i couldn't sleep last night. the moon was nearly round. seems i often wake up when it's just a little off round. r. too. it's all the stuff transpiring now. it's that lady who lamented the honey locust killing in the garden but wants to volunteer for obomba's tower, it's all good and  exciting. you know he's killing 800 trees and privatizing public park lost for good (ill). it's the loss of trees, the loss of memory. well there is that. hmm. the strange notions of public good. it's being off grid and feeling the grid swarming all around with traffic and towers and heedlessness and hate. 
it's wanting sanctuary feeling none is real.