a commonplace book

I’m calling you because I could really use a friend. (Yet I don’t call, and we don’t

OUR BODIES SUN & SUPPLE, BIG BLUE ROOM NUISANCE. GAMES WERE MADE CLIMB AND RUN AGAIN. WE LIVED OUR LIVES;

+++ the sound of the rain battering on the roof & dripping down the chimney – the ocean, right outside our window

a billion suns this body was once a thousand miles old a hundred feathers wide an infinite teardrop deep. one

in this brief half life spring the morning feels delicious/all wounds explained here, all hurts let fall, all knives

You are not a troubled guest on this earth, you are not an accident amidst other accidents you were invited

I am a factory of wishes; my conveyor belt full of fierce possibility. Dust follows my silhouette: catching the light,

artisan roast, broughton st +++ Take sweet peppers, red ones are fine, orange acceptable. Hold skins to direct heat – driftwood flame

* the workshop * the blueprints * the coveralls * the boxes of parts * the welder * the nuts and bolts * the elbow grease * the

The Far Field (I) I dream of journeys repeatedly: Of flying like a bat deep into a narrowing tunnel Of