the platitudes of willful resemblance

Past midnight and can’t get to sleep for some reason. It seems that the insomnia is creeping back into my life. It’s like an old friend that you never miss when your medicated enough to make them disappear. I’ve given up a med in favor of vividness. I once gave up women in favor of happiness but that never seemed to work out, that is until I met my wife – then I gave up being a tramp in favor of support, happiness, love, companionship and this list could really go on and on and I am not in that kind of mood. I don’t remember why I gave up illicit drugs but I recall that I gave up drinking partially because I wanted to smell better.
I still write about that time of my existence as it seems to be a well of memories that I occasionally get a glimpse of.
I haven’t written a new poem in two months. I’ve written parts of long poems and have been working on them here and there. I say long poems and really I should say longer poems. I’ve yet to write anything that spans more than 5 pages.  I keep telling myself that I need to chain my leg to the typewriter’s desk and not leave it until I’ve come up with the solution to the worlds ills or another few poems I can proudly share. This is not the longest that I’ve been in a creative drought – I was in one that lasted about four years and I hope to never return to that unhappiness.
some days I think that if I cut off my pinkie finger that the words will resurface. but then I remember that it would be awfully hard to type the ‘a’, ‘q’ and ‘shift’ keys and I do enjoy having ten fingers when I play music, masturbate or make love.

falling leaves:
      magnificent!
whose illusion? 

  – Hoc Scripsi

it’s strange to think of how fast the leaves are changing color now, even stranger to look out the back yard and see a tree felled by the wind. I have yet to decide what I am going to do with it and I might just leave it alone and watch over the next thirty years it slowly become dirt. Besides, the raccoons need another place to live other than under my porch. Maybe my lost cat will find a home in it’s hollowed out core.
It was an oak, about fifty years old. It took out two or three other trees as far as I can tell. They were much younger – ten to twenty years.
I should clarify that this is not on the main part of the property but in the wooded area so it wont be an eye sore to allow it to be until nature takes it’s course.
the yard isn’t as large as that statement makes it sound. I do live in a palace but that is only seen through my eyes – as the beholder I am prone to this types of allusions. My neighbors see a house, yard and a fuck lot of trees, well, a few less now I guess.

shameless plug follows: Don’t forget that the book is available from Amazon.com and other fine retailers!
I encourage all readers to write reviews, get their friends to buy a copy, get their library to buy a copy, buy copies…
okay, I’m done now.