The genius of the household
Pulled a sleeve
From the shelf
And placed it on the table

"Dance and sing
Get up and do your thing":

Ah, good

The flash of light
Towards the ceiling
Stuff quite lit
With a figure

In three years

On a yellow chair
I am uninterested in humanity
Instead of artifice

Moving clothes
From one area
I found a book bag

And in it
Some papers
And a brown paper bag

A small one
As for a sandwich

I touched and trembled

It reminded me of a behavior

A time for action

Using resources

I sat at the table happily coloring the outlines with a crayon. Years ago, I didn't enjoy this sort of task, as I would grab a color and jerkily drag it across the lines. As I filled in the space, each curve reflecting a nuance of another reverie, I felt like the entire world was there with me, and my sensation was tingly and warm.

He walked in and called my name. I was a bit startled. I did not want to raise my field of vision.

He asked: "Aren't you going to look at me?" 

I wanted to stay focused, fingers pressed on paper and moving. I felt like making an impression...I was going to be solid... I thought: why? It was, after all, the perfect moment to express.

I looked up, gently. He stood there, staring.

So see and then this guy
I actually sent this guy a message, an email instead of winking at him

We were looking for a bathroom
In this huge house
I really had to go

We walked by a door
And opened
A sound came out:

UGGGHHH... UGGGHHH... UGGGHHH...

But then my friend commented to me
It doesn't smell like shit





 

Spot on
Round thing
Super

Open Your Heart, Madonna. Opportunities (Let's Make Lots of Money), Pet Shop Boys. Opposites Attract, Paula Adbul.

How ya doin'?

Tranquilo

Eso es una mano

Eso es una mano así

La gente se inventa unas cosas

                                                          

On a day like this

I look at the sky

Like a stream, under bridges, concrete low

Splashing in shallow water, laughing

At the edges, vegetation, lush

Clean. Please take. Just not needed.

The other day, I was with Dominic at a check cashing place. He was getting a roll of quarters to do the laundry.

It was there I found this poem, on a small yellow flyer in a counter display...

THE HIDDEN CRY

What means this throbbing
in my breast?
This constant search for
peace and rest?
This loneliness I feel?

Even when I mingle with
the crowd
This aching void is deep
and loud;
Its cry is real! So real!

To have one moccasin
Skin side out
And the other skin side in
Would be considered unusual
Even by Native American standards