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August 6th, 2012

my friend finally putting her pants on

and seeing her phone
led to us talking

and the other chick
wants to watch a movie maybe
one night after the baby's to bed

this is not a poem

these are short lines

a poem, says the schoolgirl of lore,
is that stuff in books which
doesn't quite reach the margins

this is like a poem like that

and also

it does not mean
but is

that's the end of the sentence, the is

it's a be in the poem i take it from

not an is but a be

my friend finally put her pants on so
we didn't get high or go to brunch

but she said that's some bullshit and i liked that

this guy lon, i see on the internet, doesn't believe in teaching math 
cuz he believes in people learning it

i was thinking about his friend, the big guy in the overalls who
also sold stuff at the yard sale

wish i had talked to the guy some more
and to lon

it was hard to get away from my tables

i also keep thinking about the guy in the tank top 
who gave me a dollar for the space heater i'd put in the FREE box
cuz i should have something for it, he said

i said thanks and aw shucks, or words to that effect, and
okay but he would have to take something else
and gave him the little clippy thing with
the cartoon frog on it.  you'll find something
to do with it
, i told him.  and seconds later
he called my eyes back to him,
smiling above his beard, saying
hey, i found something already

he had clipped it to the shoulder strap
of his ribbed cotton tank and
was going to wear it there

and then i loved him
and he loved me
and we loved each other for a minute
caring not for 91 dollars and 47 cents
but for something else

even very sleepy
even worried, or anticipating the sadness
even not yet fully healed

tonight i could tell
by something that was
not prescience
tears were coming to someone
far away
or probably so, or
at least maybe
no probably
then yes

mark me well, said the wise old man

 
 
Can't we all be friends?
 
I was hungry before I ate it.  Now I have that feeling that I can't imagine being hungry again.

The H-bomb's relatives are on their way to town, but won't be arriving until fairly late.  We're gonna meet up tomorrow.  I got the great-grandad's art together.  Took some pix.  Was gonna post 'em behind a jump here but I think I need to reboot to get iPhoto to recognize that my phone has un-uploaded shots on it.  That happens sometimes.  And I don't feel like rebooting.

Here is a line for a haiku:  

    soft kiss from girl lips

See, it's good cuz it has those short i vowels and the s sounds and the o sounds and the word "girl" in it.

Also there is a kiss.


 
Janus
fflo
'Ff'lo

Hello.

CURRENTLY FEATURING
the
Postcard of the Day

(a feature involving a postcard on a day)

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For another postcard thing, see
my old postcard poems tumblr or
its handy archive.

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Many posts are friends-only; livejournal "friend" me and tell me who you are if you wanna read.

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"What was once thought cannot be unthought."

-- Möbius, The Physicists

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"The moment of change is the only poem."

-- Adrienne R.

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