I didn't think the wasp that interesting.
Then it flew up and away
And I couldn't follow.


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Summer sun wishes
It might light the drifting spiderweb
As the autumn sunset does.


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What is this feeling, Love, that I would want to tell everyone about it, this feeling for my wife ? Everyone assumes that a person loves his wife, but if the world is full of people who live their spouse this much, why is this not a perfect planet?
I try to tell my wife how much I love her but she smiles benevolently.
How to convince her that she's my reason for being?
Love tries hard to be relevant, but seems outside the parameters of everyday life. It's rules transcend the hum-drum; it's the big bang of a steady-state existence.
Perfect- creating wonderment from pure potentiality!



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To consider a woman beautiful, she must tie my tongue in knots.
I married my wife before I thought her this beautiful.
Fortunately, I learned to talk to her before her transformation.

Standing in front of the mirror,
He was cleaning his ear with a swab
Like he was picking a lock.

Like Gertrude Stein,
I write for myself
And strangers.

In times of stress, conservatives tend to look back to what has previously been seen to work and then they try to restore it; liberals tend to imagine what might work better in the future and try to implement it.

My cat looks at a dried leaf which lies close to where I am sitting. She seems to be staring at it intently. To stir things up, I blow at it. It moves. She gets excited, seeing no apparent reason for the leaf to quiver as it did. I see the leaf move. I have my theory as to why it moved. I assume that Lucy, my cat, has a different reason because she did not look up at me as I blew on the leaf.
What's her theory?
What's mine?
Are we in a world in which what I think matters more than what she thinks?
Does she care?
She is lying, stretched out, asleep in the sun, two minute after seeing the leaf move. She does not appear troubled.
I'm still tapping away on the keyboard.
It all reminds me of the story of the Buddhist sage who is walking through the jungle with other monks and they come to a river. They want to cross. A young woman, waiting to cross, asks them for help. The sage carries her over on his back. She alights and disappears, thanking him.
The group walks on for some time.
The monks are disconcerted.
They ask their leader, " Why did you touch this woman in such an intimate manner?"
He responds, " I put her down long ago. Why do you still carry her?"

Lucy has put the moving leaf behind her.


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