So far I've done everything I could possibly do this year.
I've given thorough thought to cleaning up my act.
These early-day hours have been rough-house
The storm shudders inside me are all grimy, they need tending to,
I just need to find them first.
So tired from last night,
Riding unicorns through the stars.
(No one believes me.)
Trouble is we're all blinking too fast for our own good as it is.
I've done everything I've promised to do this year, so far,
And I haven't even made the promises yet.
That's how interesting I've been lately.
You have no idea how hard it is to be this interesting.
Riding Bellyglow through the thrushes of song birds...
I probably don't know, either.
What a bucket of letters this is.
Thanks for Peking, thanks for Hong Kong.
Happy New Year.