Weighing each lengthwise, I make an assessment foolishly generous.
This far along I think of friends who’ve been burdened with cleaning out the houses of the deceased.
A task to menace one’s mania for things.
Fondness is a cramp that makes love to a library.
When I start a new document, I nix the header and implement jettison.
Where to I don’t know. Acreage elsewhere, beyond the space my brain has to give.