Indistinguishable noise. Critical reception
was mediocre and verged on political even
though he was not trying to be political.
Fuck work all hail poetry, etc.
Right now achy, stuffy, coughy, sore
throaty, sitting at Peet’s in Laurel
Heights thinking about last night’s
thunderstorms around 4am I think.
In bed with transition. Something
squeezable yet reduced to a pulp,
great fun, hugs, I should have
loved you more. How come
when history begins it’s
just not clear? Kick yourself.
