Full Pink Moon

Edgar Oliver reads his poem, The Moon. I'll take that down shortly, but it's appropriate for now.  How I love him!

 
Purchase "The Hermit and Other Poems" here.  My favorite is In Prospect Park, in case you wondered.

And a night bird is singing constantly outside my window.  I don't know how it has the strength.  It goes for hours.  Rogue night birds need to live farther away.

There's always one weird thing that stands out in memory to demonstrate a particular moment in time.  A random thought or night or object.  I have no idea what will ever remind me of right now.  I don't think I'm paying attention to anything except that tiny place in the back of my brain where everything is private and mine and I don't have to deal with complex interactions.  Lots of stuff going on, not too interested in any of it. 

100% illumination

i am trying to be more measured with my reactions, and this is a good reminder. in fact i'm just going to hide out in my den and continue to be happy with small and simple, authentic experiences.

definitely need some more piscean advice. why evaluate everything? just make some art, fucking relax, hang out, write, watch let's scare jessica to death for the 4th time in a month and rewind/replay the raptly uncomfortable scene when emily's bony white hand caresses the trembling face of jessica, you know, do whatever.

close your eyes and watch

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here is the oldest known surviving photo of the moon. there were earlier daguerreotypes, but they were sadly lost in separate house fires the century before last. so there's just this. samuel humphrey took nine exposures one night in september, 1849. so this is a 161 year old harvest moon. i hope it was a good month, because e.a.poe died that october.



of course things have never been the same.