don't let the perfect be the enemy of the good, gnome sane? no. i don't. i don't know what you're saying, but go ahead and talk if it pleases you, i like the sound of your voice, and i like to lay on your chest and feel your heartbeat. 

 My first kiss from Owen. I was thinking how people look at us like an old guy with his old dog and yet he's not my dog yet it don't matter we're still two old dogs who look alike.

 they're laughing at you.

 We walked around a Frank Lloyd Wright tour talking about the special bricks and Owen peed on them. The bricks, not the tour. 

 The coyote family by the railroad tracks yelped this morning and we felt again the daily blessing of their presence in the community. Yesterday, after reading further in Coyote America, I watched a video of a coyote tangled in a fence being rescued, and a minute ago I saw a picture of a coyote killed by a driver in daylight on a wide road in Texas. It's always been dangerous for our fellow creatures to live among us, and it's also dangerous, for us. Pleas, pleas, let us find our true nature, and mind the ones who only want to live among us.

 There's too much to say, and we end up saying nothing, in silence, observing, or writing endless poems in our head that sometimes escape into the ether and who knows maybe we're all receiving, maybe all thinking along the same lines, watching and listening to starlings, cats and dogs and coyotes talk about life. 

 Two starlings talking. The plot of the regime is still to take the world by force, they're invading everywhere and killing people left and right, ahh, but people want to live, and are waking up to this unprecedented and existentially threatening evil, and the resistance is growing. It's not too late, while we yet live.