Happy birthday, marvelous beautiful Moya!
A piece of string walks into a bar.
The bartender says “we don’t serve string here.”
The string walks out, works itself into a frenzy and ties itself up.
The string goes back into the bar.
Bartender says “aren’t you that piece of string?”
String says, “I’m a frayed knot.”
Giggle. The kind of joke that is much better heard than read.
And just the kind of humor that Moya passes around. Sweet gal. Here’s to your beautiful self.
spike lee waldal: 1992 – 2003
we took him in today. dr. hazanow said it was a gift. we pictured him finally leaping off the roof to catch the perfect pigeon.
from today’s new yorker
ON THE DEATH OF A CAT
In life, death
was nothing
to you: I am
willing to wager
my soul that it
simply never occurred
to your nightmareless
mind, while sleep
was everything
(see it raised
to an infinite
power and perfection) — no death
in you then, so now
how even less. Dear stealth
of innocence
licked polished
to an evil
lustre, little
milk fang, whiskered
night
friend —
go.
— Franz Wright
thank you
Moya Watson 