yes.

that mood has hit again. more and more often it arrives. and my only wish is that it would swoop down to me at a more reasonable hour- the mood that tells me get up, clean, move your legs, give away next to everything, almost everything you own, make room and smile because you've made space for light and shadow because what else is there anyway. shove it all out the door. let strangers come over and pick out whatever they want. you've got two coats, give away one. you've got two pots and two pans and there's no good reason for that. go, go, go, get rid of all of this. make space for poems to pile up in. make room for all that beautiful black oil and ink. make way for the great things, the small things, those itty bitty bits of bestness that make a life. yes, make a life it says, make a life without all this shit clogging up the joint. make a life. a new life. full of white and yellow and crows on the roof. what else is there anyway.