september ... 2011 ...
my E l e c t r o n i
c pen ... the 2011 edition ...
September ended, October came
and with a (0), poots turns to the
always a blank page;
never a pen;
left, and right, the sun rises again
early to bed
earlier to rise
darkness, still, in the perimeter of the city.
PCIDSS problems, into the ether, bravely show you care
vaccinations for cancer now, choices, decisions
i wonder if it's harder becoming an adult, then, if you can
better become one
john denver still soothes me; i guess he always will
alone; again; i can recall the hours i spent with this
humming, turned to days, months, and even years now.
the names of those who followed me here; mostly crazy
i've said it a hundred times; the darkness, the fifty-eight
the distant - or not so distant -sound of airplanes through
the palest of dawns;
the feeling that something unknown and a bit scary might
always brings me back to LA.
so yes, years later, such a scary thing, is now nostalgic,
thanks god for that.
and now i'm conjugating in foreign tongues
Perhaps love is like a resting place
shelter from the storm
exists to give you comfort
is there to keep you warm
in those times of trouble
you are most alone
memory of love will bring you home
early to bed
early to rise
always bothered me
until i learned to work against my constitution
so thank you, kathrin
and hello world
all is well
another fuzzy head
i have friends again
who are men
are they less judging
- - - insert appropriate
'summer ending' phrase here - -
the heater, waking slowly the
first time, makes sounds of etincelles
and i'm reminded of obachaan,
as the irish whiskey works its' way.
one bent ear, a cold shoulder, and silence, lots, and lots, of
ears ringing through this
java back to normal,
poots body cycles,
it has good timing -
her mouth, chews.
clear morning, backspace, hit
mothers need love, too.
and what happened yesterday, happened.
there are times to move on - and that was one of them.
good girl, poots.
follow me around, everywhere but here, these days.
closing weather; the fall kind, greets us mornings
through the christmas lights
and i scour the floor for the mamoth crocs, watery
espresso in hand.
conceptually, is everything a concept, or, do they
i've asked this many times before of the
are we allowed to
make up our own mind?
consoling, chiding, cooperating, cohorting,
is staring straight ahead, now
erstwhile thoughts, notwithstanding.
clear automn dreams, running races, the
University, and Regina Reid, friends with
Mrs.Somebody or other, ladies Cynthia knew,
entirely made up by my subconscious.
the little one ran along the sidwalk with her
dog, she was kind, it was another time, and then
later, an older man had died and we gathered in
the kitchen at S's.
S told me, in her snippy way, not to drink the
any signs there, pat?
makes the morning, easier.
payday helps too.
however, stormy skies and pms greet an alone poot,
and the little one climbs down.
things change, in september, summer seems to end.
no one notified me, the calendar wasn't updated.
invisible is lonely, and can't recall what was
esconced, all of a sudden.
the mormon said, ask for a sign.
even Heisenberg knew that once you're looking,
everything's a sign.
sound of rumbling traffic before six am still
reminds me of california
sepulveda boulevard; LAX, and little sleepy el
the christmaslights jump out against the shadows
of the 16 degree trees, silouetted against a
perfectly orange hued morning sky.
beauty, don't forsake me...
the coffee is bitter;
poots is up early
poots is sick,
a french virus and PCIDSS
6:55 am -
- - sunny skies.
many shrinking, sinking, things
scant words, morning manhattan head
i used to lay bare questions here, a framework for my thoughts
"nowadays, i see your face, peering through the eye of a
nowadays, pictures of people's wives can be found in a click,
playlists can be arranged in seconds,
and chatting with my bonnie, is free, and easy
other people have dogs
7:16 pm -
- - where the weeks... they go.
evening manhattans through the christmas lights
darkness comes earlier
christmas will come
time hurdles forward
7:11 am -
- - do my forearms look 46?
different forms, surrounds me now
7:01 am -
- - calculations
scrapes along the smithsonian mug as i lift it quickly for
darkness clouds the sheers
a nine year old asks questions, comes to her own conclusions
the java is
weaker, when poots needs a strong one
bad pillows, warm stagnant early september air, followed me
from school one day
email, only bills; the sky, early september gray,
and poots? ... take another sip.
a calm has indeed invaded this life
pleasantly, floating around here,
a bit of feng shui ensues
physically sound, if for ringing ears,
no booze works.
hungover; hungup; hanging.
cohesion is not working today
journeys of love