half moon
as disappointing as the news can be it’s garbage night, the cans are out and there’s no reason to suspect they won’t be empty in the morning
as disappointing as the news can be it’s garbage night, the cans are out and there’s no reason to suspect they won’t be empty in the morning
i used to ride my bike to work in the rain and walk for hours, before dawn, below zero joyfully, to meditate with strangers, spontaneous belly-laughs issuing from ticklish, curious, solitary depths that no one shared. and now i rush from this to that, i run the heater, forget to sit, chasing scores of dancing […]
the warm, wet sidewalk makes my old shoes squeak a black cat guards a neglected garden the matte sky flattens houses into paintings almost spring. who notices?
laundry-scent piped into the street. the ozone- smell of arcing current somewhere couples with matching helmets biking at night my housemate’s midnight lamp-oil
orion poses nude above the naked trees, basking in the moon, sincerest of valentines. isn’t that you, psyche, still looking for your husband?