I
joyous holidays
annual beacon of joy
fleeting and migrant
II
striped turf in Philly
peppered with mistakes and hurt
tear salt saturates
III
midnight green now blue
high expectations cut down
eagles nurse deep wounds
IV
friend lost a brother
hard to accept raven’s news
he mourns like before
V
circuitous wheel
continues with birth of girl
Maryland daughter
VI
tea kettle whistles
reminds me to be grateful
rain blitzkriegs windows
VII
February late
the purple promise of spring
crocus I adore
There isn't a mission. There isn't a goal. It's just words on fake paper, sliding and tripping and flowing all over the place, because we're all full up on words in here and there is no way we can keep them inside. Like Tony says, "Nothing in here is true."
Tuesday, January 03, 2006
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2006
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January
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- loot apsev
- small happiness
- Part II Setting the Scene
- i've had butter thoughts
- all the same
- swoop down
- Knollder
- The Love Song of S. Alfred Geesfrock
- New Story: Smoke Screen
- doldrum II
- charmed
- stormless
- that space
- friction
- sorry that you dropped
- Resolution
- The Product of Inspiration
- doldrum haiku
- Strum and Strut
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