morn:
breakfast karaoke: Ben (makes me kind of feel like the guy in that Simpsons episode – the one Homer meets in prison who thinks he’s Michael Jackson… but hey! I just thought of it! Ben! You know!) (“Ben… the two of us need look no more/We…both found what we were looking for”)
two mocha smoothies
a smorgasbord of gummi sweets
one lemonade hard candy
afternoon:
hot chocolate with spoons of coffee in it
evening:
one half good belly probiotic mango drink
a cup of cherry-flavoured yogourt
one small glass Reynac with two maraschino cherries
ho-made guacamole with spelt crackers
small piece grilled Kobe steak (buttery. subtle.)
one grilled organic chicken skewer
spud with Maldon salt
sweetlet peas
petite salad – half raspberry, half miso
half cranberry half raspberry juice
bowl bigger than my head of sweet dark cherries
Jul 05, 10:53AM PDT | 2 cheers | 1 comment
morn:
breakfast karaoke: To Me You Are A Work of Art (“To me you are/A work of art/And I would give you my heart/That’s if I had one”)
two mocha smoothies
a brotherhood of gummi sweets
one pink lemonade hard candy
afternoon:
hot chocolate with a couple of spoons of coffee
evening:
one glass chardonnay
two pieces teriyaki sauced tofu
one cup fieldberry yogourt
half a good belly probiotic drink
Louisiana sauced organic chicken
risotto with leek, carrot, parsnip, spinach and cheddar
large petite raspberry salad
cranberry raspberry juice
sweetlet peas
Jul 04, 09:34PM PDT | 1 cheer | 1 comment
Your absence seems finite as though
You must turn up somewhere sooner
Or later, like a missing glove
Or a parachute blown awry.
In this absence I see fragments
Of you, motes and filaments, in
Places I look. It’s always you
Or your absence I see, colour
Or colourlessness, everything
Or nothing. Last weekend I watched
Boys launch model rockets in a
Field, saw a metaphor in the
Thin arc of the little paper
Cone that seemed to fizz its way to
The heavens in a split second.
I turned to you as though you were
Present: We could do that. You were
Not there so I could not tell you
More: This was my school. Here is the
Spot where I stretched out in June sun
Before class, a hat over my
Face. Here is the track. I was a
Sprinter. Here is faint graffiti,
There my initials, traceable.
Here are absences to match yours.
When the boys go I may find you.
Jul 04, 08:41AM PDT | 6 cheers | 3 comments
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