(This apparently never got posted. Whoops!)
Open travel mug. Discover hobo spider. Close travel mug.
In truth it was probably not a real hobo spider just another viscous looking fangly spider.
Everyone claims they have bizarre weather. We do too. Right now the sun is shining and it is raining on a diagonal. The clouds that dropped the rain moved from overhead probably half an hour ago but they are so high that it takes that long for the rain to fall. Likewise when a rain cloud is over head dumping rain it isnt necessarily raining. When it gets particularly dry the rain and snow will evaporate before or as soon as they hit so you can stand in the rain and not get wet.
My phone keeps getting itself confused and bumping in to 2 time zones at the same time. At least one is consistently right.
Friday, June 22, 2012
Words...
Cleaning Out the Attic
Union Hill, 6/22/12 0415
Minutes past the middle of the morning
Or the middle of an hour
Midway through the middle of the night
And the minutia has been gathering
As I sort through all the usta was
Bits of a paper person
Who she is and what she does
From pay stub to receipt
This is who I am supposed to be
I have forced my mind to focus
On each scrap of paper
Saved like shards of a broken heart
Collected over years
In cardboard boxes
And moved from state to state
Kept with me, kept close, kept safe
As if to prove that I was here
And all of this was really real
That period of fuzzy perception and diffuse pain
Is suddenly become clear again
The love seat beside me is littered
With letters from old lovers
And saved stamps from international mail
And the pile to file grows
While the garbage overflows
And I’ve got a long way to go
But I’m beyond the point of caring
I’ve caught myself staring off
Into the space between the molecules of air
Still, I’ve stopped myself from reading
The cards that I know will bring tears
But photographs are less concealed
Memories of past selves revealed
Ready or not, they come
Fodder to feed an evil dream on
If I should pass that way
When I finally slip into my subconscious
And I will know soon enough, if only because
I’m losing the battle against my eyelids
Union Hill, 6/22/12 0415
Minutes past the middle of the morning
Or the middle of an hour
Midway through the middle of the night
And the minutia has been gathering
As I sort through all the usta was
Bits of a paper person
Who she is and what she does
From pay stub to receipt
This is who I am supposed to be
I have forced my mind to focus
On each scrap of paper
Saved like shards of a broken heart
Collected over years
In cardboard boxes
And moved from state to state
Kept with me, kept close, kept safe
As if to prove that I was here
And all of this was really real
That period of fuzzy perception and diffuse pain
Is suddenly become clear again
The love seat beside me is littered
With letters from old lovers
And saved stamps from international mail
And the pile to file grows
While the garbage overflows
And I’ve got a long way to go
But I’m beyond the point of caring
I’ve caught myself staring off
Into the space between the molecules of air
Still, I’ve stopped myself from reading
The cards that I know will bring tears
But photographs are less concealed
Memories of past selves revealed
Ready or not, they come
Fodder to feed an evil dream on
If I should pass that way
When I finally slip into my subconscious
And I will know soon enough, if only because
I’m losing the battle against my eyelids
Friday, June 15, 2012
The Twinkie story has been published.
http://www.gordon.edu/article.cfm?iArticleID=1295&iReferrerPageID=1676&iPrevCatID=134&bLive=1
I need like 10 copies for my grandchildrens' grandchildren... or something.
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