On the moon’s dark side I failed to sleep until the dawn broke gray.

The visible bright albedo is that my heart feels just as calm as it did when I preached my way down and down into the black canyon of Hassayampa. Also, it was warmer than it looked.

So leaves were corralled and branded, bacon breakfast burrito was once again proCured.

And cubed pork for more and better. Puerco … poblano, fresno, anaheim habanera preciosa.

Y tu. The stray boys of the concrete courtyard come to ask for food and it is given, rationed into four chunks from the can and disappeared expeditiously.

Church bells chiming seven in the post meridian, sun bedding down and housecat too. The dishes are mostly done and the laundry basket hold one stray hand towel; the downloads all acquired.

My voice comes stertorous and slow
I am finding it, even so.