Thursday, 1/2/2014

Oh right, it's another year
       another poem. The day's shot;
   there was work---but actually, not much.
What's a year anyway? 
Give me the real work.

Back on the ranch,
we managed to get the hall heater
started; the sweat will start pouring
any minute now
     Why not write a poem

          An ode to Fridays
The expectation
the release. The third season
of Farscape.     But first
a pizza potluck in the 2nd
floor meeting room
the Fort Ord room
     sparkling water 
     and something gluten-free
not unlike
high school
waiting, eating

Why do we all sit 3 feet
from the table? We're all
perfectly nice people

But. I must comment.

   And now, before bed
the odd collection of
noises along the eves; the ghost
of the kennel owner leans 
on an exterior wall,
lights up a cigarette
   Or it may be
the horned owl
               more likely
the barn owl's
breathy   hissed  shriek

I had
        four hours of sleep
        last night!
                 Yet, somehow
made it through Thursday
         
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