Journal Bits March 15 -21

March 16 - The morning is like an intersection with everything coming together at me all at once.

March 16 - There could be an IED / somewhere on this desk / who would know / till it were too late / till the florescent crackled / overhead the air crisp / with carbon / ashen paper particles


March 17 - and there among all other / was a single green rose / the bud still grasping itself
 
March 20 - where would we be without the moon / the moon that placates vampires / that romances our literature / that hangs in the trees / night after night until gone / its presence then in the conspicuous absence / until reappearing as a sliver resting against the night
 
March 20 - noted that late night I read "For the Year of  the Insane" by Anne Sexton
 
March 21 - Time to kill / on a messy morning / Sunday, graystone sky Sunday / silent cold / the air having scraped her teeth on snow that fell  / these past two days / crispy chattering