etching...

walked down the rose alley this evening. an arcade and bright. i refered to it as smelly. swift correct. scented. the man on the pavement looked at my chest. only because the red was there. he smiled. smelly? tipped my chin to force the shade down. i said smelly only it wasn't what i meant.

and now his enzyme is chipping the subscript. if he intended he left it. the eatery telepathic. somewhere he's galloping with a limp.

sucker.


in other news...

another flour sack emptied into the drum. another flour sack to be washed and converted. hooray!

found the cricket in times square. also the tale of the shining princess. he carried her home cupped in his hands, in just the way you would carry a baby bird....

and later he opened his hand to reveal nothing but bird-droppings....

now listening: joanna newsom--cassiopeia.

...and in store are dreams so daring
that the night can't stop from staring....