After a long shake away I’m going to try this again. Only a few new pieces since moving to Kansas, and  a broken scanner doesn’t help matters. But while it’s true that “there’s always a last time”, there are also plenty of songs about reincarnation, and what good is reincarnation if you’re dead all the time? Spring is coming, and we have lots of work to do on our garden.

Thankful for today, tomorrow and everything the next few days have in store.

After a week of self-mummification, a weekend like this — complete with practice, pesto mistakes, and non-collapsible happiness courtesy of a lovely wife — is all bandaged boy needs.

Pressed down for days with sinuses spiraling, rarely leaving the couch,

but with E’s care and tincture I half feel like an astronaut.

I’m trying to shake the bullshit moaning on mouth-to-mud mornings
and come to a pulverizing and gentle, logical conclusion.

Documented evidence copter-lifted over waters and sidewalk
proves the claim of birth by burst of laughter.

…And we bank it, shares thud the blank and leverage once poured into bladders, poured trickling interest rates, common hope and pores pour for the saint-thankers and their aspirants.

Somewhat cactus and craft-head on the sofa tackling the drawbacks, garnering raves and zeroes.

More alive for having lost the race.

Trying to awaken from the sleep of traffic in underdeveloped countries.