I don’t know it rates as the third greatest Jeff metaphor my favorite newest Jeff metaphor: gouache not only begins fading the moment it starts drying, the way I layer it on itself the faster it crumbles when dries, I can’t glue them back to back and save without ruining both, I emergency laminate the back-to-back, less desiccated side down

All circles, I now acknowledge my circles *are* placemats to everyone but me and you and not most of you and I agree wholeheartely, there are six notes I can hit singing and *not* have the worse voice in human history, I love George inordinately cause they’re his six too: E Flat, our key, our voice, our range, our placemats

I never once in fifty years of writing jeffspeakspastic poetry thought as much about poetry when hiking like I think about my just done, in process, and future playmats when hiking now. L always remarks how much I love bells, she lets me listen to Swans in the car now. I pretend this a discovery not my onset mother’s and mother’s mother’s dementia, they both loved bells, wrote nothing