12/18/24 (key through a crack in the floor)

No such thing as a good poem but there is a great poem, possibly, one that discovers as much as shakes that constant feeling of something more being needed. Shakes until the vase at the top of the shelf shakes back and forth tips over the edge and back towards the wall, what will happen?

I wrote off Snyder too quickly, did not like Turtle Island, do enjoy Myths and Text and his letters from those great watch towers of the Cascades. I liked this one even before I found out it was with Baraka’s press, which obviously made me like it more. To be the hippy PNW poet published by Baraka is cool! When did Snyder go to New York? When did Baraka come to Seattle?

My dad watches Spanish TV in the other room, it is dark right up against the windows until I turn the inside lights off, then only deep shadows in the night.

What is the radio from the song is better than the song?

I lean into switching my phone to do not disturb once past 8PM.

He organizes his books by size, stuffs doubles in the space behind the row. He remains present tense.

At the end of the day I start searching for something to fill the void. Most days are spent staying busy to not think about it or feel it. Hoping to be prepared once I get to the point of craving (raving).

My feed as a microsom of how things work. I will always see more of what I focus on. And once I see the particular thing I can not un see it.

I cook differently in different kitchens, write differently in different rooms.

Chapelle says the first years are spent chasing your influences and the later years are spent running from them. I would take talking to them for more points.

Your envelopes have been sent. A mixture of collage with some small choices to establish a direction. The streets I am remembering on but don’t know how to get there, the same goes for the house parties, basketball shorts, and kisses in the top floor bathroom to cheering.