He Says He Doesn't Feel Like Working Today

I am in Maine with L. Best two weeks of our year. Above, Bartlett's Landing, Mount Desert Island, half hour before sunset yesterday. Hiking starts today.

We are both symptom-free but still testing positive for covid, thanks to those who've asked, concerned. Today's hike will be gentlest we know, Petit Manon, five gentle mile out and back to adirondack chairs overlooking Dyer Bay, L paints, I read or don't read and write or don't write

No plans for this space as in I will or I won't do this or that though I've promised myself whatever I do or don't do not explain (he types while explaining that Lambchop is the official house band of Jeff's Vacations as reason for the below which always washes over me and makes me cry with joy and peace) (he types while mentioning that John Ashbery is the official house band of Jeff's head (and there will be the traditional Ashbery birthday post day after tomorrow)):

MY EROTIC DOUBLE

John Ashbery

He says he doesn’t feel like working today.

It’s just as well. Here in the shade

Behind the house, protected from street noises,   

One can go over all kinds of old feeling,

Throw some away, keep others.

                                             The wordplay

Between us gets very intense when there are   

Fewer feelings around to confuse things.

Another go-round? No, but the last things

You always find to say are charming, and rescue me   

Before the night does. We are afloat

On our dreams as on a barge made of ice,

Shot through with questions and fissures of starlight   

That keep us awake, thinking about the dreams

As they are happening. Some occurrence. You said it.

I said it but I can hide it. But I choose not to.   

Thank you. You are a very pleasant person.   

Thank you. You are too.