The kitten sleeps agin’ an indigo dyed mudcloth curtain
Her form presses her shape into it so well
I put my finger to the form, to see if she’s still inside it
And it pops

I cracked my foot a few days ago
on a heavy cast iron stool base leg
I’ve had to sleep with it propped on a rolled towel
So I can properly roll around

But I put it in a boot
and it was fine to pick up prints and altered clothes
And checks
A storm blew over while out on New Circle 
Another curtain of black flapping ominously
it swirled over the top half of the sky
against a white backdrop
like a pre-oz transport waits to be boarded

later,
A forceful, raging storm of jazz at the Loudoun House
I wanted to weep looking at the trees there
I spoke to them and marveled at them aloud
I was also weeping as the music coursed through me
dancing as ecstatically as I could in half a seza

Two young children joined the band
One was the girl next to me
who had been twirling as hard as she could in limited space
The puppet made music too, 
which was the height of clever

I piled smoked oysters high on a goat cheese sumac sprinkled cracker
and made lentil chorizo stew with pan pickles
I sipped a guava soda and decided
I was definitely inside of a Kandinsky painting
Mon beau jumelle, il gardait toujours l’air serieux
Mais elle s’est sentie mieux
appuyer sur tout les touches