the day is cold
i sew around paper hearts
thing of green things
fresh twigs
and rays of sun
you are in a cocophany of noise
mr. arrington, mr. arrington
and i send you psychic love notes
that the puppy hasn't yet chewed
just when you attain a good stretch
i notice the need for a further stretch occurs
i have hot chocolate in the cupboard
and a daughter in the school up the road
i have a brother,
a sister
a mother
this is my family
and my husband jay of course
to day is monday
and i am left to my own devices
playing with a box of watercolour crayons
and sewing thread, and love hearts
i turn on the television while eatting the orange sun
and hear bits of words and images of famous people
and then i turn them all off
and see that the walls talk
if you listen closely
and the paint that is peeling in the bathroom
is really a portal to another world
these are thoughts i think
when left to my own devices
with balls of string
and a kitty in her basement apartment named flora
sweet
full
underneath the cracks in the sidewalk
the icy bits and pieces of outside
the red checks that leave their mark
under ground
inside
warmth
hearts
veins
pus
and stuff that makes me stop
and
go
Monday, February 05, 2007
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