Not poems.

I was going to talk about how I've managed to avoid smoking cigarettes for over two months, but that's boring. I may give in any day, which would consign me to the massive pile of would-be ex-smokers. If I end up there, so be it; if I don't, or do, I have no reason to discuss it. Nothing will make me feel better about giving up smoking, and nothing will make me feel okay about smoking.

All I've posted lately has been poetry, none of it mine and all of it better than anything I could write. Maybe someone wishes I would write something else. As the days accrete, I grow increasingly convinced that, as bad as I am at it, I am better suited to translating other people's poetry than I am offering up my own; but, being a self-involved shit like pretty much every other member of my generation and species, I will continue to post my own work here when I have something I think is worthwhile.

In the interim, allow me to suggest the following things that might enrich your life, dear reader.

Buffy the Vampire Slayer, one of the best TV shows ever aired, along with
Twin Peaks and The X-Files. (Not web pages, obviously.)

Mercer Arboretum.

Ursula K. Le Guin's website.

The Macau Streets homepage.

And that's it.