…in the cold hours of the pitched morning, adjoined by seamless posturing and horizontal allusions, a pleasant stiffness is already harboring incentives that are gaudy and wonderful in appearance-but truncated by an approaching Church’s bell- the intrigue of timbre and performance, composition decoded with a cipher that perpetually unearths cancellation and encourages residence, fronted by the ringer with no allegory to quell. Still, the tired leap is not enough to siphon a pillared escort into the soft halls of a reprimand, beyond the quiet black pages that keep our clouded pleasures tucked in, a tossing clemency, that used to be a subtle unevenness, is as close as we can get to returning the mislaid earnings of the caretaker- recreant of the acreage and the breeze-whirling sentiments and unripe innocence-wet paws, sticky trapeze. Our suspicions are circling, but the terrain is varied, and we cannot seem to make up the bumpiness of a staggered start. By the time one clears the low-bar, content with a heartbeat and a fleeing breath, uncovering reasons as to why all constructed wishes are immediately banished and petulantly waiting on the other side of the moon, the receptors have inched closer to the doldrums of wavy asphalt and the ospreys that feast with the priests at high noon. To you, I gift my sincere retraction of a proclaimed harvest, arousal in the red, sessions that spread, cautions that ignore your reasoning and lead you once again back to bed-, where similar protocols may for once grant a leap frogged rank and file-a pile, a style- the flexibility that comes from incoherent intervals and manicured plodding-subliminal tenderizing-that at the very least, needs to reconciled and reread.

July 7, 2012

“So today is the big day. Ted packed up the last of his suitcases and scampered out the door without even a hug to say goodbye. It’s just as well. If he knew what I was planning
he would do a lot more than just withhold affection. Then again, maybe he did know and this was a preemptive way of saying that he did not approve or that
he would deal with me when he got home.  But that’s Ted in a nutshell. Always pushing things off. It’s why I rarely get disciplined for knocking over flower vases or pulverizing unattended  treat bags.
He just cannot bring himself to deal with anything. If he did, he probably would have been married by now or running some prestigious company.  Instead, he is raising a
disobedient cat and managing an decrepit apartment complex.  God love him.”