crossing missouri in three hours viainterstate 70 fromthe driver’s seatis a blurred ribbonof steel & asphaltslicing betweenmeth & reality

one monthof postingthese scribbles& notes inthe ether &all I have toshow for itis a few extrastray electrons

microwave eggsdon’t taste likepowdered eggswhich is goodI guess becausewhy would youwant to eathot powder?

summer breeze:skin sweats beneathmosquito hover

go with the clichéfor father’s day:grill, tie, blood test

the corpseis alwaysthe life ofthe partyat a funeral

hello again it’s methat head cold youthought had longsince said goodbyenever to make its wayback to this partof the country againbut surprise! here I amat the doorstep of yournasal cavity begging fora place to crash for a fewdays—mind if I crash onthe couch & […]

the dronedroppedits payloadhigh abovethe Afghandesert, analgorithmcalculating wholives or diesbeneaththe all-seeingeyes ofsatellitesswapping badjokes in binary,a reddit postgone wilddisruptingthe workof ourrobotoverlords:see whatterror setsin motion,a goldbergmachine ofplanes &towers &fear & anger& platoons& isn’t thatthe way it goesuntil someonefinally says enough& funny howit’s neverwho you expect& of courseall […]

it’s thursdaywhich ofcourse meanswe made itthrough thefirst partof anothershitty weekso only twomore daysto go untilwe get todo it againbut this timewith feeling

the screenbleary-blurrybefore breakfastI stumble throughnews of war &rumors of warwhile my catlicks & pondershis ass &isn’t thisthe plightof ourexistence

lemon is notthe cure foreverythingfrom waxbuild-up tosore throatsto sink de-greaser butdamn if itdoesn’t makesugar watertaste damn good

the sky this evening was something else a rutabaga perhaps or an elephant trumpeting joy in pink swaths or candy floss sticky sweet & empty yet satisfying as all midwestern things can be

the summer stormswept in from the southwith winds whippingtrees to fury;a duck’s hiss of hailpummeling us to safety what unexpected luckto find the greyed lean-toin the middle of the woodyour hair a mess of wetstuck to your forehead,your t-shirt clinginglike the old flameI would […]

sometimes a gooseis just a goosebut sometimesit’s a murderbotso don’t stopthe car, gary