I like my glasses clean and my cigarettes fresh.
I never claimed to be a complicated man.
I like my life true and the experience intense.
I like my whiskey clean and pure, 90 proof.
Does corn whiskey count as a vegetable?
Don’t look into my eyes; you won’t like what you see.
Don’t ask any questions that you don’t want answered.
The other night I saw Miles Davis in a dream,
holy and mean, violent and sanctified,
like a prophet, like Elijah in the Hebrew Bible.
“Time after time.” I will come back for you.

I like squirrels in the morning coming up and asking
me for breakfast and I get the black oil sunflower seeds.
“I told the bartender my plan for the future.
There was a bright flash of light and I jumped.”
I need to buy more sunflower seeds. I’m getting low.
I feed the birds too, wild bird seed. It’s a lot like
what you feed to chickens, but they love it,
and gather on the fence waiting for me to scatter
the seeds across the walk in my robe every morning.
These things are my incantation of life – magic.
Stand back. Strange, frightening things will happen.

I like looking at old pictures. They can be brown or faded,
I don’t care. They transport me to another time.
I like feeling like I’ve done everything that I can do.
I don’t like leaving anything undone. It bothers me.
I like getting up in the morning before the sun rises.
It is a special time. There is energy to be had.
I like women strong and independent who will
tell me to go to hell when they need to, tough love.
I like my guns clean and loaded, ready to rock and roll.
Condemn me, but comes a day when everyone will want one.
I smell the evening wind. I sit up late. Even God fears me.

Syd Weedon
4/14/2025