Search
  • Matt Smythe
    • May 29, 2012
    • 1 min read

LET IT LANGUISH. I DON’T MUCH CARE.

Updated: Jul 10, 2020

It was a typical Memorial Day weekend. Painting, yard work, porch-step repair, cleaning out the barn, some father-son-son fishing and, of course, walking with the kids and their youth lacrosse buds in the parade from the American Legion to the ceremony at Veterans Hill in Woodlawn Cemetery. The bells for our fallen, 21 gun salute and Taps bringing me to silent tears as they always do.


It was a hot weekend. Slow. Heavy. Thick. Hot. Thankfully, we had the antidote.



0 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All

GOD BLESS BLUEGRASS

thank fucking god for that guitar making the most of his chance in hell whiskey with two ice cubes amphetamine fiddle and impossible banjo run lightning-strike tiptoes I can’t hear fast enough mando a

CORPUS CHRISTI

I wake to the wilderness in her eyes and a futile wish for cool air from the ceiling fan. Morning coffee and a cigarette on the porch. Shafts of sun and smoke tendrils. The coffee still too hot to sip

  • Black Instagram Icon

@fishingpoet

  • LinkedIn Social Icon

mattsmythe

© 2017 By Matt Smythe