My feral son, whose only spit and polish takes place when he brushes his teeth, who crawls into my bed with cold feet every morning at 7.15, who then commences to fidget and demand peanut butter sandwiches.
Glacier billows between air and digital piques
carnival eyes fear discovery underneath
limbs pole pitched
squeals from my
chimp’s teeth ape your papa with perfume.
I’ve peeled your orange, undergraduate of man.
Teach me to live (let live) in trees threatening green
earnest as we
are to speak.
till dicta swaddle you in sangfroid.
I was eating a carrot of debatable texture when it occurred to me that I should start a blog dedicated to what I do the most in my spare time, which is chewing over the mealy stuff of life (pow), forcing together topics in an intimidating and meandering style comprising sentences of formidable length and dwindling interest, sandwiched together with a considerable amount of filler material, mostly assembled by my fervently mind-dredging my favourite comedians on youtube in a desperate ploy to sell their hard graft as my own. Aside from fixing the world as I rather hubristically assume I can, there are other things going on in my life, naturally, but if I were to write about the things that fill most of my mind for most of my day then it would be an absurd exercise indeed: filling my precious spare time by filling my head, and hence a page, with the things that occupy the meat of my day. In that vein, I would unashamedly post macaroni art and recite the three little pigs repeatedly. However, as time wears on and I run out of ideas, I am sure this will become increasingly likely to occur. Continue reading