i am home, an alumnus, melancholy.

i've been thinking, thinking too much, feeling, feeling too much, feeling not enough, listening to too much sad music, reading more poetry than i have in a long time, some of it good, some bad, some very good.

from Carolyn Koo's "The Criminal Mind":

Let's suppose for a moment
we don't know who to meet at the plane

In which direction to draw, whether the grasped will collapse. To prepare, we
listen in the lab to what time is it and when will it change, is there time before
Flowers bloom into empty bowls,

Dancing divides the air. When we draw close, it is meant to be read as faster:
the intimate momentum shown by foreboding drift of clouds, the moon's
obstruction to mean blank desire is apt to get lost in the struggle.