BrooksLooks@ A River Mad

an icy sidewalk
a beautiful path
to our temporary home
i slip along uphill
happily passing
by the river Mad

through this
snowglobe village
past windows aglow
families settle in
to an early dusk
dinner aromas
mix out here
each breath
blends with
smells of sweet pine
no one notices me
passing by
happily enjoying
this river Mad

they don’t know
i am walking away
pondering not
how my life’s
path brought me here
but the moving on
how brief the moments
my last time here
i walk happily
along this river Mad

have i finally
learned the lesson of
breathing deeply
smelling sweetly
listening intently
savoring each moment
with each precious soul
i met here
however briefly
happily i pass
along this river Mad

one last time

© Brooks Bradbury / BrooksLooks 2025

In tribute to the village of Warren, Vermont.

BrooksLooks@ New Knees

At first I was terrified at the thought of replacing any original body parts especially something as important as a knee. I had, after all, made it this far with the nearly complete ‘original set’ my Mom gave me short of only some minor dental adjustments. Little did I know, I would soon be joining the New Parts club.

Increasingly sharp pain in my left knee all-day and all-night made future surgery a rapidly approaching no-brainer. On the proverbial pain scale of 0 to 10, there were already way too many 10’s. So the date was set: November 30, 2023. Full left knee replacement.

Prior to surgery in his Chestertown, Maryland office Dr. Lohr handed me the latest model—the “Zimmer Biomet Cruciate Retaining” implant. He and his Elkton, Maryland Surgery team would skillfully install one of these beauties in an out-patient surgery operation. As I held the actual knee part in my hands, it felt like a well-machined titanium toy with a moving part and no obvious purpose. Prior to the big go-ahead decision we exhausted a regimen of cortisone injections, arthroscopic surgery, and some squishy injectable liquid that brought only fleeting relief. So that’s all there was to it: a new left knee was now a necessity.

Before we arrived in Chestertown, we were happily ensconced on the beautifully stark Laramie River Ranch in the dramatically wide-open river valley of the same name in north central Colorado. Susan and I had made the decision to leave these rural ranchlands of the great western U.S. that we loved (for now) and head to the beautifully rural eastern shore of Kent County, Maryland for one more chapter. Here, we signed on to help a dynamic family with the transformation of their newly acquired Chesapeake Bay estate from wedding venue to an upscale country house hotel.

We closed our post office box in Jelm, Wyoming and dropped the key at the Laramie Post Office. On a snowy day at -6F degrees we began our drive to Chestertown, Maryland in a 26’ U-Haul truck and trailer before heading trough Colorado’s eastern rangelands and then driving on through Kansas.

The buildup to the new left knee project was filled with lots of unnecessary anxiety. What if this goes wrong? What if this the end of a career (of all things)? What if I can’t walk anymore? What if??? I was a basket case as I faced my first surgical treatment, and in the end I had no reason to be one.

The new left knee project was a great experience thanks to Dr. Lohr, his talented team, the Upper Bay Surgery Center in Elkton, and the Centers for Advanced Orthopedics and Sports Medicine team back in Chestertown. I (and likely legions of other folks) are especially grateful to the dedicated, caring, and skilled team of physical therapists at the Centers. Thanks to them for quickly making my new left knee my strongest knee.

Fast forward to 2025, Susan and I were finishing a project in Warren, Vermont and although we loved the Mad River Valley and even had thoughts of retiring in that area we made the decision to return to the Chestertown area. I was now beginning to feel the familiar ramp-up of pain now in my right knee.

There were other compelling reasons we chose to return to Chestertown. Among these I include (in no particular order) horse care, healthcare, housing availability, and affordability of housing. This meant that Susan’s beautiful saddle rescue horse, Roxy, would return to Kent Equestrian Center and our three spirited puppies: Mr. Fluffy, Joey, and Gypsy would make yet another new home here in Kent, County this time in Worton, Maryland.

In reaching out to his office, we learned that Dr. Lohr made the decision to retire from surgery and was now recommending his colleague Dr. Cumiskey here in town for my right knee replacement. He would be installing the Microport Orthopedic Medial Pivot. It is a different “knee” but so far I am unable to perceive any difference between the two. Suffice it to say this has been an equally smooth transition, an uneventful day surgical procedure and a successful physical therapy regimen just as the previous one. I am grateful to everyone involved.

Today, almost a week after my right knee replacement I wistfully tried reaching for my smart purple “HurryCane” gathering dust in the corner. Susan bought it for me last time. It was obviously way too early to move from walker to cane and I quickly retreated to the comfort of my sturdy Made -in-China “Guardian” brand aluminum walker, Model G40Z. It’s a less-flashy tubular aluminum deal with the two rubber wheels in front and the two rubber cane feet in the back. It will be another week or so before I can reach for the cane. All things in time.

Now as a two time frequent-flyer of knee replacement surgery here is the wisdom I can impart to another whose knees may be fading: 1. You will be in pain for two weeks after the surgery. 2. Then you will make some progress but you will be in pain and discomfort for another four weeks. 3. Physical therapy is a painful necessity so it their way. 4. You will likely need pain meds but try to wean yourself from them as soon as possible. 5. I have nothing but gratitude for everyone who helped me—including the Nursing team in Elkton and even our neighbor, Kay, who was pressed into service to help Susan and me surmount the three steps up into our home.

If you are blessed by the tremendous support from your family such that I have received by my wife Susan, then you are very well-loved indeed. Susan has really carried the heavy load for me during my recovery (two times now!) so I can lie around in bed and try to stave off the pain. These days, I am counting all of our blessings, looking forward to taking walks again in our new neighborhood, with and without my HurryCane, and to enjoying our beautifully rural eastern shore.

© Brooks Bradbury / BrooksLooks 2025

BrooksLooks@ Outtakes from a Career in Hospitality

“There is a quiet triumph in releasing the grip of a toxic employer—like exhaling after stifling silence. The act itself is both elegy and emancipation, making space for light and truth and integrity to return from under the shadows of misguided micromanagement. In that hush, you begin to reclaim your name, your future, and your peace.”

© Copyright 2025 Brooks Bradbury / BrooksLooks. All Rights Reserved.

BrooksLooks@ An Old Blue Sofa

left their old blue sofa
in Arizona
washers and dryers
strewn on the way
someone got
our bed, mower, and piano
in Carolina
there on their very last day
that long ladder they left out in Utah
with fuel tanks of gas and propane
a grill and a pile of hoses
moving nearly made them insane

’cause one door always closes
tho’ they always had good luck
there were moments of glory
out on the road
but some days there just wasn’t
room in the truck
they bought stuff
over and over
cuz they needed a new one
that day
already had extra copies
packed in boxes
stashed in storage units
miles away

they hired over
a hundred movers
who were pleasant
and strong
and kind
they loaded ’em here
unloaded ’em there
over and over,
didn’t care where
it wasn’t easy
but they didn’t mind

but oh every scratch,
every rip, nick, and chip
every split, break, and tear,
every missing piece
every new sign of wear
every dent and gouge,
new punctured holes
inflicted on furniture
poked through their souls
all the things lost
scraped and dragged
blemished and heaved
what is the cost?

they got dragged
and dropped,
slammed and
mashed,
piled high,
stepped on and
thrashed
pushed around
knocked on the ground
never knew why
shoved a bit
heaved and hoved
crushed and driven
it was daunting then
though they’re better now
for all of it

they’ve written
their story
over thousands
of miles
there were
special moments
tribulations
and trials
proving their vitality
in hospitality
across miles and miles

goodbyes to friends
the greatest cost

© Copyright 2025 Brooks Bradbury / BrooksLooks. All Rights Reserved.

BrooksLooks@ UHaul

As we were driving down the highway last week, I wondered if UHaul’s president Joe Schoen has ever driven one of his 26′ rental trucks with his family and three dogs in the cab, everything he owns loaded in the back, and a vehicle on their tow-behind-trailer driving 9 hours over 500 miles on I-87 and the Garden State Parkway? I must be crazy, but that was just one thought I had on this latest trip.

Now, don’t get me wrong. We are regular users of UHaul’s equipment, and we are generally grateful for what they do provide. We are also very knowledgeable about their service having moved 25 times in 25 years. So it’s time for some friendly feedback.

To begin, a forecast of 8-12 inches of snow is always daunting the day before loading the truck and making a move. Certainly UHaul doesn’t control the weather.

A slightly sloped, icy driveway made connecting the truck tow hitch to the trailer a shot (i mean many shots) in the dark on a good day even harder. What about putting a small camera above the back of the truck, or near the hitch, that shows someone when they are backing up and getting closer to the hitch? It is always seems way more complicated than it needs to be, sort of like connecting an approaching rocket to the international space station.

OK so if you have driven southbound on I-87, especially the 100 miles or so south to Harriman, NY in one of your trucks, Mr. President, you would return to your office and immediately email the manufacturer to begin installing shock absorbers, and I mean good ones(!) in each truck. Come on! Each crack in the road felt like we were crossing the grand canyon! Our teeth haven’t stopped chattering even days later. I call not acceptable to the lack of comfort, and the poor condition of that stretch of road.

Most times that we have made reservations for your trucks and trailers and equipment, we ask for the rental pick-up and drop-off near where we live. Logical right? Instead, your UHaul system is to tell your customer the night before(!) how far out of the way they have to drive to pick up your truck. This is usually a great inconvenience at an already stressful time. For us, this has been as long as a 4 hour drive one way! Sometimes we have faced having to drive to one city for the truck and a different city for the trailer. Come on! I call BS. I understand that the logistics of getting your assets in the right place must be a great challenge. What about using computers or A.I. or quantum computers and giving it a try to provide more service to your customer?

This time, after being on the road forever then unloading, we had to bring the rig back and were instructed to drive an hour away from our destination. When we arrived, the building was empty, hadn’t any paint on it, looked like the Addams Family was filmed there, and there was no one in sight. I walked to a neighbor’s house to ask if this was a legitimate UHaul facility. They thought maybe it was, and I should just back in and leave it. If they only knew what our last 10 hours were like, and that I have so little expertise in backing up a big truck and trailer. I drove the rig straight in their driveway figuring someone more experienced than me could do the precision backing into traffic. What about a circular driveway? Zero customer service here.

In any case, thanks for listening. If you plan to set up a UHaul Frequent Hauler Club, please let me know. We hope this was the end of our UHaul moves. Thank you for being there for us all those moves.

Sincerely,

Brooks Bradbury

© Copyright 2023 Brooks Bradbury / BrooksLooks. All Rights Reserved.

BrooksLooks@ Innside / Out

I N N S I D E / O U T

Brooks Bradbury

WARREN, VERMONT — There comes a time when even an Innkeeper gets to say what is on his mind. Though generally an unheard-from group of discreet, closed-mouthed individuals we end up knowing lots of odd secrets about our guests, team members, and neighbors. We keep these secrets to ourselves of course — sort of like a pastor in the ministry of serving others.

Recent occurrences in the Mad River Valley give this Innkeeper pause to reflect on the arrival of national politics onto our very doorstep in the fiercely guarded Vermont sanctuary known as the Mad River Valley. For outsiders, “mad” is not a reference to psychosis but the local term for the condition of the river in the spring, when it is especially turbulent and forceful.

Anyway, without giving away any national secrets, it seemed the entire world knew before we did that a certain someone and his family would be vacationing here. He later changed his plans. In short order, we were besieged by a million “how could you’s” and “well, I never” admonitions, along with creepy fake online reviews disparaging the cleanliness of our ordinarily immaculate sofas at the Warren Store (of all things).

Our wonderful front desk team, accustomed to attending to the details of each guest’s visit and welcoming individuals of all stripes and from all places to our gracious and intimate environment was beset with vitriolic, threatening, and cruel calls and emails. Here is a glimpse:

As people were dropping off gifts of beer and maple syrup for the guest who never was (really!), Wendy S. called over and over that weekend to shame the Inn and everyone in it, bringing a member of our hardworking front desk team to tears by telling her she wasn’t from Vermont and was therefore part of the problem. (!?)

We received scores of emails similar to this missive from Ms. B. Brown: “I spent my wedding night at the Pitcher Inn and celebrated many special occasions there over the years. I’ve recommended the hotel and restaurant to countless others. I’m appalled that you are hosting the Nazi-sympathizing VP

this weekend. He stands for everything this beautiful, special state fights against. But I guess billionaires have to stick together, right? I will never, ever enter your doors again. What an absolute disgrace.”

And a much beflustered Mr. A. Rifkin called days later to politely say he would never come here again because the Inn hosted a certain guest (who, as we know, never actually stayed here). There were hundreds of similar notes and calls detonated in a great blast of collective indignation.

Now that the clamor has died down, it’s important to set a few things straight. First, I’d like to reassure those folks that as the Inn is squarely in, and of, Vermont our politics and sympathies generally match up with those vigilant Vermonters. Second, the Inn and its predecessor boardinghouse have been welcoming guests to Warren since about 1860. There has never been a political or other qualification required of our guests except to pay for their lodging and meals and to otherwise function as decent people while here.

We take great pleasure in welcoming our guests to this extraordinary place we call home. We support Vermont’s reliance on tourism. And we encourage anyone considering a stay or a meal to visit our website. Our guest rooms and dining room may be booked online at any time.

We also stand with peaceful protesters and consider it a privilege to do so. As a matter of fact, we served complimentary and delicious 802 Coffee (our special blend) to one protester who carried a sign that read, “These quislings aid and comfort Nazi traitors.”

The real credit goes to our entire professional team of talented individuals (with their own political views and personal apprehensions) for holding to their higher calling of serving others well regardless of a guest’s political persuasion and amidst this national moment of furor and backlash.

These are interesting times.

May cooler heads and gracious hospitality prevail.

© Copyright 2025 Brooks Bradbury / BrooksLooks

                          

BrooksLooks@ In the Company of Cowboy Singers

The stars aligned and we came to run a lovely guest ranch in the Chiricahua mountains of southeastern Arizona some years ago.

No sooner had we completed our contract to open the luxury Lodge and Spa at Primland in Meadows of Dan, Virginia than my wife Susan said, “I’m ready for adventure!” It was then that the owner of Sunglow Ranch called to invite us to visit.

Flying into Tucson we set out in our rental car down I-10 east when about two hours later we passed the outpost towns of Sunsites and Pearce. Soon after, leaving the pavement behind we drove another 7 miles down Turkey Creek Road (think dirt, dust, and rocks) to reach Sunglow Ranch–a remote and beguiling setting in the ancient Turkey Creek caldera of a long extinct volcano. Here Mexican, Chokonen Apache, and finally Europeans fought over precious water, land, and stagecoach routes through native Apache homeland.

It was about then Susan uttered the memorable retort, “There had better be a miracle at the end of this road.” We had long ago passed the sign that said, “No Services beyond this point.”

In some ways it was a miracle, even more so today as we look back and recall this sublime adventure in our lives. Our mailbox was 28 miles away past the Border Control checkpoint at the post office in Sunsites. Evading diamondback and Mojave rattlesnakes required daily vigilance although we came to love this sky island country where the Chihuahuan and Sonoran deserts meet. It is a truly remote area that is surprisingly rich in wildlife. Even jaguars and mountain lions were at home here along with coatimundi, javelina, scorpions, and tarantulas.

When you live in places like this, you soon learn the importance of arranging for visiting musicians and performers for our guests–as they became our musical interludes as well. One such musician, Joel Eliot, would drive up from Sierra Vista, Arizona to play for us. It was here at Sunglow Ranch that Joel performed and introduced us to Cowboy Music.

Now whenever we tell someone we love Cowboy Music, they will invariably agree they enjoy country music too. We try to explain the difference only to have the other person glaze over. If you are interested, it might be best to begin by listening to some of the old timers like Stan Jones or enjoy the music of Ian Tyson to understand what this means.

Western music was influenced by the folk music traditions of England, Wales, Scotland, and Ireland and cowboy songs sung around campfires in the 19th century such as Streets of Laredo. Otto Gray, an early Cowboy singer, felt that authentic western music had only three rhythms each derived from the gaits of the cow pony: walk, jog, and lope.

As a cowboy singer, Joel Eliot came to perform several times for us and each time he revealed new Cowboy songs and poetry. Through Joel, we came to know the music of other beloved Cowboy singers like Ian Tyson, Rex Allen, Stan Jones, Tom Russell, Corb Lund, and Dave Stamey. We came to know beloved Cowboy poets like Baxter Black, Charles Badger Clark, and Waddie Mitchell to name only a very few. We have listened to sweet performances by Michael Moon, Ben Alexander, and Gary McMahan at ranches in Colorado.

This past week we traveled back to Wickenburg, Arizona to hear Dave Stamey perform to a packed house at the impressive Desert Caballeros Western Museum. Dave is a favorite of ours (the museum too) and while there we delighted in reconnecting with Joel Eliot who was serendipitously in attendance that evening. Many of the beloved songs by Dave Stamey speak to his growing up on the family ranch in Montana most reflect his earlier lives as wrangler, dude string cowboy, and mule packer.

Dave performed songs both heartfelt and humorous for the faithful including Montana, a paean to his birthplace and growing up on a cattle ranch in Yellowstone County near Billings including his new 40 below, and The Truck Song about the challenges of life in Montana; a new song Too Many Crows, the humorous Fishin’ for Chicken, expressed thankfulness for one’s dog in Good Dog; sweet Sharon Littlehawk (a remembrance of a Native American girl from his childhood); and The Vaquero Song—perhaps becoming Dave’s most well-known song and a nostalgic look back at the rancho era of the 1840s when vaqueros and cowboys rode the range.

todavía estoy aquí I am still herе
todavía estoy aquí my soul is dancing in the moonlight
I mingle with each grain of sand in the land that is my birthright

Dave paid tribute to Stan Jones’ Cowpoke song written in 1951, the kind of songs from the TV western era that we grew up with back when we still thought places like Tombstone, Arizona were imaginary. Dave also performed sacred Cowboy music standards like El Paso written by Marty Robbins and Ghost Riders written by Stan Jones. He ended the evening with his inspiring Come Ride with Me (Susan’s favorite Dave Stamey song) followed by an encore of Night Riders Lament written by Jerry Jeff Walker.

Ah but they’ve never seen the Northern Lights
They’ve never seen a hawk on the wing
They’ve never spent spring on the Great Divide
And they’ve never heard ole’ camp cookie sing

Thanks to Dave Stamey and others, we have come to know there is magic in the air when you combine authentic Cowboy music performed live on a beautiful evening while singing along–especially around a campfire out west. It was magic that evening at the Desert Caballeros Western Museum in Wickenburg.

Todavia estoy a qui.

by Brooks Bradbury / March 2024 BrooksLooks
brooks.bradbury@gmail.com

BrooksLooks@ Chiricahua Cowgirl

under powder blue skies
a young arizona girl rides
on her pride and joy pony
their rare love abides

her mother’s final dying hope
a gift to her with a lariat rope
a leopard appaloosa colt
her daughter named him lightning bolt

she fights the pain every now & then
chiricahua cowgirl rides again
to reconnect with early days
with her mother’s love
and simple ways

in apache lands of chokonen
chiricahua cowgirl rides again
get up, get on your horse and tell me when
the chiricahua cowgirl rides again

they roamed the desert range forever
two young hearts rode together,
smells of piñon pine and leather
days go by and they would know
life’s suprising sudden blows
shattered bones and broken hearts
painful falls and lover’s woes

she fights the pain every now and then
chiricahua cowgirl rides again
to reconnect with earlier days
and her mother’s love and simple ways

in apache lands of chokonen
chiricahua cowgirl rides again
get up, get on your horse tell me when
chiricahua cowgirl rides again

a handsome cowboy raw and tall
brought her flowers, changed it all
her love grew stronger
then all fell through
ending some months later
because he was untrue

the wild west became wild then
unbridled anger and wild eyes,
she set off to outrun his lies
nothing could contain her rage
she tried hard to turn the page
rode her horse like a lion from a cage

the ride was fast and far and high,
tears from loss and cries of why
beyond the limits of horse and girl
a wild crazy dervish whirl

a scorpion surprised them
her horse reared up, she fell down
only hours later came around
her horse stayed by her
they stood their ground

she dragged herself up
from the ground to her stirrups
broken bones and an unyielding spirit
her last ride? she’ll never hear it

chiricahua cowgirl rides again
get up, get on your horse
and tell me when
the chiricahua cowgirl rides again

chiricahua cowgirl rides again

© Copyright 2023 Brooks Bradbury / BrooksLooks. All Rights Reserved.

Lyrics in search of a musician.

BrooksLooks@ Never Thought

never thought
we’d ever see
a defilement
of our democracy
by a criminal president
and liars-in-wait
who light the fires
of racist hate

annoying the greatness
of America’s soul
these loud little voices
denied and insane
racist “men”
who fail at life’s game
ignore the rainbow of life
and rage at the sane

© Copyright 2023 Brooks Bradbury / BrooksLooks. All Rights Reserved.

BrooksLooks@ ‘Thoughts & Prayers’

never thought we’d ever say
thoughts and prayers became cliché

a great country watches
even its young people die

from a lack of reasonable measures
and congress gone awry

so-called leaders equivocate
dancing around as it gets late

so many lost now, whole communities vexed
a country in fear cries out, “who’s next?”

© Copyright 2023 Brooks Bradbury /
BrooksLooks / All rights Reserved

BrooksLooks@ Great Smokies

my heart has raced
on your leaf strewn trails
where nature thrives
sweet peace prevails

take me out
beyond the noise
to your deep coves
and soulful joys

on each fringed ridge
atop lofty bald
eagles fly
where i am called

through walls of rhododendra
clouds of gentle mist
close in on me, i breathe and ponder
at last why i exist

© Copyright 2023 Brooks Bradbury / BrooksLooks. All Rights Reserved

BrooksLooks@ Never Thought We’d Ever See

never thought
we’d ever see
a defilement
of our democracy
by a criminal president
and his liars in wait
who light the fire
of racist hate

looking into
America’s soul
a battle rages
over losing control
as racist “men”
cheat at life’s game
deny the rainbow
and rage at the rain

© Copyright 2022 Brooks Bradbury / BrooksLooks. All Rights Reserved.

BrooksLooks@ Weeds

never thought
we’d ever see
racism’s
resurgency

we’ve come so far
to face so late
the damage caused
by racist hate

if karmic forces
would rise above
grant our wish
transforming haters
into lives of love

if this can’t happen
at least deliver
our humble needs
turn racists into
harmless weeds

perhaps this happens
every year
which explains
weeds only purpose here

© Copyright 2021 Brooks Bradbury / BrooksLooks / All Rights Reserved

BrooksLooks@ Goodbye Neckties

Goodbye Ties

brought 200 neckties
to the thrift shop today
secreted in plastic bags (they never knew)
accepting them anyway

we had carted them all over the country
in some strange hoarding way
KonMari’s final test
how unburdened i feel today

it wasn’t like i was going back
to days of decorum for management
but what if forced against my will
back to the eastern establishment?

big and bright–wide you’d say
long since out of style
i was sure they’d be back ‘in’ one day
if only we kept them another while

they were knots and cravats, bows and reps
my wife could have made quite a quilt
how relieved i was to leave them stealthily there
with no ounce of guilt

these western ways have soothed my soul
beyond ties to wild rag and western hat
never going back to neckties, that’s my goal
prit’ near had enough of that

OK Marie Kondo! Yes! I confess!

i kept a suit or two that ‘bring me joy’
(plus 1 or 2 ties my wife, I mean I, smartly matched with pride )
they’re for funerals and weddings you know
except for only these, ties and me–we’re now untied

© Copyright 2021 Brooks Bradbury / BrooksLooks / All Rights Reserved

BrooksLooks@ Chicken Shit Holler

Audio of Chicken Shit Holler by Brooks Bradbury

he was the greatest living hero
‘ever came out ta Appalachia
they all knew his name there
from Meada’s-a’-Dan
to downtown Galax
from Fancy Gap
‘ta right back at ya

a girl there she got his number
then she became his wife
she said i ain’t saying nothin’
but this’ll be one hard life
you ain’t got hardly a dollar
so’s it’s prit near clear to me
sure’s hell yer from down in
old chicken shit holler
no one there’s got one damn dollar
you just gotta be from
chicken shit holler

and his life ensued
he got a job
and he got screwed
he got a right real attitude
then he got plum downright rude
began to feud, came unglued

he tried to make his fortune
and he jest got all tripped up
knocked down
worn out, bashed in some
got lost on endless highways
let it all get under his skin
he had it up to here back then
but hey they had a few good days

then he would just move on
’cause he didn’t like the bosses
didn’t like the rules
couldn’t face the losses
didn’t want to deal
with all them damn fools

when his wife looked right at him
and told him it to him straight
she said i ain’t saying nothin’
i know you do it for the dollar
but it looks to me like
you’re headin’ back home ta
old chicken shit holler

i said i think you’re right
time to stand up and fight
i ain’t going back to old chicken shit holler
even if i’m down to my last dang dollar

and he looked in the mirror
said his boss was an f’in clown
things got a bit clearer
he wasn’t backin’ down

then he told it straight to his a-hole boss
that he was sick and tired
‘yer the worst damn boss i’d run across!’
his boss said, ‘well, anyway, you’re fired’

and our hero said, “Your Loss.”

when he got home
his wife looked right at him
and told him it to him straight
she said i ain’t saying nothin’
but screw the almighty dollar
it looks to me like
you’re fixin’ to git yerself out of
old chicken shit holler
you’re on your way out
of old chicken shit holler

i’ve done my time
i ain’t no damn scholar
gettin’ the hell out a’
old chicken shit holler
if i have to spend my last half-dollar
gettin’ the hell out a’
old chicken shit holler

leave it behind
i’m proud of my blue collar
ain’t a goin’ back ta
old chicken shit holler

© Copyright 2021 Brooks Bradbury / BrooksLooks / All Rights Reserved

BrooksLooks@ Vegan Reason

Ranchers Sustained Audio

heavy rollers clank
on steel rails
overhead
recently slaughtered
carcasses
hung on hooks
swing past
by the half
and the quarter

heaved into place
a bandsaw whines
cut after cut
slicing through
muscle and bone
until bone dust
starts piling up

blood red slabs
slap down
on each stainless-steel table
as hyper-sharp knives
in a blur of fists
slice    toss    repeat
until a life once whole and alive
is neatly piled into buckets of each–
bone    fat     meat

a whoosh of the vacuum packer
as each steak, chuck, and round
is sealed in plastic bags
what’s left is
‘hamburger’ ground
the final path
on rolling racks
from open range
now piled
on shelves
in tidy stacks

amateur butchers
remove aprons of
thick yellow vinyl
covered in blood,
fat, and more
removing gloves
of black nitrile
sterilizing each table
and floor
the band saw
dismantled
until nothing remains
of this one life
hosed down the drain

and the grass-fed,
locally raised,
hormone-free,
grain-free,
well-cared-for-cow
has been neatly processed
in a stainless steel plant
near the field
that once was its home–
a freezer now

and the circle of life
on a ranch is on full display
when each cow’s life
ends this way

© Copyright 2021 Brooks Bradbury / BrooksLooks / All Rights Reserved

BrooksLooks@ Two Broken Hearts

an injured leg
a vicious break
inevitable steps
a vet must take

adrenaline runs wild
with anguish and stress
the only relief
is in her caress

a needle takes away his pain
uncertainty grows in wild eyes
then a final, fatal injection
Fuzzy’s strong heartbeat dies

two hearts lay broken
in the dust on the ground
after a raging storm
tears rain down
on Fuzzy’s neck
still warm

how she will miss him
and the sweet love they shared
their burdens and joys
how deeply she cared

there are hoofbeats in heaven
where Fuzzy runs free
down here a dark empty stall
a snip of mane, a memory

our herd is diminished
as sweet Fuzzy dies
his life sanctified
by the tears in her eyes

© Copyright 2020  Brooks Bradbury / BrooksLooks / All Rights Reserved

BrooksLooks@ Grandfather’s Poems

i re-rēad your poems
at the end of my life
the ones you wrote at
the beginning of yours

at a tender age
you learned too well
about violence, evil and
the upheaval of world wars

your poems speak of death
as you knew it first-hand
your search for sanctuary
in war-torn land

i rēad your reminders
of how we must live
how much we have
how we must give

[i seek your wisdom
in hints you’d intersperse
as a grandson interprets his
grandfather’s verse]

© Copyright 2020  Brooks Bradbury / BrooksLooks / All Rights Reserved

BrooksLooks@ Dying, Revisited

in thinking
about death
and lately, why
man-made things
and life itself
all seem to die

i think it’s best to leave
the dead things dead
to focus on living now
and what might lie ahead

but looking back
at the many ‘bridges’
that provided
us some security
in life’s rear view mirror
we clearly see,
they were all
quite temporary

in the face of death
we may try
to stand our ground
to resuscitate
to hang around
if there’s even a shred
of life left
but we should really leave
dead things dead
focus on living
carry on
if only bereft

what else in our lives
is at a last resort?
what do i behold
just this one time?
i cherish the moments
knowing life is sublime
knowing now that
time is short

i learn to let go
sanctifying the space
knowing something better
will take its place
one of life’s lessons
is to let dead things be
to savor life and each
sweet memory

© Copyright 2020  Brooks Bradbury / BrooksLooks / All Rights Reserved

BrooksLooks@ Our Beloved Country

senseless acts
so many whys
under a heavy knee
a good man dies

and the haters hate
and the extremists seethe
and our country falters
when good men can’t breathe

vigilante killers 
spread extremist lies
blood on racist hands
a good soul dies

lost, grieving families
are shattered
thoughts and prayers
hardly mattered

who did this?
why did he hate?
what was his name?
what were the motives?
on hallowed ground
flowers are laid
with flickering votives

why my beloved country
have we not resolved
inequality and hatefulness
why when we need them most
have our leaders dissolved?

tears pour out
from so many eyes
our own children afraid
when a good person dies

can’t hold back this flood
as another dies
in a river of blood

a great nation cries

too many are gone
too many whys
an ocean of tears

pours forth
from American eyes

© Brooks Bradbury 2020 | BrookLooks