2011 so far:

A circus, many naps, a night locked out of my apartment, 4 coffee spoons. Nearly everyone I went to the circus with left with a clever disguise. I saw a young man spin on the floor in a hula hoop like a coin embossed with da Vinci's Vitruvian Man. Never faltered. It was beautiful. When he finished, he couldn't stop grinning. It felt like a moment where someone should be hugging him. I wonder how it feels to create dynamic art. You never get to keep it, the way I do my poems. I speculate that this might be both a relief (the mistakes disappear behind you like engine smoke) and a sorrow (the good things are only there when you're doing them?). I want to have this conversation with a dancer or a singer or C's cellist.

And also a thousand dead birds thudded across Akansas.