I am on my back porch as it is a balmy 65 here in northern Illinois. This has been a hard, depressive year for me thus far and I cannot be surprised by my lack of posting, writing and doing anything productive in general.
I’ve read a lot.
Now I am reading less and starting to write more.
I have little to say. but I am enjoying the sun on my back porch, the sun on my face, the sun lying across my body. the wind through my beard and what little hair that is allowed to grow.
wind chimes are dissonant. Cage melodies without the artistic intent. satellite dishes make beautiful houses repugnant. trees look better fully dressed and ready for the rain.
fresh air serves me well, this is still winter but all signs of such have melted, receded into thirsty earth and now that I am out here – I am loathe to go back in.
that is all I have to say.
the platitudes of willful resemblance 
say something