I welcomed a guest in this morning. Cool air.In the night, it stormed.How do I know besides? Digital time’s wrong,meaning power flashed off-on,and it’s drenched outside.Soporific storm-blessed, I got 12 horizontal hours;that and a wrong time thatwasn’t telling me, “you’ve had enough.”

Mean Men Never WillMean men never will,but singing women recalllanguid lathersand lazy drunk sun.No bitter shadows hearpurple ache whispers,chanting their want,of juicing pink breastsdeliriously fluffywith mad hot lust.[magnet poem]

A hummingbird just cruised by,looking for last year’s sulfur cosmos.It strikes me that she hasa food supply memory.Sorry, little lady, not yet;but come back next weekand fill your wee belly.

Is there anything more relaxingwhen the mind starts to racethan the coo of mourning dovein duet with a purring cat?Two worlds, synchronized;one moment, this momentas I drink first cuppajoe,windows open, looking outon plants that have bloomed,those about to, and the growingnumber of golf ball-sized tomatoes.

The wild has beenbred out of us;the part that recognizessoul huntersthen flees or fightsto see tomorrow’s light.Yet the urges remain,to rationalize then actin dark savage ways.We pad plush cagesin domesticities’ days,but under cast moonsprowl forests,blood in our hearts,seeking prey.

It’s Friday again?Fridays fly like cardsshuffled by a card shark.(TGIF days are gone.)I meet them withdisappointmentat my terminalprocrastination.