a crow here, a screech owl there

there are mandarin peels and feet of snow, snowbanks, the sea, taha muhammad ali's four lines "and those that remain / after my longing / and apart from my solitude- / a crow here, a screech owl there-"

i am going to work on some drawings tonight. most everything is empty so no one is here. just snow shovels hitting the concrete.


orchids / tires

in the film about suitcases of coins and books he drives into sacramento california in the bare
morning. she meets him at the nondescript motel room and they stand on the bed, lean against the walls. it's not that i don't believe that everything eventually runs parallel... it's just that i'm careful to make any marks. so careful as if i was making another calendar altogether
that i will eventually live by.