12:38 a.m. I do love nights like these, fresh after new rain. The clouds belimn the edges of sky seeping up from the buildings; in the middle is a long spill of the blackest night, a darkening pockmarked by brilliant cold white and amber stars. I like walking in the rain beneath the moonlessness, marvelling especially at the trees which gleam, bioluminescent and serene, while breathing in the clean wet air, exhaling long dragoons of cigarette smoke. I love polluting the air. I like being by myself and imagining what I would say to someone if someone was walking with me; I like laughing at my own jokes. Am I mad? Yes, perhaps. I love being in nights like these.

the Funny Show

agriculture poem

my life in the ghost of Bush

time-lapsed (part 1)

unreconciled

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Images are taken without permission from the fine and trusting folks at Folk Arts of Poland; please purchase something from them. Background music stolen without permission from Epitonic, Basta Music, and just about everywhere else my unscrupulous hands could grab something. No rights reserved.

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