If I am repaired, can we meet again for the first time, in all of the places I have feared to go, and then, again, in all of the places I will have forgotten, if I am repaired?



Sunday, August 1, 2010


     the Johnson grass and Queen Anne’s Lace: long, overgrown, and wind-blown. Chin palmed, I feel my pulse, strong in my neck, and can’t help but marvel how we are all from seed, how we all strive only to cover the Earth, to be remembered.


  1. broken, idle lawnmower: overgrown with St Augustine going to seed tickles my bare legs as I walk holding the last tomato of summer. I can feel it's pulse in my hand.

  2. No no no. I have no desire to cover the earth or be remembered. And I don't feel pules in tomatoes. I turned off my lawn sprinklers this year because I can't afford the water bill. Guess what? I didn't have to mow!


Feel free...