968

 

 

dough

there is always food
when the telephone rings
my hands knuckle-deep
a voice flat and distant

 

 

four and twenty — december 2011

 

966

 

saturday

wandering around the house
trying to remember
which room, what reason
words written in the air

 

 
four and twenty — december 2011

965

 

 

friday afternoon
the peacocks strutting
in snow

 

nahaiwrimo — light/dark

964

 

 

creek water slides across the road where it curves into a one-lane bridge. the peacocks are out, and it’s hard to tell which are leucistic and which are just covered with snow. I imagine their missing tail feathers, the unexpected white slowly melting into iridescent color.

 

 

963

 

 

I stop to get something I didn’t remember the day before. I forget why I‘m here, distracted by baba ganoush — it’s on sale. waiting to check out, I remember what I forgot and realize that I’ll have to come back again tomorrow because now I need pita bread, too.