Got my textbooks from the
reserve desk today.
Amidst three heavy accounting texts,
and under a copy of

"The Best Poems of the
English Language",

lay a copy of "The Crying of Lot 49."

I'm excited for exactly 40% of my classes
this semester.



If only I could find a place to live...

Dreaming

Oh, the colors.
Almost lime green engulfed in scarlet.
A girl, she has no face,
kisses a man, also defaced,
in secret. In secret? In the open,
under a tree, but unknown to anyone.

I wander upon them and am filled
with emotion, emotions of fear and
confusion, part, I believe,
because I don't recognize them,
but am still overcome.

Winds pick up on sight, and the trees
tear from the ground. The lovers hold
their embrace until she pushes away,
floating away into the sky. He slams
his fist, but its far too late. The
ground bubbles up and consumes him,
dragging down a long rope tied to his
waist. People watch, but no one helps.

I look to the starless sky and soon
black is all I see. A ring floats down
and hovers, it's inscribed with several
virtues. The ring becomes a snake, which
opens its mouth and screams a very human
scream.

The snake, beginning at its tail, eats
itself, consuming the virtues inscribed on
its belly. The last, I remember, is
forgiveness,
and it is there that the snake bites itself
off, killing itself, and vomits its own remains
into the sky.

I gather the snake's head in my hands and look
first to the grave of the man, and then to the
skies. I bury the snake in the soil, and
immediately, a tree grows. The same tree under
which the lovers sat. The lovers are gone.

I sit under the tree, alone.

A girl approaches me.

A soft blue, and people recognize us.

I Reflect on Currents and Pasts

At work yesterday, I
re-edged beds of river rock
on a very upscale house in
a neighborhood called

"The Legends".

While pushing stones away from
the edge,

I sometimes do my best thinking
while pushing stones uphill,

I thought of a number of things:

Humbert Humbert's folly was not
his attraction to Lolita, but
in his failure to distance
himself from her, knowing his
attraction was both illegal and
immoral.

Fallen birds remind me of fallen angels.
Eternally dead but ceaselessly beautiful.

When one looks through windows of
life and instead sees mirrors, one
of two things is in occurance.
---One, you can successfully apply
---everything you learn and see to
---your own life,

---or Two, you are so vain as to think
---that everything you learn and see
---is about your life.

"Caught me making eyes at the other boatman's wives,
And heard me laughing louder at the jokes told by their daughters.
I'd set my course for land, but you well understand,
It takes a steady hand to navigate adulterous waters."

To be perfectly honest,

I'm afraid to talk to you.