A sense of letting-go when the season becomes a sweaty rewiring. I wake-up and realign the bedspread. I prepare to undo some major controversy on the political front, I have found the expression, coughed up a lung to be very matter-of-fact. Today is windy. It’s the science of breaking even. I wish you understood what it’s like to be dreaming and then fall face first into a blueberry patch. You awake a king of gratitude, holding a sceptre of absurd. Put on your black glasses and step out into the glow.