A cough can rattle my chest -and it looks like it's going to get worse, for a week or two.
Causing me to think of all those old romantics, torn apart by TB.

Punctuation, or over doing it for emphases, makes me feel poetic at times.
I've been writing lately, and loving it -but wish I was doing more of it.

I am optimistic of my future, a warm blanket when I am alone at night.
Working with children causes me to want them for my own
-An oddity for a single, 20 year old, boy.
Waiting for my future wife
Like a long distant phone call
In this too, I am optimistic, again, an oddity.

A week ago I felt the snap of Beat Poetry's jazz percussion.
This week I feel tired -and in love-
I value my friends all the greater.

Dave Cope introduced me to Gertrude Stein.
I have never before seen someone write without pain.