mmdccclv

she is writing through it in public
says closure happens for her through talking
                            —Stephanie Young

Do not put on others what you can put on your self.
                                          —John Ashbery

A drunk man mowing his lawn
somewhere in Florida was arr-
ested when he ran his lawn-
mower into a police vehicle.

He had more than three times
the legal limit of alcohol in
his system (to drive) and had
also apparently been doing

cocaine. I get my news from
late night talk shows, morn-
ing news and poetry books
that I can’t bring myself

to return to the public library;
I read what I love very slow-
ly, perhaps never to finish,
so that I can still be reading

it presently (I do this with
television shows that I love,
as well). I keep forgetting
to emerge from my small

box to venture around the
city in which I fought so
hard to remain. And it’s
hot as the dickens (as my

great-grandmother would
say) in my humble abode,
yet from my tiny forays
out of doors it has been

nothing but gorgeous
out. My weather. My city.
Maybe tomorrow. At
least being cooped in

all day and all night
has adjusted the pro-
blem with my (this)
long set of ramblings

(project) (a word I
used to hate using
in relation to poet-
ry). I lost every

single physical
thing which I had
accumulated in
half of a century

over the last two
years — except, as
it turns out, any-
thing digital. So

while my decades
of handwritten
journals or diaries
are now gone from

me forever (it isn’t
that sad, it turns out),
being a diligent dig-
ital hoarder for way

longer than the inter-
net, I possess every
bit of email corresp-
ondence since the

journals skipped town.
So, we repurpose; we
adjust accordingly. Sur-
vival, and all. (Note

to everyone but self:
a) change the rules as
often as daily; and b)
discipline, discipline!)