When so many pretty sailors they are pressed and sent to sea?

I have been shot in the shoulder! I had to wait an extra half-hour for it, too, since the pharmacy was so slammed with vaccinations that eventually they had to call in a second tech to shorten the line, which I interpret as a good sign. Araḫ Abu at the end of the summer is the month of Gilgameš, which means the upper and lower worlds are more closely twined than usual. May any evil which would seize my body be taken in charge of Namtar and spirited over the river to the land of no return.

My poem "Fair Exchange" has been accepted by Not One of Us. It was written last night and marks my first creative work since the brutal sleep deprivation of this construction-ridden summer really got underway. It may have been prompted by this papyrus, but it is not as though I don't think under normal circumstances about drowning, ghosts, sea-rise.

I slept out of the house in order to avoid the return of municipal deafening and am reliably informed that this morning a dump truck joined in to literalize the metaphor.

P.S. My mother said I looked like the prow of a ship.