early evening early in the death thinking about death all day the video game deaths I played the music death all the death TV shows the same even if they try to death it my back still sore but better death than the dog deaths her new toy

and no I never did get around to that I gave up on connection and went down paths they warned me about to make blurred photocopies of those same mistakes my hands stumbling fat then thin leaves fell and grew the early sun in winter faithfully rendered in Minecraft reddened the tips of things in a neighborhood or that or this heavy frenemy in my chest sometimes makes his strange will speak

do I admit shamefully sheepishly that I love the stream of music video podcast my phone tablet computer can provide the immersion in old loves missed opportunities new lush lands to be lost in but why not what’s better for those of us who lose the thread so quickly what was that Pavement tune that Philip glass bit I love but maybe I’m getting too Prozac I mean prosaic I think maybe now anyway all the hints can drive you mad you think they’re heading somewhere but one turn around the lake and we’re back at the front door unkissed

I am a dog walker I am cooking beans I am the misprint in the formula I am heavy snow at night the scrape of the plow I am bored and ashamed of my boredom I am eating cashews pecans sunflower seeds I am a deer of seven tines I am the sluggish pulse I am a new sound in the deep forest just once I am an empty bag of highly flavored corn chips by the off ramp I am the mistake that leads to greatness I am a wave breaking on dark rock I am a wave breaking on sand

Weekend in PA

Broad Street Market Harrisburg

Amazon FedEx Ground Crispy Chicken Strips Mazda Subaru Chevy Hyundai UPS day lilies widening the highway tree stumps deer on its side judging mind Ford Tesla Rocky Mountain Chocolate Toyota traffic slow for no seen reason sedan SUV truck sedan sedan SUV I’m a lucky man to live in my building SUV SUV truck tired left turn off the highway narrow streets crawl for parking low-grade worry red brick humid cigarette scent black raspberries cherries fat ginger root sunflower seeds dried kiwi cherubic girl in a white bonnet unsmiling all out of sea moss smoothies and some other kind I don’t care about peanut butter cups in unimagined combinations melting Indian Bangladesh African Korean Burmese wish I had skipped breakfast huge sharp fans in the ceiling whole fish cut fish sweet corn and bean stew sweet potato noodles summer rolls three ways rice cakes canned boba LGBTQI espresso oatmeal and molasses and white chocolate chunk and monster cookies thick radishes chunky carrots kale and chard crisp stand at attention third planet is sure it’s being watched hot half sour dill pickles pickled garlic canned pear peach salmon and coconut and toasted cheese and peanut butter and sweet potato and grain-free dog biscuits outside cooler air still singing

after lunch the next day

the shine of my copper pen a bluebird chasing a chickadee from the white birdhouse rabbit crouching low as I walk the dog doesn’t see her then speeding away street corn flatbread Harvest Grill s’mores dessert cup rows of daylilies again and again by homes the side of the highway the forest ripe raspberries tattooed lady selling dog treats smiling my back not hurting too much helping mom set up for the food bank distribution with Rachael volunteering us the folks enjoying the nuts nut butter dried jackfruit we brought down telling and hearing the same stories seeing dad improved some of Lori’s bread for breakfast sleeping better the second night they’re still using the bidet seat I recommended yesterday getting down on a single charge glad the folks watch less network news finding some old books to read once or again getting some decent writing done

back home from the old home

a dog barking in the complex nonstop for how long now why does it bother me so much why does it jump inside and start barking at my heart split my head but I hope that dog has a good life what else can I do what would it be like if I could control all the dogs in my heart somehow worse I’m sure am I sad to leave the folks 200 miles away with no career in the north am I worried about my own creeping doom inferred from their eyes am I ripping someone off talking like this but who I can’t remember might as well write some more right and then the neighbor on the other side of the wall music for hours bass thud you can hear commercials this guy still listens to commercial radio I shouldn’t judge what does it matter but why not use headphones still I don’t know his whys and whatevers fucking autocorrect why can’t there be silence when I want it and something else when I want something else but that’s a child’s mind I know but I can say what I want does venting help or does it dig the hole well deeper well

Reading Tender Buttons always just about to make sense a half-learned a real language you can still laugh like kindergarten maybe or waking from a dream having to pee you guess what Susie Asado looked like from the tea maybe maybe maybe tea maybe not maybe it’s all too sexy a stupid man like me will never understand and I am as mutton I know she’s from a different book but so what if it rhymes like butter falling off bread to glow too glow wait where are you going are we going don’t tell me don’t tell anyone the secret keeps the bread fresh the glass hurt

still searching for the new sound for so long that the trees we planted in the wild days have made it to the other side of the desert and at night we hear heavy fruit drop sonorous into still water but this is not enough there is still a hair unreachable in the throat in the morning we find the ruins of another city it must have been spectacular with those stones in the sky

In the morning you can reach out and see on the breeze in the mind the damp stone tightening straps keep him in place the pain in his cell the confession conversion meaningless at this point or the life by the sea rough stone grey the children I pushed through and lined up in the earth and the cliffs so beautiful lonely one time one town on the frontier barely built I can still smell new cut wood that simple home sun creeping through seams in the wall another sunny place warm weather sweet breeze always fetching writing down his many thoughts the wine was good