one thing today

  I can be having a for sure blah kind of day and then walk home from the market and see a young kid, maybe 14 with so much style drenching him - a black cardigan with big sloppy white blobs all over it and a white dress shirt buttoned at the neck and baggy light blue colored jeans - and think, gee, I bet he looks that cool and singular everyday and I love seeing him and more on the streets where I live.   And before him, maybe the most beautiful arms I’ve ever encountered. Lightly muscled, long, sinewy, a tasty autumnal brown hue. I almost told the guy what I was thinking but then thought not. He was carrying pruning shears and maybe if it was my bad luck that he was a creep, he could lunge them into me. But alas, he unlocked the gat eto the pocket park behind the library and walked into he greenhouse that I’ve coveted for years.  

  “People have made a lot of stuff about the   Horses   cover. But a lot of what we do is bred on innocence. How people interpret it is up to them. I thought of myself as a poet and a performer, and so how did I dress? I didn’t have much money; I liked to dress like Baudelaire. I looked at a picture of him and he was dressed, like, with this ribbon or tie and a white shirt. I wasn’t thinking that I was going to break any boundaries. I just like dressing like Baudelaire... I know people would like to think that we got together to break boundaries of politics and gender, but we didn’t really have time for that. We were really too busy trying to pull enough money together to buy lunch.” Clive Davis, the founder and president of Arista records, however, was appalled by the image, and pleaded with Smith to change her mind about using it. He objected to her unkempt hair, lack of make-up and man’s tie. He was also, reportedly, critical of the trace of facial hair on Smith’s uppe...

Don't let us get sick Don't let us get old Don't let us get stupid, alright? Just make us be brave And make us play nice And let us be together tonight."                                                                                                              -Warren Zevon

  August Lizette Woodworth Reese No wind, no bird. The river flames like brass. On either side, smitten as with a spell Of silence, brood the fields. In the deep grass, Edging the dusty roads, lie as they fell Handfuls of shriveled leaves from tree and bush. But ’long the orchard fence and at the gate, Thrusting their saffron torches through the hush, Wild lilies blaze, and bees hum soon and late. Rust-colored the tall straggling briar, not one Rose left. The spider sets its loom up there Close to the roots, and spins out in the sun A silken web from twig to twig. The air Is full of hot rank scents. Upon the hill Drifts the noon’s single cloud, white, glaring, still.

halloween - the sweetest kids at my door - timeless beauty & joy a missive, finally, from my oldest sister who is terribly depressed and dealing with pain and hopelessness on my way home from the library I lost two books the noise from the parade was horrible until almost 11 I feel like all my wires are frayed at the ends

PREZ PIG TALKS ABOUT A 3RD TERM AMAZON AND UPS FIRE 50K THANKS TO AI COVID, HERPES AND HEP C INFECTED RESEARCH MONKEYS ARE RUNNING FREE ROUND SOME SOUTHERN HIGHWAY CITY SIRENS ARE LOUDER THAN EVER BECAUSE OF EAR BUDS AND SO IT GOES WITH MUCHO MAS AHEAD