away from you while ants in the trash

relaxing
Emeline asleep
in her space

cat has a
full wine glass
and sits as
curls

i have just opened
the windows
for the first time
this year

light a little
orange blossom incense
to paint the fresh and
salty dying summer
air

it has been
too hot or too damn wet
but not right now
it is right now
as i remember how i
used to love incense
good incense was a staple
just like the
sound track

music
smells
wind and
light
meant clean
as days closed

these days are
beautiful and slightly
different
music sometimes gets
in the way of naps
incense may incense
flared sensors

work stays work
and traffic same
conversations with friends
about

like dreams now
and feelings as the
night before roller
coaster rides or
sinking
like in wait for
hangman’s noose

all the same
popcorn gets away
from you while ants
in the trash
mercenary and the
march toward sweet

when i was eighteen
i sent four poems to a
magazine in norfolk
as i write now i have
yet to send any more
anywhere

i ready myself

one of those poems
was about
ants i think
it went

the ant.
the ant has lived
and worked
and breathed
and walked
round here for
many a day

with a breath i
blew the ant away.

i don’t remember
the other three but
the magazine sent me a letter
-kept two and wrote that
they may use the others n
some future publication or
some such shit

i never heard from them
again what
the fuck is this
and why and where are any
of this here