have never had a broken heart will

never understand dead roses, sun breaks, truffles

Albinoni’s Adagio, neat brandy, the moon or drizzle.”

--Wendy Harmer

1(sound cue) piano and harmonica.

2(medium close-up) Bronson: his head down, his big

hands on his hips--Goddamn it, Mr. Buck, I swear, you

are a magnet for death. You are more trouble than my

town has ever seen.

3(close-up) Buck: Your town?

4(three-shot) Bronson: Blackthorne is going to take a

long spell to recover from a case of you.

Wallace: Truth be told, Cash, you’re the locust, not

him. He was born here. He belongs.

5(medium wide shot) Bronson stepped in closer to the

Sheriff: Where you hit, Joe?

Hop: In the pride.

Bronson: I doubt anyone ever died from that.

He said this without emotion, then turned on his heel,

and pushed his way back out to the street.

Hart, the blacksmith: We got to get you over to Doc’s.,

helping the sheriff to stand up.

Hop: NO! jerking himself free from the burly blacksmith.

He shook his head, squinting, swallowing hard.

No, you bring the sawbones to me. No one is going to

get to my prisoner--no one.

Wallace: Sorry, we can’t do that, Joe. You know how

busy he is right now. Christ, he’s got patients lying on

his damn stairs.

6(two-shot) Salina had both arms around Buck.

7(close-up) From her hand bag she pulled out a snub-

nosed Derringer, and stuffed it into the back of his pants.

For Buck the cold steel felt comforting.

8(medium close-up) Hop: Then someone let him know

to come over when he can. He waved his pistol at the

group in the doorway. Clear the hell out of here, all

of you!

9(close-up) Salina: I’ve got disinfectant and some 

bandages in my bag, plunking the bag onto Hop’s

desk, and starting to rummage through it.

10(sound cue) loud gunshot.

11(cut to medium wide shot) Hop fired his Colt

into the ceiling, and the bullet ricocheted off a

cell steel bar.

Hop: Henry, you and Salina stay, and everyone

else get the hell out of here!

People left quickly. Hart lingered for a moment

at the door, then closed it. Silence was sweet.

Buck sat down on a chair next to the pot-bellied

stove. He picked up two hunks of firewood from

an adjacent box, and stoked the dying embers

in the iron belly.

12(sound cue) The squeak of the stove door over

harmonica and banjo.

13(two-shot) Salina ripped hop’s bloody shirt sleeve

back, and dabbed cotton on the wound in his


14(cut to a wide-shot) Buck put a pan of water on the

stove, and Wallace stood by the window, watching

the street. Hop loaded his pistols.

Buck: Got any whiskey?

Hop: In the cupboard behind the coffee.

Wallace: What do you want to do with these bodies?

standing over the dead deputy.

Hop: Strip them of their hardware, and stack it on

my desk, then drag all four bodies outside onto the

boardwalk. They can be collected tomorrow. His

voice sounded raspy.

Salina: Untie your holster--the large cotton swab

matted with purple-black blood.

Hop did as he was requested, sliding his holster to

the side. He placed both .45s on the desk in front

of him. Wallace dropped four gun belts alongside

Buck’s Sharps.

Salina: You got another pair of pants?

Hop nodded, watching Wallace check the load on

Billy’s shotgun. The Sheriff’s cheeks fluttered, but

his jaw was set and he never winced in pain. Salina

cut the pant’s leg around the thigh wound, cutting

small pieces, and working them carefully out of the

torn swollen flesh, like peeling a peach with tweezers.

Wallace: This has been some goddamned night, as

he dragged the last intruder out of the door.

15(sound cue) saxophone and guitar.

Glenn Buttkus

Posted over at d'Verse Poet's Pub OLN

Tuesday, November 24, 2020


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“After one taste of madness, one can be consumed

by thoughts that follow behind like the fiery tail of

a comet.”--Mona Sorma.

Comets are similar to asteroids,

Celestial bodies orbiting the sun,

Composed mostly of frozen ammonia,

Called by many as “dirty snowballs”,

Coming past earth in regular cycles,

Coma is the cloud of gasses forming around it,

Carbon dioxide, water vapor, and ammonia.

Cosmic consciousness expands our minds.

Orion the Hunter can easily be seen in November.

Mega-constellations are low-orbit satellites.

Eridanus constellation is called “the River”.

Tarantula nebula is a large magellanic cloud.

Stingray nebula is the youngest known planetary nebula.

Glenn Buttkus

Pleiades & Acrostic Poetry

Posted over at d'Verse Poets Pub

Monday, November 23, 2020

My Carcajou

image from

 My Carcajou

“Life will reveal all to you when the time is right

and the moon is bright.”--Guru S. Gill.

In the great northern forests where Sasquatch has 

been seen and not seen, where winter has stabbed 

into the heart of autumn with icicle stilettos and 

deep dangerous freezes, there are isolated places

where there is no man’s track, no smell of tobacco,

no tread-marks, no oder of alcohol, no garbage, no

zap of neon, sirens or horns.

There is a snow wraith that prowls in the deepest

shadows, striking fear into the hearts of cougar,

bear, and men, that possesses granite muscles

undulating beneath a striped mantle, a little

monster with musk sacs, part bear, part badger,

part skunk, with savage ferocity and courage

equaled nowhere--the white wolverine.

Only a few men have ever seen the albino Carcajou,

but I have many times, in my mind, seen the glorious

swath from the powerful shoulders to the base of its

great bushy tail, and the fearsome black-green weasel

eyes, and the razor fangs that can crush bone or bite

through a metal roof. I have seen the skunkbear

sitting back on its haunches like a wolf, and it has

seen me.

From Winter’s skull cap,

it expects me, as I leave

the stink of cities behind.

 Glenn Buttkus


Posted over at d'Verse Poet's Pub                       

Thursday, November 19, 2020

Death as Lover

painting by Maxi Rodriguez.

 Death as Lover

“What would humans do without love,

become the Undead?”--Terry Pratchett.

Living the plague years,

with a quarter million dead

at our very doorstep,

we can only conjure Hope

from the strength within.

--Glenn Buttkus

To the well organ-

ized mind, death is but the next

great adventure.--J.K.Rowling

When death first touches you

as a youth, it’s a monster

of the first order,

but as it reappears its

features do soften.

--Glenn Buttkus

I am not afraid

of death, I just don’t want to

be there when it happens.

--Woody Allen

Death, as uterine

cancer, lingered with my mother,

taking her at 39,

but I took flight and soared

as all fledglings must.

--Glenn Buttkus

The fear of death is

related to fear of life;

a man who lives fully

is prepared to die.

--Mark Twain

In the Twilight Zone,

Death has the face of Robert Redford,

and the hands of Jesus.--Glenn Buttkus

I don’t want to die without any scars.

--Chuck Palahniuk.

For Sale--Baby Shoes--Never worn.

--Ernest Hemingway.

When people don’t express themselves, they die

one piece at a time.--Halse Anderson.

The Virus has taken

a dear friend of mine at 59,

so she doesn’t have to fight

cancer any longer.--Glenn Buttkus

For me, death is skidding

in broadside in a cloud of smoke,

totally worn out, while loudly

proclaiming, Wow, what a fucking ride!

--Hunter S. Thompson

If Death is a doorway,

and I hope it is, then Covid

is a resplendent Doorman.

--Glenn Buttkus

You only live twice,

once when you are born, and when

you look death in the face.

--Ian Fleming.

Over the last few years,

I’m sometimes awakened hearing

someone call my name.

--Glenn Buttkus.

When he shall die, cut him

into little stars, so that the world

will be in love with the night.

--William Shakespeare.

I’d like to think that

death is just exiting the play to

change costume and return

as a new character.

--Glenn Buttkus

Glenn Buttkus

Renga--haiku, tanka, senryu, & gembun.

Posted over at d'Verse Poet's Pub

Tuesday, November 17, 2020

Thousand Yard Stare

image from

 Thousand Yard Stare

“Their eyes stared blankly into space. They had a

million mile stare. They had seen forever.”

--Robert Heinlein.

It was everywhere

at Valley Forge in 1777,

chilled to the bone,

hungry, demoralized, 

low on blankets and ammunition.

Rising again in 1863

after the Battle of Gettysburg,

a Confederate private,

now a prisoner of war,

3,000 dead,

23,000 wounded,

capped by a glimpse

of Lincoln touring

the terrible battlefield.

Evident once more in 1950

in Korea at the

Battle of the Chosin Reservoir,

where 30,000 American GI’s

made a stand against

120,000 Chinese troops.

Present in 1968

at the Battle of Khe Sunh,

just south of the DMZ

where U.S. Marines were vastly

out-numbered by the North Vietnamese.

Persistent in 2004

In Iraq, at Fallujah,

Baghdad and Mosul,

the inception of the

New Millennium Crusades,

the never-ending conflict.

The thousand yard stare,

so full of death and shock and awe,

the pupils are dilated with paralysis,

images focus behind the lens,

and the occipital lobe

is blood-soaked

and bullet-riddled,

joining the ears

who’ve gone deaf

from the shrieks and screams--

and I see it all around me today,

as millions of Americans

battle the pandemic,

economic catastrophe,

and the rising seas,

while preparing for armed conflict

in our Second Civil War.

Glenn Buttkus

Posted over at d'Verse Poet's Pub