nibbling away at your sanity
Some of this. Some of that.
Edges on edges.
The color that is all colors.
Stands in for mememories of summer.
A vision from a while ago.
Ago. Ago. Ago.
One upon another.
Right here. Right now.
Foursquare and scratchy.
Is what it is, mostly.
One was virtual. One was 11-dimensional.
And the third vanished right after downing its drink.
Professor Beaker tests the buds.
As spring approaches.
Bob turned the corner.
And met himself.
The season of leaves is past.
And returning soon, with a new cast.
Hold it together.
Until it falls apart.
One from the glamorous alley series.
Number one, in fact. Maybe one of one, come to think of it.
In the tree.
Giving me the hairy eye.
Hanging around.
Around here. Around now.
Of the month of F.
Sloppy, gloppy, glissy and foo.
Another dawn, another day.
Another walk with wet pussytoes.
For this was on seynt Volantynys day
Whan euery bryd cometh there to chese his make.
Again.
All over.
Hopping flappers.
Came by to say boo.
Is true, the truth.
Especially Saturday, which is now.
Just weeks away from summer.
Yet so many millions of seconds.
In the rain.
Pushing toward spring.
Could be. Or.
Imagination on the hoof.
Now past.
But you remember it.
Imagination on the ground.
Quietly discomposing.
No crickets. Yet.
Come back later.
Crummy sunny, because.
Winter is hiding today. But still waiting.
Stay or go.
Sunshine or clouds.
In case.
You were wondering.
Known for its elusiveness.
Nevertheless, it creeps toward us every spring.