hearing many birds this morning, singin’ about spring.
starting a poem as soon as i wake up.
steve bringing a box of records up from the basement of the bar last night so some of us could get a looksee. Fat Boys on a 45? Yes.
books in mailboxes
cereal.
the first day of final decisions
yesterday evening and the way the sun always finds the brick in bloomfield a moment before dusk
just being here, just being this, still figuring and searching.