October 19, 2019

This is far from a children’s book.

Heading to my sister’s house to babysit The Boy, I called upon a time. A time which allows for hours to fade like the edges of oceans. There’s a baby to watch; he laughs at my worries, in part cries because, “fuck you, man…”

Like the day he made great it was destined he’d take.

A book for which saved me of a failing* grace.

He held my past thought train, then laughed because it looks plain.

His mom bought my book. I saw it against the wall on the kitchen counter top. I too said, “how plain…” Since I’m here and with the baby, let’s get a pic! I sat him up on the couch, handed him my book and he immediately grabbed it to laughed.

Uncle Budd, Uncle Budd, this is your book?

I have no idea how to read, so let’s pretend as I look.

They know what you’re doing, no more than the book’s undoing.

He held a plain looking book, so simple I did nothing for his engagement. What’s held are my emotions bottled up. The times I suppressed doubt because I had plans to succeed, no matter how hard the road present itself.

Jump for joy, this is a toy.

You say behind the words are meaningless joy?

I’m laughing at your past pains because you needed a pic with the boy.

As effortless the book, simplicity is all it took. The cover not so easy on the eye, but simple, it was a thought I gave a try. Like babies and maybes, doing something out the blue is the nature under Dekum’s blue.

Far from a children’s book, but I needed a promo look.

Simple because that’s how I wrote the book.

Meditation and not trying — so a lonely road I took.

Without trying I got the baby to care.

Near his mouth boy don’t you dare.

He looks like my dad sometimes. Then his eyes beam like his dad in time. I see a charm for the boy he is. Holding a book of bullshit for peace it is. He held it to show how baby’s can take emotional pain. I care not for words are art in vain.


Born and raised in Portland, Oregon, Budd writes to encourage readers to explore the depths of their inner ocean, an unexplored self, because it's fun once you get through the emotional part... “The world around us is our vehicle, what you'll read is how I digest it.” -Budd

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