Song After Sadness

Despair is still servant to the violet and wild ongoings of bone. You, remember, are that which must be made servant only to salt, only to the watery acre that is the body of the beloved, only to the child leaning forward into the exhibit of birches the forest has made of bronze light and snow. Even as the day kneels forward, the oceans and strung garnets, too, kneel, they are all kneeling, the city, the goat, the lime tree and mother, the fearful doctor, kneeling. Don't say it's the beautiful I praise. I praise the human, gutted and rising. by Katie Ford

I started eating batteries because I thought they would give me energy and I liked the way they buzzed. But they are corroding inside me and eating me away. They don't give me energy, in fact they sap what I have and they don't even buzz anymore.
Note to self: Stop eating batteries.

What I Miss

wild onions, Queen Anne's lace, train tracks, grapes growing on a rock wall, rocks, ravines, forsythia, lilacs, roses and buttercups, hills, woods, ponds, lady slippers, drinking beer outside, that purple cool air that hits you just past Janosec's no matter how hot it is, 543, the dark, the stars.

On my mind