This is a time for walking without coats, but keeping them still near. I sense new patterns in traffic, and so am trying to dress accordingly. We love Benjamin as directed. We love these small detours to the sun. Once again I have drunk too much and so the rain is driving. This is what makes me an accurate motorologist. Gas is a matter of days, and that is an interesting revelation regardless of our cycling. I have cans for this. I also keep some for dew. The rest I sit out back on my porch as a thank you gift to everyone who walks by. There are, in fact, many ways you can go, so I'm grateful you came this way.

I'm from Iowa. So, winter is a weird time to feel warm. But here we are with all these things; Iowa, warmness, winter, weirdness. On the upside? Walking. I'm walking a lot more. And bumping into people I know, and giving away more donuts than I ever have. I only really mean one of those things.

Do you have a dog? I want a dog. My landlord, though, he doesn't think I should have a dog. My landlord isn't going to get a donut. Do you remember when we were kids and we used to find dogs and make them come home with us? How it worried our mothers? How it worried the dogs? We, though, for those glorious few hours, owned our own dogs. But then our dads would come home and untie them and let our dogs run back to where ever it was they came from. And that night, after our baths, we would dream about what kind of dog we would own tomorrow. Mine was medium-sized with brown hair just like mine. Yours you kept a secret, like some kind of birthday wish that had a real chance of coming true if it was only you who knew about it.

The sun is setting and, in a too-long parade of cars, drivers and passengers are either singing or fighting. I've never been too good at telling those things apart. I mean, the orange helps me with the sunset, but the rest is just faces gathered clumsily around some feelings. They are like apples to me, these faces; without the proper labeling, anyone could be sweet and crunchy, or mealy and full of regret.

New York City is a good city to go to when you love someone who loves New York City. I'm relatively certain that's a song lyric, so there's no sense dwelling on it. In it. Though 8,008,278 do. And they all know where the light needs to be in order to walk around naked. I had hoped they would include that in the dweller's welcome packet. You see, my knowledge of your runofthemill city nudity is extremely limited. Or maybe you don't. Are you indoors too? I think that makes a difference.

There was a time when I was looking for a job. Then there was a time when I had a job. But this was to be a temporary situation. For I am looking for a job again. Looking for a job is like being the world's worst treasure hunter. I'm relatively certain that goes for anyone looking for a job, so I try not to worry too much over all the X's. Besides, I've seen the Goonies enough times to know how this all works out.

I have things you can buy if you are into buying things. First, a collection of dinosaur related poems written in collaboration with Friedrich Kerksieck and called, "FOSSIL," is available here. Second, a chapbook called, "BASTARDS," edited by Aaron McNally, is available here. I like these things very much, I hope you like them too.

Have you ever listened to Lou Reed's "Live in Italy?" Even though he sings, "and the colored girls go..." Nobody goes. I mean, Lou Reed goes a little bit, but for the most part...nothing.

Winter is approaching. We know this because the turkeys are desiring community. We know this because of our new methods for reaching into the sky. There was a time for tweezers. There was a time for forks as well. These are no longer those times. Our skies are testing our grasp on skies. How we are able to get a hold. Be gotten a hold. Turkeys increase their tail size. You see they want to be held. Even that way.

We have reached our dream center. Our ability to question our abilities. What lights do we look best under? Do we look best under anything at all? I don't know.

The turkeys are swarming now and we are beginning to feel a part of something bigger. We may not look best under these lights, but we do believe we look warm. We look warm and therefore have something to offer. To proffer. Turkeys, we say, our arms are long and appropriately hinged. We can hold all sorts of things, even if the sky escapes us.

The turkeys look at us queerly. They warble a few pleasantries and like you opening the jar I've struggled with for so long, they take the sky. We are intrigued and incapable of hiding and realizing it's time to edit that page in Wikipedia. The one that says nothing about what has just happened. This is stuff, we agree, the world needs to know.

Our eyes can distinguish 2.3 million different shades of color. We've only named a handful of these. There is red in the sun and red in the shade. They are different reds, but we don't bother to name them differently. That's just how we are.

When you have red cheeks I like you. When you have red cheeks that you let me kiss I like you more.

Let us leave here and be healthy. Let us leave here and get some color. Leave the bulk of the 2.3 million for everyone else. My eyes are busy taking in so much that I'm afraid I don't have the time for every purple.

I'm sorry, purple. If it makes you feel better.

Orleans is a city in north-central France, about 81 miles southwest of Paris. I'm sure it's a lovely place, but I'm not going to old crappy Orleans. No. I'm going to New Orleans.

I went to New Orleans, I mean. This is what I get for not paying attention. A lack of retention. Some slack in the tension. Tense Ions. Tense I am. I am making logical leaps. Do you follow?