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.