ten six oh seven |
it was dark before seven pm tonight.japhy would have been sad to see this from his little glass bowl,that no sun would come for many hours.in my bowl, the sun is always never there;it teases, dances b...
Posted by anne can anne on Sat, 06 Oct 2007 08:54:00 PST |
sometimes |
sometimes when I am crying, and it hurts more than I know how to understand, I feel the Crone embrace me. she is tall and bony, with white hair. She is without race and without age, but she is old. he...
Posted by anne can anne on Fri, 08 Jun 2007 12:23:00 PST |
all of this will fade |
picture a picture in a swollen bout forgotten fading nibbles at edges and beauty blursthis will fade, all this willfade forward face like page unwrittenmy palm slides acrosswaiting to see what is alre...
Posted by anne can anne on Wed, 06 Jun 2007 06:09:00 PST |
the mixtape & the tongues |
renatto's melody line dipped bass-like and dangled across my nosea string with a boy hanging (with emphasis) *tenuously*there was a series of thoughts there too, one of them reddish brown, like rust,a...
Posted by anne can anne on Thu, 05 Apr 2007 05:52:00 PST |
slowly my senses are fading |
slowlymy senses are fadingedges blur, bleed into shadowshigh sounds and low sounds,mumbles, whispers,insects in the grassdance just beyond methe silence and shadowenclose meslowlythe distance builds, ...
Posted by anne can anne on Thu, 15 Mar 2007 10:47:00 PST |
the way i see it |
the audience is unmoving, except for eyes following the path I trace. egoless, judgment-full. their opinions matter, matter more than (don't let it) they matter more than (spin, step, spin, step) mine...
Posted by anne can anne on Mon, 26 Feb 2007 12:16:00 PST |
r.i.p. john grasso |
[john grasso was a man i went to high school with - didn't really know him, but was touched by him, something he could never have known in his life. he died unexpectedly last tuesday, the day after my...
Posted by anne can anne on Tue, 20 Feb 2007 03:56:00 PST |
thoughts on the war that will not end |
" the blood of the children flowed in the streets like the blood of children" ~ nerudaand the war plays on. Red rivers and puddles, the trickling sense of tragedy slipping between pavement cracks, fee...
Posted by anne can anne on Tue, 30 Jan 2007 11:50:00 PST |
a bookshelf in a shopping cart |
a bookshelf in a shopping cart under the freeway. wet wood trains from termites. shocked wheels bound 'cross newly paved homeless low-way, the under-way, no-way. counting odd objects, separating piles...
Posted by anne can anne on Tue, 12 Dec 2006 10:24:00 PST |
the face of evil |
last night i watched an embarassing number of Buffy the Vampire Slayer episodes. i hate television. i hate how it sucks your brain in, and feeds it artificial images, sounds, feelings. i hate that the...
Posted by anne can anne on Mon, 20 Nov 2006 02:53:00 PST |
