APRIL 14, 2024

cleaning house for your arrival,
i opened every window,
and it finally started to rain.

currently listening to:

the-mountain-goats_elijah.mp3

APRIL 12, 2024

bucket, pitcher, several cups.
tomorrow,
the taps run dry.

the moon,
a totuma,
high above bogotá.

when will the rain
spill over its sides?

currently listening to:

swans_our-love-lies.mp3

APRIL 10, 2024

the boy in my lap
it took him long enough
to come comfort me

currently listening to:

summoning_nightshade-forests.mp3

APRIL 8, 2024

sunlight, drought, and some other things.
always cordial with our
procurers.

the vaccuuming sounds beautiful
over the hammering,
and what's lost in the swamp is forever
fine.
"next next year in xixón!" we toast with
our taxes paid and
my eyes on a fixie.

small concerns —
believe me, i know —
of why and how and
what to eat

currently listening to:

ezra-furman_compulsive-liar.mp3

APRIL 6, 2024

umm...
a list of things to do,
i guess.

a party to plan.
we'll finally read
mrs. dalloway?

ancient greek burials
were at one time regulated
to combat extravagance,
the dead's honor proliferating,
eating into the living's

but we don't need much
and i think the shrine's a good idea
maybe incense
and those little bowls

currently listening to:

dry-cleaning_no-decent-shoes-for-rain.mp3

APRIL 4, 2024

i was telling you
about jesus,
how he walked around
after he died,

because you didn't know,

and you said to me,
"if you meet jesus on the road..."

currently listening to:

songs_-ohia_i_ve-been-riding-with-the-ghost.mp3

APRIL 2, 2024

i arrived home,
but the current wasn't there.
i crouched for many minutes
petting a cat.

living with you,
the house becomes a ouija board.

i don't know where the movement
comes from.

it just moves.

currently listening to:

the-angels-of-light_untitled-love-song.mp3

APRIL 1, 2024

another night
for you and me.

they've decided.

another night
of tinto campesino and
cars and a notable lack of weather.

the neighborhood
store looked so pretty at night,
you thought
as we passed.

and from now on,
(i think as you pass)
everything you leave behind
only belongs
more intensely to you

currently listening to:

fred-thomas_i-want-to-die-in-your-face.mp3