(July 31, 2023)
even incessant
cicadas' concert nears quiet
downhill to morning
Devil's Details draws duty
must lay-waste to this sad 'hootch'
*(Michael Connolly's book allows me to hide from clean-up chores - forever grateful. Finding some new authors with which to waste precious days...and NY Times' science pages tells me reading fiction - not biography, etc. - engages brain more fully than other genera and thus I can die filly-facultied (say, as opposed to completely doddering and drooling) as if I had the concession to Niagara, Falls instead of some filthy-lucred plastic bottle company. The Times' article posits fiction engages more fully the imaginative arts between the ears and thus holds forth a shield from the encroaching synapse-eating "Old Al's" disease. If that's the case then "news readers" on TV and in other cases radio and print writers must join up with local, state and federal entertainers we call commonly "Politicians." Truly, those categoric pre-occupations spin enough lies to make Old Mother Hubbard blush, either in shame or envy one has trouble telling. I learned how to lie early. When I was in my third decade, my mother looked at me bemusedly and said, " Really, J, I no longer can tell when you are lying to me." I replied: "Mom, 'at you' not to you." and grabbed quickly the last rashers: pays to eat last at The Queen's galley. O, first. Guilt accosts the middle child at breakfast. But I ameliorated the pangs by taking on a both sides of a May-sweet Duncan grapefruit...if you want long enough the tart citrus fruit sweetens as summer rushes to the yearly fray.)
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