a gusher
i slink off into the night, my eyes askance closing the door gently so as not to be heard after dreamfulls of drunken caresses, i return to my notebook guilt-wracked, and reeking of cinema
i slink off into the night, my eyes askance closing the door gently so as not to be heard after dreamfulls of drunken caresses, i return to my notebook guilt-wracked, and reeking of cinema
in the hour before my bedtime, when i’m looking back upon the day, depleted my housemate brings me a sweet, handmade by his mother with peanut butter and late-spring greens
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
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
grief: fills the bookshelves. keeps afloat a thousand occupations. weeded the flower tub today. is not to be avoided. is nothing if not reliable.