got sick and ached and forgot who i was

was lost with my usual lunch haunts closed

quit drinking

discovered sarsaparilla

fish n chips on the pier when the cool change hit

desired bikes, awesome old racers

guilt

an essay on apollinaire, needs a pretentiousness edit

read an old poem at royal park reading

wasted time

made tortillas fer real w/ masa nixtamalera

long summer evenings indoors

floored by the early pound, have to quit poetry

yearned for provençal, derivative yearn

hugged sam then lost him

got his bike back though, but its no awesome racer

kurt vile on a pretty day

point addis oh my god its beautiful, but i was sad, and we three were beautiful, but i was

         still sad, senseless sad

felt far off, empty, artless, feint, beat

too much sport

indifferent to scholarship

started drinking again

approaching deadlines

too much tv

talked about drugs, took none

idled in the office

filled bins

no plans but instant plans

pants that don’t fit

wondered about michael

drunken disagreements over the marxist legacy

coveted my neighbour’s racer

modus operandi: obsession

fixed leaking toilets

plumbed old poems

went to the tennis, 44 degrees

floored by federer, have to quit tennis

resolved to read less books, read too many books

tired, inordinately tired

flummoxed by time’s knack for putting things out of reach

loved, distantly

hurt, distantly

valis

heine’s deutschland

still weirded out by christmas gifts

the stretching out forward, onward, time’s drawl

told myself to slow down, became irritable

snarled at flags

shunned life

succumbed to car fantasies

en l’an de mon trentiesme aage

was otherwise safe, emptiness safe