filled

I was thinking today, watching a man at st. marks write page after page of poetry (handwriting it), how strange it is that we call this person in this moment prolific. wouldn't it make more sense to call a person so filled with words pregnant, and women carrying children in their bodies prolific? one day I'd like to meet my beloved lifemate on a streetcorner or in the park and say, love of my life, I'm prolific!

in other news that was never news, my dreaming inspired me, unconscious, to bite my tongue. that's how I woke up this morning. having clamped down on my own tongue. do I need to say ow? yes, I know I'm a little obsessed with the philomela myth, but really this is going too far.

or else my dream mind is seeking an advising position.

demanding. assuming.