—–
progress marches on,
packing boxes in boxes,
a new move back home.

and then she laughed.
—–
Boxes away, first of many, on wings to Anchorage.

—–
Also

because none of us, are as cruel as all of us.

So Sadly True.
—–
Three times three times on,
running in the dark and rain,
klondike, plane trip, home.

A salty afternoon,
gone to seed, well blended drinks,
running all over again.

I’ve been busy and I have a great deal to do in two weeks.
This is not a hiku, although it is for you.
—-
Success tastes like
two thousand dollars from craigslist,
she was wrong about that too.
—–

More running.

It’s hard to stay on point, go and be made happy.

Sometimes I take good photos.
—-
Hand to mouth, onward.
mystery of water etched,
words like I promise.
—–

Possibilities narrow, the only way out is through.
Etc Etc.
Moving is happening, soon.

It’s one of those mornings.
Yesterday was full of energy, hiking and climbing.
Today, sun may burn off the fog and the clouds, or not.
I may end up doing a lot of moving work tonight, or not.
I hope you have a good day, mebe some egg toast, and recline on a couch in the sun (outside in a burnt out field optional).

Another vein-y forearm breakfast,
tied up in expectations and expatriation dates,
no more egg toast mornings in the sun shine,
or couches in the solarium,
just exile to boxes in boxes,
and trim exes under the moon light.