The human form, good for so many things.
I've written several paragraphs this morning, all now deleted. I then retreated into email for a while. Practicing, I guess. This site was meant to be an ongoing open email to my friends. Well friends, I am dreading the present now in a way that I did not used to. Every observation tinged with decay, weariness at the prospect of rot, its inevitability.
Why go on?
I do not mean life, but rather only with this post.
There is coffee to be made, a bike ride to begin.
If we have butter there may also be toast.
There is some pleasure, a prayer of whispered sins.
.
