3am

3am. alive and well. technology

my friend at last 4
i can telework

my cats bunny and mouse
my copilots. so excited they woke me up too early

fuck it. coffee on the stove

what more can i ask?
i am in love

if not for this intractable pandemic
reality is like a little child held up

high to the sky after

the big kiss

evenin@home

the inflections
broadcast on
national radio
fatigued she lay
on the bed and he
in the chair

boots long kicked

to the floor

hallway sniffed about by cats

turn themselves before the
stove. volumes
on the bookshelf
 the sun’s last light
dead. on underbellies
of palm fronds

more space guesswork

Andromeda did not mind about the light years gone missing. Saturn or some body in space was happy to harbor them but they sure took their time arriving. Watch out you might get fractal off the rings, or maybe that’s what was supposed to happen. I always cut up my years into months and smaller increments. I bake them in a pan and they come out all seasonal. That way kids know when they go bad, not to eat them. Andromeda takes them back when we send them, and turns them into meteor showers, the galaxy to exfoliate. Deep space is the safest place around, minimal pollution, air and sound. I wanna go there when my world fails me. I cannot stand the anxiety. Earth looks good from the outside, but just try burning through the atmosphere; you will soon discover it wasn’t worth it. Sorry to let you down and all.

to the lighthouse cat by kat

greenblue

goodbye sweet moment

lying in the light of a summer morning

California

readying myself for whatever highs and lows the day may bring. making conscious contact. watching my kittens thirst by their eyes for the birds. drawing back the peaks of audio. tails move side to side with the eyes

these eyes are emerald

these eyes are amber

mine are greenblue…

sending this message to space