I was due today

  there's a bull somewhere inside of me

  a taurus bumbling around

I'm sitting on the rock by the cabin

crept up the mossfilled footholds

tips of moccasins mashing the wet needles

slip off tread slide down.

we used to climb up here & we'd eat huckleberries

  cutest thing we ever did

we did a good job

  fell asleep in rain windows         layers in

  cotton silk wool cotton wool

    distrustful black hoodie,

it's chilling out and 

 we live on the mosquito plains

  but I'm a rockform

    tearing up  tearing down the mountain

like all the other pretended birthdays ever

a weather inappropriate watermelon beer in a colder that reads, 

  I'm still hot but now the hot comes in flashes

    

   what is virtue

   what are justices

  I wish I had a dictionary or a diary

   I wish I was another call

    I found the face.

 it's chilling out 

  on the mosquito plains

 fashion models taking some shots here

 denim + bronze

    when I'm a typographer                                 in the future

 I will design my own font

  that only gets used

   for my boutique's logo

but it will be patented

and it will make me billionz

           I'm an earth mother

        not a Typist

    especially since being always 

on the lichens, in the moss

swatting mosquitos 

pretending we were plains

but I wasn't born today, or yesterday

   there was just a broken heart drawn on my mother's baby-calendar

   followed by 5 days of things like, 

    

this baby won't get out of me

I'm tired

I'm done

this isn't working

I can't do this anymore

for me

I was drunk last night-

 this one’s for me. do you ever think about it?

do you ever think about it?

do you ever think about it?

Sometimes I think I know everything,

sometimes it’s later at night, during the time a moon normally shows,

especially when on nights before so strong a moon shone,

and sometimes, too, it’s distracting when everyone else can say it earlier than I, and

who cares? the smell is there, and I have the olfactory moments in me thick & true,

and by the by telling you that I am here in the woods, with a laptop

which somehow seems perfect

because I am no earth mother

I am a Typist

and the delete key, the letters lit up, are the tools that keep em going

when I could just sleepingbag out right now on a T on a lake, waves lapping

lapping lapping sloshing, all night long

Instead, I am here, soberest, knowing. You know, I know.

But sober enough to know that you don’t really know.

I see better with my eyes closed,

with my head sort of

with my heart an open hand. if that would near it, what I try to say

OH

and fail to say.

Sorry if you don’t, because I always will. & so glad you don’t, so I’ll never have to.

My dog has these

these

these

these words are so unimportant to her!

o nevermind, the world won’t end before I remember what I was going to say.