Mr. M is at his window. We are naming the sky again. Chipmunk snowfall, neuron tree branches and white canvas over a dust cloud of morning blue. I’ve been pushing the baroque into my sentences.

Mr. M is gone. He hopped away like a cat. A three sequence dream:

1. A bookstore : a robot voice names off the titles while a red laser scans the books on display.

2. I’m using my best Oscar Madison accent to imitate Lou Reed’s speaking voice.  “Now, it’s garbage. ”

3. A lady is going to have a baby.I’m helping with the delivery. Both the mother and I are sickened from blood and guts.

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