dear person,

as you know, we have melted. i don't know.

i feel okay. 

the moon looks like a fingernail, i'm not tired, lonely, cold, broke, or unemployed. 

my ipod has full battery.

it's not that these things represent my essence most,

it's that there is something inside of me that wants

me to expand.

i'd reinsulate the rotted supports.

i don't know why i was there in the first place.

termites, and i ignored them.

please return. the family thinks of you. 

i know just how hungry you are. 

a marching band dapples just such unknown spaces

their pulse in the scientific avenues

is that their cities create artificial air

certain artists intuitively rain in these willow orchards

while turbines exhaust oxygen into the low level tunnels

the crickets feel it's snowing

a hollow sound comes through the bed

the city goes black

the roof hears dreary people

rippling through the elevated trains

slashes fall that skid

slits of coconut milk

unknown giraffe vision

reacts within the zoo

already scraped away from the shutters

why do they rattle affirming or improve?

the underworld efferent by the subway

no, the real world.

my baby is in quotations.

it's just that it's so late 

and stupid and scary

that i couldn't say anything

so i'll close the brief case (i think)

and there's some road zipping by

the lights are still showing

the underworld

practicing sentence structure resurfaces the subjective

i discovered my philosophy black bear in the canopy

steep graded we're played out

i look at my journal and feel anger garbage

for the feeling of throwing something out

my poem, with the bear mauling us, fails.

i wrote it once, in my journal and didn't work on it.

feeling tired so i don't have to think is good.

making myself tired by thinking is good.

i keep getting interrupted because i'm at work.

if i weren't at work i'd do something to stop the interruptions.

i'm going to spend time getting interruptions out of the way.