2024.61
I took last week off for my birthday. I ate cauliflower crust pizza and had an extra beer. So exciting—turning 46.
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2024.60
It's the end of the year and I have statistics.
2024.59
I'm so conscious of my backwoods origin when I'm in California. I know most people here don't see it, but that doesn't stop me from thinking they do. And when I'm Missouri, I feel like like the fanciest prick to ever walk Main Street.
2024.58
It's ludicrous to posit, for an infinitesimal unit of time, that poetry followed me from a previous life or that there's prior art for why I'm so comfortable with Death.
2024.56
Somehow I keep thinking I've written all the poems I need to about my father. This one didn't exactly come from nowhere but let's just say I wasn't expecting it.