We don't know when it happens but it happens

Make yourself a pad to be in

I'm reclined

That's not true, I'm upright on the stoop

2:21 am, December 5, 66 degrees Fahrenheit 

The Full Frost Moon in Gemini approaching

Which is haha funny

The full part? The Gemini part

The FROST part

I just got a little shiver there

The wind in the pecan tree

My anger leaving in the fronds of the pecan tree

Repeating the pecan tree for emphasis

I will apologize and I am sorry, I know

I'm on some dumb planet

Orbiting this dumb sun

No signs

No blurry constellation hatching

No frost on these fronds

Just the haha of my fogged-on world

Barefoot on the stoop like summer

Gases consuming around me

My own system of farts

I am sorry!

Who Me in the South

Who Me, bathed in pecans

Ovular orbs

Cascading about

Keeping the moisture out from my meats

So tender

O little triumph of stars

O, the twin

O, my mes. Apologetic Mes.

a perfect definition of drinking the cold cup

I am easy, too. It is true. And the warning, or the discouragement from ease, from a friend or two... they would say a worry which is meant to cling me to an ideal aloof. I am sitting here now; it's officially november because we can all tell... it's the still skeletal yard trees, the weird quiet in the morning, the unlikely solid overcast, thorough, final. Some near-winter punctuation. The dregs of sentimentality. It's a new frost! from the stranger cat, a white paw pressd to my leg, his one eye is green, his one eye is blue. The arm hug of claws.

Am I the only fearless one? is it impossible to be the only fearless one. When I charge with ebullience: fear is the killer; and I charge again, burbling, gushing, effluvial: communication serenade it all about... and to never, ever use love in your sentences.