windrag : poetry : journal

:: f : w : i : w ::

Month: April, 2005

goat cheese and sourdough toast

the cats are all aprowl tonight, at least the black ones, skittish and gutter-lean basking in car-heat, then dashing from tire to tire daring the moon to catch them

sinusitis

perusing my cookbooks, i contemplate what kind of trouble i can get myself into with rice, greens and spices, and how i can work it into my song tomorrow. just doing my job

something about a train…

grief: fills the bookshelves. keeps afloat a thousand occupations. weeded the flower tub today. is not to be avoided. is nothing if not reliable.

ginger tea

the quietest evening in recent memory. you can hear the lightbulbs, like little campfires you weren’t prepared for this, and now you wonder if anyone will notice

ghosts

i woke up late and haven’t played the flute dreams of familiar people in un- familiar situations stole the morning i straighten my spine and go on