Hello, email me ☼ ☼ owenjgvaughan@gmail.com ▸--◀︎◁ ❈✵✧※❈✵✧※❈✵✧※❈✵✧※❈✵✧※❈✵✧※❈✵✧※❈✵✧※❈✵✧※❈✵✧※❈✵✧※❈✵✧※❈✵✧※❈✵✧※❈✵✧※❈✵✧※❈✵✧※❈✵✧※❈✵✧※❈✵✧※ 6.19.25 ➢ blades brush surrounding dew drops there I hand grains to plant it for shone rays that continue this with glances often felt why send infinity piece by piece? 6.18.25 ➢ a circle like most things are made from that pliable stuff to be stretched is the greatest pleasure to have endured is what it’s made of 6.17.25 ➢ dust’ collecting in patience waiting, a flint light revealed perhaps not you who holds me harbor or attempts, I unbound long ago but at the mercy of a stagnant breeze will stay here a while with my humble sail raised for it all to come rushing in 6.16.25 ➢ lines oft seen from below and in silhouette head on never so true as later known you are this that I exclaim! 6.12.25 ➢ starred and taken to me, easy like softer wind there was no start yet made morning of it, to spite endlessness 6.11.25 ➢ cities between with multitude multiplies indelible combinations to have or to have had sent out probes in known precipices, those mazes are made of ice and it was cold then with hopes of warmer season to come, permeation and structured sea let me, a barracuda a bullet in this, inherent place 6.10.25 ➢ I am as good as any weatherman I do not know what my future holds 6.9.25 ➢ time like my fingernail how has it been so long 6.8.25 ➢ there was a dream through which I asked that what you wanted and you knew I fell out that slumber and a haze bedimmed it and I imagined you dreamed the same and too, could not remember 5.29.25 ➢ we’ve borne every temperature unsealed wounds to dove through and become one with we are mirrored in summer heat’s false start you’re hands are cold and mine the opposite find each other only until humidity draws out and yours shifts and locates still looking for that middle in the measure between each extreme but our perlin seasons do not subscribe to notions of good timing I know not their provenance only that I do not decide the weather I wonder if you do but know you ride those whims just as often as I am subject to them 10.29.24 ➢ holy hell, flux again. bake a cake. put it in a cup. its a party. blind biking delirium. more than sleep. wasteland. a pleasant one. wasteland nonetheless. waste and non-waste. all that's. 10.1.24 ➢ it's all anticipatory. have been making so many plans. what's happening now? gett-in antsy. we should plan this trip to detroit. one more proleptic action. more sedentary this afternoon. it's beginning to cool off. was windy, but not in a continuous stream of wind after wind. it would pause as much as it played with the chorus of leaves signaling this repetition. gotta be the loveliest sound ar☺︎und. 9.24.24 ➢ the cello is the most avian instrument. what makes you feel more alive than a chance encounter with a friend? i was walking back home after returning (walking from returning mmmm) my very late book yesterday evening, when the streetlights came on. those globes are a landmark of this town and a landmark of my heart and memory. things are settling into place, i hope. 9.17.24 ➢ things have become more wayward now than i've ever before experienced. feeling such extremes as this is not my MO. deeply disconcerting. there's this shifting of intense anger and emotion in absence, and sympathy in presence. these presences, although they have been brief and insecure, make my diatribes dissolve. then i am thrown back into absence where they bubble again. is this dissolve a product of fear? of love? of understanding? prince said, "i love you more than when you were mine", but i know you less. 9.15.24 ➢ listened to the second half of 'on the beach' on the stoop. always a solemn comfort. have enjoyed sitting and chatting on those front steps these past few nights. it's a more dynamic scene, and i get a certain pleasure from being perceived there, as opposed to the more clandestine balcony above. sat and smoked one of, what were apparently mao's favorite cigarettes, with neil. chunghwas. pack was a gift from joe and his travels. they smell like plums. i'm happy he's here again. we should discuss plans for these next six months. i'll text him about coffee/lunch tomorrow. 9.12.24 ➢ bad sleep, spose i'm not used to being next to you again. i still liked it. small tomatoes, waking you up is frustration and pleasure. i'd forgotten that. the morning met the afternoon with defined dissonance, running around the truth. am i made to infer or to ignore? such maneuvering makes one tired. the shortest distance between two points is in a straight line. ❈✵✧※❈✵✧※❈✵✧※❈✵✧※❈✵✧※❈✵✧※❈✵✧※❈✵✧※❈✵✧※❈✵✧※❈✵✧※❈✵✧※❈✵✧※❈✵✧※❈✵✧※❈✵✧※❈✵✧※❈✵✧※❈✵✧※❈✵✧※ The two of them were neighbors and each night, through the windows, they watched each other look at each other pretending not to look at one another. One of those things where both of those people don’t mind themselves on display. The curtains were too short so they were best left to expose. They wanted to be seen reading before sleep and cooking before eating. Then one of them, that one on the left when walking east, became a farmer just south of the crowds growing legumes. Not until time did one of them see the other one of them once again. It was at one long bench that stretched on a number of blocks, getting longer as they walked by. Members sitting and reading one long book that got longer as they continued reading. It was something about Elvis and the non-vernacular and some kind of return to form. At the end of the book, the one found the other at the last word which was “photosynthetic.”