Piano

Someone's playing piano,
recalling school days
Running home up a steep street,
late for practice; the childhood
envisioned but unlived
by the listener.

This is the last night I'll ever do this –
here, in this room, out this window.

The trees know.
They sit staring,
awaiting the change.

Make America Grate Again

The main component missing from most reporting, and many conversations, about people without homes, 40% of whom are employed, some of whom live in their cars versus at encampments, is the people without homes, which tells you everything about why these conversations are so often not based in reality, or fail to reflect any semblance now of empathy.

Instead, these homeless stories seem to function as parables for the dull-minded to exalt themselves or something, or maybe to show how their unhappiness is the fault of someone else, someone worse off than them (rather than the wealthy running the society into the ground for personal profit and/or for funskies, cough), and someone without a voice makes a great scapegoat, after all: 

Make America grate again.

Comma, thanks.

How do we decouple craft and work from office-centered employment altogether?

I mean, us non-office lovers have been patient, but to what end at this point? I cannot tell

you the trouble I have encountered via certain extracurricular activities from coworkers and managers these past four or so centuries—I mean, years—misanthropies

masquerading as efficiencies—and I'm fortunate in that I've had solid work experiences before and now after that, which is not the norm from all that I'm hearing and

all that I'm not adapting to, preferring

mental health and a constructive disposition, thanks.

Poetics: Set Aside Some Time: Laugh

New York, my 30s:

How to Feel Productive: Set aside some time Saturday morning to fix a few broken things that are, as of this writing, still broken.

My weed guy works in the same building as Ron Kuby! I'm excited for both of us.

My realtors keep sending me these “Kindly send your renewal” letters, oh how I laugh