Transcript:
Page 1
Recently I realized I love old class
notes. How now they make no sense.
after the class is gone
digging further into the page
with each thought burrowing
deeper deeper deeper
I threw away my old notes.
Because they didn’t have art on them
But maybe that was a mistake.
The leaves are falling.
Across the street their leaves are heart shaped
the fake kind
I wish my cousin well in his second marriage.
I’ve been trying to write, but I haven’t been
I can’t commit to words
fucking circle speaker
When writing essays, I write like a politician speaks.
tend to (don’t commit)
Maybe I can only write when I’m supposed to be
listening - sorry Janet
My mom stole catnip for the tigers.
and drove cross country.
maybe so
To the South
Page 2
I wish I capitalized that last “And”
but I wrote this bitch in pen.
I usually write with pencil,
but I thought I’d dress it up
with a deep ball point.
Regret
the fuck is this space?
I’m unravelling, thread unwinding.
I wish I were writing a novel
I’m not
I can’t
every day feels like a new life
2020
I can’t commit to tomorrow
Not yet.
Call at 11
I like watching calligraphy,
but that’s just envy.
In those notes I threw away, I found
a paper
blank of words
with drawings all in the margins
leaving space for words
that aren’t.
I kept that one.