moods

today it is overcast and I feel overcast, as if a little bit I can feel the sadness of everyone around me who are so sad and it gets in my bones like it is my bones. I wrote a poem called discovery and I think it might be sad and maybe a little boring but then I always think my poems are boring. reading kathy acker this morning with coffee (are most written words boring in comparison?) I kept covering my eyes as if the book were a slasher flick and then since I kept doing that over and over again I decided the book might be a slasher flick, since very little else makes me cover my eyes, though I am a delicate flower, and delicate flowers rely on the obfuscation of the sun, not the hard noon light, lest the bright orange of their bright orange fade, lest they get so hot they bend under the weight of that heat and isn't that a kind of bowing? and don't we, even the delicate flowers, try so hard not to bow in the hard lights?