Storm cellar protected by propped up plywood.
A red bowtie on an old man.
Baltimore skyline seen from the middle of a small sloping hill,
at which time I thought about the concept of the song "Streets of Baltimore", though not the actual song because I don't remember it.
I wondered how long it would be before these felt to me like streets of Baltimore and how long it took for me to be in Oakland.
A vacant lot seen from higher ground.
A computer chip of sorts in the weeds on the outside of the fence.
A child under an umbrella too big for him, then dancing into his father's arms who sat in the driver's seat of a car.
My jacket all wet, but there's not that much rain.
Two youngly flowering dogwoods in front of a government building, with flowers mostly on top, like the Baby's Breath in a stick bouquet.
Two Asian people directly in front of me -- man and woman; cosmic androgyne.
You as come, me as menstrual fluid.
Cheese soft & wet from no refrigeration partly crunchy from exposure to air, too salty & soft on my fingers & mouth, too small on my jacket, a hole in the cheese bag, the cheese crumbled & I slightly panic.
Writing a poem about the dogwoods that I consider only an attempt at a poem.
Gracie tells her mother she loves me, or so her mother tells me. Now I can live up to expectations of being loved.
Jay's Italian Gourmet.
Mount Royal & Saint Paul.
Bottom teeth against back of front teeth. Back teeth together then apart.
Memories of Charles Street in the Summer.
Domed curvy Victorian vestibule feels like my Root Chakra. No. Sacral. No. Both.
Uncommon crow call.
The dream of buying a lapis lazuli to wear to the observatory.
Men digging up holes next to the sidewalk. Thick & thin yellow mud all over. Piles of mud next to men in construction suits in deep holes, three in a row. Mud on the street needing to be swept & being swept.
Wild medicinal herbs smiling at me from among the garbage.
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