It’s not so bad to hunker down and do what must be done for about a week and a half. And then we yearn for fun.
A box of fancy chocolates would make your sweetheart sigh, but love is a bucket of safety gear for days you work up high.
Narrow lots and alleys, front porches and cracked plaster– this is how to get to know your neighbors.
When spring comes to your part of the world, so will poetry to your mind. Spring is just made of poetry. But the warm south breeze will blow all the paper away and you won’t be able to write any … Continued
You were working, I was sleeping, You were earning, I was keeping track of everything at home. Yesterday, I brought home bacon, but you, my love, were barely here. When you come home from work today, the sound of bacon … Continued
I’m colder than I’ve been all winter. We turned the furnace off to work on dusty things like paint and plaster. I hear the birds beyond these panes confirming that the world is changing: the dining room is getting done … Continued
It’s good to talk atop a hill with the city spread below. We see some ridges where we’ve been and many places we don’t know.
They don’t make dust masks for toddlers, at least not that I know. And so, for this whole Saturday, to Grandma’s you must go.
You make my box into a bus. You make its wheels go round. You make the wipers swish, swish, swish. You give the horn its sound.
I don’t remember a single thing I did on the fifth of March. There must have been something, for if there had been nothing, I would have done everything I’ve been meaning to do. So I know I did something … Continued