It’s been a hard day’s night
And I’ve been working like a dog
It’s been a hard day’s night
I should be sleeping like a log
But when I get home to you
I find the things that you do
Will make me feel alright
From “A Hard Day’s Night” by the Beatles
I’ve been obsessively writing for a few weeks. I’ve entered a secret world of words that I can get lost in for hours. Picture some kind of matrix scene where probes are attached to my head and I’m twitching and people are shaking me and yelling, “Maery! Maery! Wake up!”
I was trying to get the kitchen painted this morning, but Java was not cooperating. Her whining was getting on my nerves so I finished taping around the woodwork in the kitchen and decided to take a walk break
“Work the shot,” experienced photographers say…
The Grungy Grays sometimes walk through the night, howling in their secret language at the moon. Or they ride on a hodge podge of mountain bikes, road bikes, and falling apart bikes, their graying hair flashing like sparks in the moonlight…
It was up around 45 degrees today, unseasonably warm for this time of year. It’s sad for me that this will be a brown Christmas but I did enjoy riding Luke outside with my friend Cheryle. Before I rode, I noticed that Luke’s eye, which has been weepy for awhile, is not getting better, and…
Each night I set my boats to sea and leave them to their bawdy business. Whether they drift off maddened, moon-rinsed, or dock in the morning scuffed and chastened— is simply how it is, and I gather them in. ~ from “Describe Yourself in Three Words or Less” by Rita Dove (this poem and eleven…
