portions and potions

So much. Filled head. Be an always poet – like yesterday. Resigned. I start here, and come back all day. Walking. Writing. Freeway. Up against a patio wall.

Shopping and returning and between Kevin Costner movies. Among. Free, in some other way, reminded of childhood victories. And childhood failures.

Always with the magic.

How much do I weigh this week? Is food my fuel – or my Buddha? Is this a crack in my life – or just a Friday? Am I bleeding out, and weighing less – or morning stools portrait big, wide health?

Who kept generosity from me – and why so long? Lots of songs all about so long. And, I bet, there’s always orange flowers. Just out there.

Not everything’s a circle.