Stiff lip and upper

Up out of Jersey

As of late I sleep on trains. I wake on trains. I groan to them. I eat trains and wheel into the future on a track.

a bed of visitors

there were faces i hadn't seen for years here for a few days. and good faces. and good times with good faces.

i left a sounds like a pterodactyl on my phone late last night. if anyone had called, they would have heard mumbles "chiyildren...thank you..." and then the sound of a soaring dinosaur and then a beep. they could have left a message after that beep.

it's back to normal now. and i've got to get more bed in me.

lots of sending things out to hear a very quiet no. thank you.

tomorrow.

There is little kindness to the weather

but it snows and keeps the indoors, me with it. and sleep and sleep and sleepworking. walk to coffee but with a sour face the wind takes its way first, blows through me.

nickel and sparking. how angled the down falling snow comes up. beds in all the drifting. a whirl and comma to stop. step.

there the mailperson's steps get erased. cars in all of this, dreaming that fishtail into a snowbank. in 1993 with an empty flatbed truck and pj and bianchi, a block from jared's house. taking all the corners we could and each small explosion of white with hope another car or some other solid thing was not somewhere buried beneath these mounds. moguls.

errors in entry back to the world. after a slate of white streams over your head and everything seems soft as down. falling back to where you passed through it. a want for waterproofing.

this is the past.