Dear wigleaf:

yesterday i was in kentucky, and today i am not and that is fine. there's a restlessness, but i won't acknowledge it. 100,000 people from my home state want to secede. sam houston would spit on them. he was our only two term president. i'm my only me.

somewhere there are skunks. somewhere, sour cream.

sea shell sounds and humming birds and telephones and brine.

the day is gray, humid but cool.

i haven't killed anything in a long time. maybe i'll call up the old friends. have them drag me out hunting.

what month is it?

i fear december.

a ghost waits for me there, ashed over.

a slow ghost with blanket colored eyes.

it blinks sleep at me.

it wants me to rest.

instead i drink through the fatigue, rise and make to dance. there needn't be music. there only needs to be the yearning. and now i move, and you can move with me.

in all things, joy.

brian allen carr

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Read BAC's "Stamp #1."

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