86/365 - 90/365

08.05.10
Finished reading a collection of fragmented modern writing, intentional broken phrases and twisted notions of literature. That is—twisted as in altered, realigned, personal, private—
•
Ominous sight: a swinging screendoor, banging against an empty house. Each swipe at the air pulls it further off its hinges.
•
A green grasshopper
clings to a speeding windshield
hitching a ride south.

08.06.10
On august treetops
dragonflies gather en masse,
dangling metaphors.

08.07.10
Another moment:
mundane day with limited
possibilities.

08.08.10
In bed together:
thirty minutes of reading.
Lights will then turn off.

08.09.10
Outside the second
story window—chimney swifts
wing across the air.