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Picture
of the Day
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Sunday May 17, 2026 |
| every day is
like digging a
hole. you unearth its treasures,
but just try to pack them back in and they
overflow. what sits on top of our necks? is it a camera or a projector? by framing it this way, i'm already painted into a corner. doom is the mood of the moment, but green strawberries and tiny grapes missed the memo, must not be on the socials. and likewise i pretend everything is fine because what am i supposed to do, lead a revolution? that's a task for someone with ambition. it's easy to worry about everything--after all, it's something to do and every click is designed to drain you. we strolled instead of scrolled, saw birds copulating matter-of-factly, the slight ruffling of feathers called the cloacal kiss. first killdeer on the beach, then distant eagles atop tall trees. spring was in the air, another turn of the birth/death wheel. |
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