Ron Southern died yesterday (Thursday) at 2:15 pm after his battle with cancer.

I 've only now gotten the computer back in the house after many weeks. I've een sick a couple

And then one day British Petroleum decided that they would fuck the Universe and that no one could

I hear from no one much Or at least very seldom. Some send me their junk mail, Though it's not

Can you cure me of what ails me Or cure the ailment of its attachment to myself? Is there any hope or

I think she was a pristine girl Who went out into the world With many delusions and intentions, One

Not one of my lovers Were ever much like me or even close, But for that I should be grateful. I

I hear the voice of an American woman living in Mexico. She speaks of her attachments to nature in a

It's getting too late to die young, So I'll have to live with that— Though I cannot say how

“It's a beautiful day,” the house-painter said each morning as I went out, and it always seemed

I don't really care for living, I fear, But I'm incapable of facing death— Not the rope or

You were always such a good girl. It made it more delightful to me That you chose me at one time to

I miss her a little still, it's true, but I miss you more and you're still here. I missed out

Bob Dylan: Feel like falling in love with the first woman I meet Putting her in a wheelbarrow and

(By Lennon/McCartney) There are places I remember All my life though some have changed Some forever

I had an odd remembrance the other day. First I recalled the ascot I wore for a couple of my teenage

I know you're younger than me And none of my business, But I wish I had a pretty woman like you

by Bob Dylan May God bless and keep you always May your wishes all come true May you always do for

One of the recent changes I made at "Judy Garland's Blues" (poetry blog) that I really

Here's a link to a poem written in my old age about the "first love" of my youth. As I

(For My Aunts Pearl and Louise Who Died The Same Day This Week) I weep for poems that went astray And

It injures me when you think ill of me, Though I guess in truth I injure myself When I know you are

I've decided God is indifferent to some of us and hates the rest. Which group I fall in, I can

If you sent me a thousand dollars With which to make the trip from here to you, That would be enough,

What's the deal, did I die? I don't think so. Okay, then, don't clam up! -- Posted By Ron

Our lives are full, too full-- But full of what? TV and dis-ease, Distant neighbors just there across

I talk so much of dead things (I talk too much), I slog through lifetimes mired in it, So it seems

I hesitate to write to you Since you told me That everything was crazy there Without disclosing any

I'm running out of shit to say. What'll I do about that? Improvise. Get buggy. Don't

I used Turbotax last year and didn't recall it being Hell on earth, but apparently I am very