Paying Separately |
...
Posted by on Mon, 01 Sep 2008 06:42:00 GMT |
Life Sentence |
your self yourself your self you say you can feel the power climbing up your spine while the download finishes but i say throw caution to the wind as i run headlong into the next jurisdiction where se...
Posted by on Wed, 02 Apr 2008 22:03:00 GMT |
Gavel |
We see late summer restlessness, the knotted thread connecting two fresh-faces, faces down, downtown concrete ocean. Sun still, burning tired skies rampant. We hear nothing, all things still as a butt...
Posted by on Thu, 21 Feb 2008 22:15:00 GMT |
OHare 07 |
Arriving from turning backs and into forgotten constants,I hope my new laugh won't put you off.Departingfrom foreign landswe've briefly known,strange voices stampede my cheap ears.* * *Departingfrom f...
Posted by on Fri, 14 Dec 2007 22:59:00 GMT |
Toothless |
Sweeping dust from their perch atop the pillow plateau, my eyelashes make a sound like those guerilla nicks on a well-loved record, those frail little fissures firing back at the well-fed flanks of ti...
Posted by on Sun, 03 Jun 2007 19:25:00 GMT |
Nothing Notes |
i will read this tomorrow, not remembering why i wrote it.i will scan these lines, not knowing what i meant.i will feel sorry for the people who will try to harvest meat from its dry pit.i will notice...
Posted by on Tue, 01 May 2007 22:37:00 GMT |
Academy St. Laundromat |
"This is your laundry. Please keep it clean." read much deeper than crimson since realizing what I've become.Laundry. That's a novel way to look at it."This is your laundry. Please keep it clean." My ...
Posted by on Tue, 24 Apr 2007 20:23:00 GMT |
One Mans Blog Title is Another Mans Poem -or- The Blatant Pretensions of a Former Self |
"License and Registration, Please." -or- The Futile Resistance Fires Make Efficacious Ice-Breakers -or- I So Hate Consequences Anesthetic Procedure: Commence -or- Caffeine Keeps Me Up I Smell the Fall...
Posted by on Wed, 11 Apr 2007 20:33:00 GMT |
Try Triptych |
11 I would thinkyou were just talking to yourselfif you weren't holdingmy stare.12 I would thinkyou were just talking to yourselfif you weren't holdinga megaphone.13 I would thinkyou were just talking...
Posted by on Fri, 06 Apr 2007 23:07:00 GMT |
Hesitation Wounds |
I trudge, breathless, up the hill toward the tomato patch, my rusty cart bangs my ankle, laughs. I pull weeds by hand, sweet green fumes, packed fingernails. Everything I did wrong back then is stron...
Posted by on Thu, 05 Apr 2007 22:25:00 GMT |
