Fewer words, clearer meanings. When is a sound not a sound,. When is a presence so still,. Yet quivering with purpose? I sat in a humming place,. The flight and landing of the bees. Between my ears, so much music. So I invited the bees to fill the space. With their neutral, universal tone. And simply do what they do;. To attend to the next flower.

The kitchen is so small. That when we cook, our butts touch. We take our pants off at the door, wonder. If everyone in love does that. Grow plants, but our tchotchke shelf is a vision. No place has ever felt so much like my space. Your voice, guitar, piano, fills all the gaps. Pour out the plastic urinal bottles, but not. Dump his dumps out of the commode, plop,. Neither of us wanted much at all, imagine.

Thanks to OneTreeBohemia Melissa Fu for November inspiration. Thanks to OneTreeBohemia Melissa Fu for November inspiration. A shoe on the wrong foot. A hole in a sock. A stain on a tie. A twist in the lining.