praise for imperfection

And thank god.

I have found my imperfections again.

And they are what make me human.

And I am so glad

I am human.

lasagne

the lasagne looks almost indecent

in its insistence on abundance

oozing ricotta into the plastic tupperware

glaring at me

and writing this poem I am sure

this place never finished my sentences

but nothing is lost these days

everything is found the answer is laid out for you

without you knowing what question you were asking

(in all likelihood a different one)

why do I want to kill something.

the cleansing wave of destruction

an alternative to perpetual anxiety

and anger at things I cannot change,

I would take some abundance now.

I would take some, and then some more,

and then some more,

and then some

more.