man, every time i come back from vacation i got to Pose.

i tell you one thing we did on vacation, we did not Pose.

we didn't hafta Pose every second, we just played every all the time.

you mean to sit there and tell me you don't like to Pose? whyn't you tell me that before?

i would have thought it would be indubitably obvious to even the most casual of observers.

aw, yer just joshin' me, you ole hambone.

for whoso once has known this sweet knowledge, and then fled it; in absence, to him the avenging dream will come.

i felt at times i was watching my body from an immaterial vantage and i animated it in part.

in glut of all material arts: a civic barbarism may be-man disennobled -brutalized: by popular science. that's melville boo.

men are jailors all,  jailors of themselves.

shadow that comes inside.

sometimes i call copp boo too, reminds me how my indiana kin of yore used to call several uncles spook.

still, boo, in this debased age, life's thrill is primal, Pagan.

here is a man we met a year or two ago with a baby girl who swam with copp and fell off the platform in the water and i took a picture of her mid-fall with one hand and caught her with the other and she's in day care and probably doesn't remember but she does remember the dog and by association me. she's still tiny and cute as a button proverb. and papa got moves.

when adore opens you, enter

dance me to the end of time

we came for joy, not to steal land occupy terrorize and kill.

i have these feelings with no expression. that is why i cry and that is why i jump.

i loves the crows but they's hard to get to know.

i was listening to good irish music last night and happily noted it sounding like a mysterious language and not at all like some of the pub sound tripe i heard before.

song ah quiff.

song dogs

swimming upstream

young adonises chatting up the sexy girl while we jump up and down and splash for attention.

while i talk with my garden hippy friends fen nestles in the long grass chewing his cud like a cow from space.

here you come again, and here i go.

the pointers meet the neighbor across the alley weirdly for the first time. they get on like happy well-adjusted and loved dogs tend to do.

we come upon a squirrel stiff. hilde takes note and comet steps on him un-noted. then the lady comes out and says there's a dead squirrel i'm afraid of. well he's pretty dead i say it's the live ones i worry about, they came in and wrecked havoc in my neighbor's, couse the crazy neighbor was feeding them chicken bones and hot dog buns. i saw some with blue collars in the alley she said. crazy pets i said.

hilde covets a stray pony. but it may not be stray i say the kid or bronie may be coming back.