the platitudes of willful resemblance

night full of sounds keeping my attention burned toward all windows and doors. Fireworks last night coming from the abandoned golf course/coyote home tempting nature to blaze a fire in the tall grass. I nearly roused myself to avoid the fitful turning and secluded in my writing room to answer letters and reach out to some who do not send letters.
I’d a poem in mind which needed writing and ended as a haiku last night – but may be expanded or not. Shortened possibly.
nightmares which I instantly recall in vivid color but cannot bring myself to verbalize here or in life. I long to sleep without bad dreaming and without attention to sound.

I listened to Jesus Christ Superstar remembering when I last saw this show. After, as I stood behind a woman in a beautiful fur coat (bunny I believe) smoking a cigarette – Somehow I managed to burn several holes through the fur to resemble a smiley face – I don’t know how that happened but it did, and that was the second time it happened to me. A number of people saw it but no-one said a word and all of them smiled.

I have a problem with people who don’t live in the extreme north wearing fur.

I’m a hypocrite as I wear leather shoes, belt and jacket – the jacket while I am riding the m/cycle. No-one has ever thrown blood on me but I don’t think I’d blame them.

good morning everyone – I’m going to bed now.

but it’s Saturday.

Two Am.

Shoulders tense, fingers missing a number of keys and the birds are not singing.

I cannot sing this early or late, normally I’d be singing or gesturing gutturally, but it is as stated, two Am.

It’s is difficult for me to watch the small calico cat shivering outside. Capturing her is a fate not intertwined with my family, there have been efforts, she likes the food we buy but not the warmth and carpeting.

I’ve somewhere to be eight hours, roughly, and I’ve no desire to back out.

At least the accustomed mood has lifted while the noise reasons.

I’ve yet to determine if I should post daily or as daily as I feel moved to. Either is accomplished with ease.

The Calico (Momma Kitty) perched on the railing, cleaning herself while the surfeit of raccoons have fits and theorize and chatter.

There are fucking raccoons – big ones – on my three season porch. it’s too late to fire a gun. Lucky fuckers.

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