First Thoughts, Best Thoughts
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Bird song in early snow and I’m on a journey.
I was a middling boy who loved Jules Verne.
I’m piloting a snow submarine with birds for a crew.
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By some unestablished rule some event may have hurled its first “yes” at other events causing discrete happiness for unsuspecting people.
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I am old. I like it. I feel snappy in my post-diluvian world.
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Met once at a Finnish monastery a monk who was 100 years old. We were in the sauna. His sweat smelled like strawberries.
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I’m loosely arranged on a salad of calendar pages.
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Goddess of underlings, roll your sexy wheelchair!
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Hilarity beyond the constellations, but “no religion too” —thank you Mr. John Lennon…
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The isotherm of galloping winter brain. Let’s sneak around and knock on the neighbors’ windows!
Planet of the Blind 