You have the transfixed gaze. It's not for me. I put my hands in the dirt and felt my childhood there. Now I can't bother to rest ( Read more... )

These idle notions will have their way with me.
I'm way too good at convincing myself to stay in bed.

I purchased the train tickets via internet,
I spoke with my father about having us stay in the "river house" as P & M call the farm,
I finished my damn information technology proficiency bullocks,

Oh. And. There's as much caffiene pumping through my system as there was in Gordon's
when he played drums. Now that's an accomplishment ( Read more... )

Can you feel that?

(in your dry bones)

that sense. that any day now...
peace is going to BREAK OUT

A SHORT POEM IN ANTICIPATION OF SPRING BREAK
(everything is better broken, you know, it gives character)

A new "stress-relief" book by David L. Mocknick of Philadelphia, called "Who's Fred, Ha!" (described in December in New York's Newsday), prescribes a game based on the German name Frederick, which Mocknick said has curative powers. A stressed person listens out in public for words that rhyme with Fred, and hearing one (e.g., dead), he says, "Dead! ( Read more... )

I sent everyone postcards. By everyone, I mean, like, 8 people. I would never have enough stamps. Give me your address so I can molest you too ( Read more... )

What if there was no time? I don't want to do any of this ( Read more... )

"no poem full of vitamins ( Read more... )

Pickle and chips:

( The Big Suck )

I like the smell of wood burning ( Read more... )