today I challenged my self to write a sonnet in 5 minutes. it took 7.

begin among the pardoned peoples place
without or with a continent of form
around the outside condensations pace
again and tarry accidental worm
treetops and crops will stagger to their floor
or ceiling whether don miguels restraint
provides a candle-lit beguiling door
that opens to a canvas made of paint
reach further, casual, and missing eyes
for all the time a man with inches cries
the stain of thinking kills a sense of film
which made to capture, stings instead the guise
the latest most intended to arrive
began before the staff begat the knife

beat control

picking you up from the airport

Porch Face

As I sit on my shaded front porch
next to the water-marked fence,
a sniffing dog -Ignatius-,
roaming cockroaches,
busy spiders -Charlotte?-,
and fading fern plants,

I notice the heat;
mostly, the sweat
falling from my hairline
down my forehead
over the bridge of my nose,
through my lips,
and falling off my cliffed chin.

I wave to my neighbor,
as she walks past my world,
walking her tiny rat-dog.
She sweats, too, and
marks the world with her Yankee scent.

Then, as the heat begins to get to my head--
the sweat no longer cooling it down—
my mind starts to drift, fall, and walk on it’s own.
It staggers, like a drunk man on the street.
It holds itself up with a street pole or park bench,
whichever is closer.
It focuses on material things for orientation.
Steady, steady; one foot in front of the other.
It attempts to juggle but falters,
hesitates,
and returns to comfortable themes:
love is all, music is love, and
everything is everything.

to my fellow darshes

life is good, keep on shufflin'.

august is among us, let's give it a hug.

i've been at peace with my handwriting.

and things are taken care of when you sort it out.


all my love,
jerk

teengirl fantasy- portofino

a song you'll surely enjoy:

















download the full EP here.

yocab: aug 1

FUBINY

TRAELSEDON

LATIFRE