May I Go Upstairs and Read Now?

I'll write my poem up here since there ain't no way it's gonna fit below Little Marty Stuart and his geetar. The dude's garnered numerous awards.

Last night on TCM was the film GASLIGHT, with Ingrid Bergman and Charles Boyer. Directed by George Cukor, known for directing beautiful women.

Boyer is trying to drive Bergman insane. His come uppance is at the end.

SOUNDS

The whoosh of the furnace
sounds like a slow freight train
cutting through my house

Miraculously it does no harm

When I looked outside
a red robin was digging
for food

If I were a robin
I'd love those succulent
worms too

Barks now.
The dogs are awake.
Circling the block.

Kalie, shut your goddam
mouth!

...

Just prepared my breakfast. Vanilla full fat yogurt with frozen blueberries, in nice, slightly dirty bowl of Helene's. Into the oven they go.

Dirty? Yes, you must use soap when you wash dishes.

Yessum!

What an awful dream I had.

Help help! Birds were trying to come into the window. No one would listen to me.

Such good books I'm reading.

Rachel Maddow's BLOW OUT.

Daniel Leviton's HEALTHY AGING, which is also on Helen K's reading list.

I zoomed downstairs this morning to unlock the front door in case Scott wanted to come in.

Last night I watched the continuation of Ken Burns' Country Music.

Marty Stuart, who I'd never heard of, was one of the stars. Many played the mandolin, was it? He was a young tyke when he began to play.

Was I ever happier? Snuggled up in my jammies. When hungry I went downstairs and brought up two thin slices of Havarti Cheese.

Havarti looks like matzoh in soft form.