1 out of 9
During the winter of my discontented heat pump.
Somewhere in November 

Waking this morning i vaguely remember dreaming in darkness the sound of the heat pump invading my consciousness having noised off every half hour or so + the paying of the dreaded utility bill came into my rolling mind condensed along with vivid memories of an iron maiden thump thump thumping with bruised tar laden lungs with distorted breath triggering + shuddering  — oh my — this tactful conditioning we have of a sound modifying itself into our mind that will plummet whatever hope of leveling the playing field for the coming day + as it is barely cold enough outside to leave a watery frost on the inside of the windows that i have quilted over opaque for the rest of the wintery part of the year yet still needing to plant a bit of spring when there is a break to 41 degrees on saturday.


  1. heat pumps don't work for shit up here when it's -40 f. Spring is a lovely thought

  2. Ha! Always the way. They lie in wait until it's most inconvenient.