“i’ve noticed your voice changes when you talk about art or men,” she said, and i wonder how my voice sounded tonight trying to talk about the latest lover who’s leaving (to be a fisherman in rhode island), or the musician in australia, the chef in france, the boy next door who doesn’t really live next door and maybe or maybe not ever existed… it’s all just words, you know, i’m writing to write and get out something that doesn’t have a release in this small central-parkless town… i think i need to be out west soon… i need expanses of dirt and earth and sky opening up in front of me…


i’m going to hike a mountain on my birthday.


i love you all… i love loving…


september 2004


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words