trismegistus

there are no bats inside this cloistered belfry where the rambling fan rambles. there is comfort in that sputtering propeller as is there in the sleepy whine of the finally settled down stella. my work schedule does not encourage the waking hours i've been keeping of late. however to my favor the next three days are work-free so i can sleep until whenever i want. this morning i did not rise for the day until ten thirty. i do not remember the last time i slept into double digits. except for convalescing a hangover which praise be i have not cursed myself with for twice a fortnight now.

here is a poem about sports.

"universe excludes nothing.
it is everything and all.
just as one pigskin
is every football."
"but what about shuttlecocks?
javelins? hockey pucks?
adieu dear old static,
i must rejoin the flux."

note. one of my goals is to someday write a poem that a) doesn't rhyme and b) doesn't suck.

the antihistamines are kicking in which means imminent sleep. time enough for one more lame rhyme.

as b.b. king took the name of a pellet
take talent bold to the fair and there sell it

ahora duermo.