juicy juicy june, with its flowers all in bloom. june rosemary that jumps out of my yard, every leaf lit from within. the squirrels are fighting fiercely. I have fine, blonde hairs on my shoulders. head hurts.

earlier in the afternoon I put pushkin, my parrot, in his cage and said 'byebye, I'll be back soon,' in that saccharine way that I subconsciously speak to my pets.

'where are ya going?!' pushkin cried.

'umm... into the fray,' I replied, taken aback somewhat.

'I love you,' pushkin whispered.

I'm leaving for seattle tomorrow, from there I'll drive to vancouver and hopefully buy pot from the guy by the juke box in the cambie pub. now I am perched on my porch, reading sons and lovers, a boy on a bike rides by. dog barks. earlier I rode my bike, ranger, to the lake, and when I stopped a yellow-winged butterfly landed on my wrist, carefully scissoring wings shut. I felt, at that moment, that any blackness that imbued my life was whisked away, and the butterfly twitched, and I carefully began to ride again. throb your way uphill, throw yourself down. I just want to feel something in this weighty, weird world. something. I know I'm corny as hell.

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