Man in a shed |
He wrote a novelsaid everything that needed to be saidHe composed a songa simple strain for the people of his pastHe drove himself mad,for the ones he'd never see againdrunken and tripping down the wr...
Posted by lippopotamus on Fri, 28 Sep 2007 05:13:00 PST |
mr. tambourine man |
Sometimes, dear friend it just comes to you,you assign yourself a task, anything, reallyit doesn't matter what just think about ityou can't get to sleep until its donebut you shouldn't sleep anywayyou...
Posted by lippopotamus on Wed, 26 Sep 2007 05:42:00 PST |
Gincy's Last Stand |
they could see every light through the canopy of the trees they lay under.they could recall every memory that led them to each other.last night, he dreamt of her head detonating but didn't have the ne...
Posted by lippopotamus on Fri, 01 Jun 2007 10:25:00 PST |
The Eroticism of Good Samaritans |
AHSAWe were raised here from the earth, filled with caution and with holes in our pockets. We had comme il faut blooms, designed for our elders, trained to be still and listen to the idle rustling. ...
Posted by lippopotamus on Tue, 22 May 2007 10:34:00 PST |
the trill of the trees |
This is a stub, nothing more and nothing less. A stub, what do you associate with that word? I stubbed my toe, my brain is a stub, a stubby little old man. This is about a stubby lit...
Posted by lippopotamus on Sat, 07 Apr 2007 09:29:00 PST |
Prelude to an overture: knowledge of the states (updated and not finished) |
I. These days they only paint potraits with corporate backing. The dogs don't fetch and rather visit saunas and tanning beds. Delicacy, fortitude, commonness. All traits people have ...
Posted by lippopotamus on Tue, 27 Mar 2007 01:57:00 PST |
et lux perpetua |
He walks up the stair to discover the footage is blurry and obscene. He knows about her touch on his thigh and the fire that he can't begin to control lest he lose his mind. Rudimentary and he...
Posted by lippopotamus on Mon, 26 Mar 2007 02:18:00 PST |
18 miles |
earth rotates every second. they teach you that when you're young. look around you and count it off. 18 miles. 18 miles. 18 miles. count it off until you're thirty driving in your humble vehicle, exha...
Posted by lippopotamus on Fri, 23 Mar 2007 01:40:00 PST |
the match game |
1.2.3.4. the moths outside on a summer night slamming their bodies into the only thing they know, the only thing that remotely causes them to feel encouragement, the source of a light. on the way hom...
Posted by lippopotamus on Sun, 18 Mar 2007 12:39:00 PST |
Characteristics of a letter in the mail |
Once again, your landscape turns blue and unwholesome, you long for the caress of white powdery snow in the face of yer hypothermia. I am directly related to you in that I am tethered to everyth...
Posted by lippopotamus on Sun, 11 Mar 2007 12:02:00 PST |
