The fence falls over, wind rattles the house
Baking bread and the oven door groans
Don’t worry little dog, it’s just the entropy blues
**
Walking in a light rain
The word “cauterize” hits me
As in “cauterize” the poetry feet
**
My maternal grandfather built some of America’s first motor cycles and motor cars. He was wild. He aimed a shotgun at a porcupine and shot himself in the head. He said: “ricochet—just a flesh wound…”
**
Blind why do I like dusk so much?
Why does ether love morphine?
**
American happiness is a strange addiction, washed with medical narratives with their political and commercial directives to overcome what ails you, but you see, the psyche knows all along you can’t live that way.
**
Just the entropy blues
Good morning how are you?
Planet of the Blind 