after 10 months of nonstop production for my institution, and a perfectly disorganizing weekend of poetry and conversation production and rattling around apartments and institutions with white wine glasses in hand, and lacy underthings under the things no one took off, I am now on what appears to be steadfast mental re-evaluation vacation. all i want to do is lie in the park and read poetry, or fall asleep on the BART listening to poetry, or perch in the airconditioned cubicle arena reading poetry, and poetry blogs and poetry feeds and news feeds and news blogs and economy news and professional-marxist economy-evaluating news-poetry blogs, thinking about sex and grass and money and poetry (all of the kind you lie in), it's a mess over here/ I'm unraveling, which makes me feel steadfast and resolute in my perching against the machine warbling in a cubicle box thing warbling