glow
to the west, a cheshire grin of a moon descends gently, tending toward the bay a saxophone from around the block describes my sweet and welcome longing
to the west, a cheshire grin of a moon descends gently, tending toward the bay a saxophone from around the block describes my sweet and welcome longing
sipping my morning tea, my mind is not content to settle within the cup but wanders out to play in the neighbor’s yard what’s that thing? what’s that called? what’s that!
monday morning, north wind clears the sky jasmine blossoms dance with plastic bags. preparing for the day, i shake my butt inside my bathrobe
the neighbors to the south are making music the scratching of the guiro echos off of the low-lying clouds. how surprising!–these branches that yesterday were bare
note to self: listen, motherfucker don’t expect your friends to under- stand your sense of humor, or to have one life is short! it’s spring!