not a poem:
the first elliot smith song on new moon. why is it so sweet to hear it. it's like hearing a panda. speaking of suckers. it's just the "me small you big" of it. we like that from both ends. asymmetry. I can't find my camera. I think it's in my scooter glove box. I might listen to it again. it goes like "sometimes I feel like, only a cold pan-da, only and o-o-nly, only an --o-o- nly, only o-nly."
bottles on a clean counter are beautiful. all the different graphic arts on the labels, turned this and that way, so vert, opaque. comments are nice. but it's nice to post in a blog with no comments because it's like everyone is in a big cage and can't get to me. not that I don't like when people get to me. of course I do. but the cage is nice too, differently.

it's not really like hearing a panda. it's something about soft disappearance we want. you get that in a lot of elliot smith songs. that kind of super-accelerated indulgent self-love with the other as a foil to insure proper delivery like those things you put around the front of your neck for tanning, not tanning hides, in the spring break. how was your spring. have you been thinking about it as such. of course I do about my spring. online I'm sure there is people's pictures of the year, their oblong representations like I have in my head. the week is also an oval but flatter (more flat), a tank tread with the top skinnier, rhombus with the tread shorter at the top for the weekend. for my year Dec 31 is at the top, slightly right of center. then january drops steeply. spring is pretty flat, vert (vertical), then turns into a disproportionately fat weeble wobble bottom for the summer, around june or july. june is sort of invisible. turns back up around sept/oct. but what to do in the year. none of this solves the problem of what to do. I have a charmed life. I don't always feel it. publish