"My record does not contain the helicopter dream I’ve been having for ten years/where I’m an actor paid by the government to fake a zombie epidemic."

Untitled One

Motherhood slept astonished as astronomers wept so-so-ago with this sort of blow. This sort of ovary, yo, the story being if thrown into something sombrous, spokes-of-light, it

Tara and I were impressed by the Goth subculture Goth Ryan and Tara’s boyfriend took part in not just because of the black strappy clothes, black fingernails, and heavy eye makeup (which we immediately began imitating), but also their directness and openness about feelings of sadness and rottenness. 

Faced with the swirling chaos of three days ago, I must hold fast to certain truths. 

But I think of you this way anyway, your bright corona blinding my eyes. 

Someone is in trouble! Should I be running toward danger?

I've been taking what feels like a giant amount of vitamins for approximately three days, which is a long time for me to do anything very consistently. 

How do two cultural dynamos get away with never reading?

Not belonging feels more and more like banging a rough cookie on the counter these days. I would take pride in my crumbs, if I knew how. It’s good to be alive like a delinquent spaz.

When you leave the comment that I am "such a good mom"
under a picture I have posted of my child online,
it freaks me out.
You haven't seen me in over twenty years,
and have never met

I know you toss out untouched leftovers, and miss them.

Places that will not want
You, strike hooves below the earth.
Fur-breathed, and winter friendly—

Cider and hot baths,
Like consolation, cool
Off fast. Why, Kafka,

Have I had

I realized that my son’s vocabulary, though impressive, would not help much with anything he was likely to encounter in everyday life, now or in the future.

Flying is dangerous, Lydia. I don't want to die today, do you? 
I guess not.

Sean Astin is ready for a break. Time to take a load off. Put up his hairy, latex feet. Empty his pockets of Lembas bread and Elven rope and cozy up next to the fire. Join the other Hobbits down

Is there anything more adorable than a drunk toddler? I don’t mean a slurring, stumbling, falling down, cursing toddler, though we often enough found ourselves in that state, but an evenly buzzed toddler, whose mother can offset whiskey intake with soothing butter, maintaining her toddler’s perfect, moderate drunkenness.

Another family story. I can’t get away from it. As Easter approaches, I find myself thinking about one of my aunts who, when it came to transportation, had only known the transportations of

1.         board the T heading downtown to get to the swan pond / check your phone absently / remember
            how so many people needed your attention last month that it made you want to

I love it when I’m speeding and then again I love it when I crash.

I am remembering it wrong but do not care.

If Conlon wasn’t busy composing music for the player piano, he spent his time mulling over cryptic scenarios that provoked his interest; for instance, how a boat made out of paper illustrated to resemble wood looks like a boat made out of wood.

Oh, sheesh! ... What the heck?

I created my own Rube Goldberg machine!

She glances into a pocket mirror. She is WIFE now. She doesn’t need to go through her lines, she’s been doing this for years.

Kentucky Swami

(For Tim Skeen)

                         "Poetry / makes nothing happen" –Auden

                        "yet men die miserably every day / 
                        for