It's May. My brother has baby owls at his place.

( see the baby owls here )

Wasn't happy with my entry in the (April-was-Poetry-Month) Portland poem contest at Powell's, but I did send 'em one. Couldn't resist taking a shot at the 26-book prize. Got a couple of those volumes outta the library, howe'er. (<---poetic "however")

It's May. My brother has baby owls at his place.

( see the baby owls here )

Wasn't happy with my entry in the (April-was-Poetry-Month) Portland poem contest at Powell's, but I did send 'em one. Couldn't resist taking a shot at the 26-book prize. Got a couple of those volumes outta the library, howe'er. (<---poetic "however")

dropped things

From first thing this morning and here & there all day, I've been dropping things. Finally thought tonight, after I broke a cup doing dishes and didn't flinch a lick, didn't miss a beat---like it would've been more surprising not to've--- finally thought maybe I oughta stop doing dishes, for today, anyway.

Musing what all this dropping might be about, symbolically, beyond coincidental clumsiness, I first went to notions of incompetence & impermanence. But a few minutes ago I was thinking about how some things you can just pick up, and some you can pick up with some effort, and some are just broken.

I hope everything isn't broken. Been having feelings lately like it is. In more than one arena.

I mean, I'm sure some things aren't broken. But, you know, it's the ones you really care about. That you don't want to see in shards at your feet. And it's not as easy to know, with things that aren't dishes, what's really broken and what's not.

Hell, even parts of me feel broken. Or on the fritz, at the very least. And not just the knee that was acting up today.

But, hey, what the fvck you gonna do, y'know? I'm sure there's something one can do that's constructive, and I bet it's not go "open" this new "box" of "cookies" & watch LOST, if it's indeed on, which I think it's supposed to be tonight. But my constructive construct seems to have deconstructed. Or it's on the fritz.

dropped things

From first thing this morning and here & there all day, I've been dropping things. Finally thought tonight, after I broke a cup doing dishes and didn't flinch a lick, didn't miss a beat---like it would've been more surprising not to've--- finally thought maybe I oughta stop doing dishes, for today, anyway.

Musing what all this dropping might be about, symbolically, beyond coincidental clumsiness, I first went to notions of incompetence & impermanence. But a few minutes ago I was thinking about how some things you can just pick up, and some you can pick up with some effort, and some are just broken.

I hope everything isn't broken. Been having feelings lately like it is. In more than one arena.

I mean, I'm sure some things aren't broken. But, you know, it's the ones you really care about. That you don't want to see in shards at your feet. And it's not as easy to know, with things that aren't dishes, what's really broken and what's not.

Hell, even parts of me feel broken. Or on the fritz, at the very least. And not just the knee that was acting up today.

But, hey, what the fvck you gonna do, y'know? I'm sure there's something one can do that's constructive, and I bet it's not go "open" this new "box" of "cookies" & watch LOST, if it's indeed on, which I think it's supposed to be tonight. But my constructive construct seems to have deconstructed. Or it's on the fritz.