Can't shake this cold. Hacking and wheezing. Sneezing.

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Hot tub is a most welcome thing.

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Garden plans 2007 include blueberries, ETA 2010. We have pine needles.

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Clark's is ever close. Listen to the earful? That's four poems-worth.

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Seen the Borat-Conan O'Brien interview on YouTube? Conan doesn't know what to say. It is very sexytime.

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Local reading series last night featured 10 straight poems on arranged marriages. The first five were interesting. They were all by the same poet.

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Haven't written a lick for a week.

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This Larry Fagin poem from Brain Damage

Ida Lupino

You look brighter through
the lampshade on my head.

There's a card trick
a cocktail and charades

it's true, Blue Monday
has made monkey man forget.

Pea-green as can be
are you, musically speaking

and walking up & down
on the offbeat in the lobby

a small drunk in brown
toots a blue goodnight:

beige drapes & blinds drawn tight.

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Many and/&'s. Everything included belongs.

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Ida Lupino is bangs if you've seen her.

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When I can't write, I blog.